Made to bring us together.
We know how to grieve together. We forgot how to play.
Our culture reaches most of us as headlines and homework. A news alert. A history lesson. A language class you dropped in grade six. Somewhere along the way, being from here turned into a subject you were failing.
So you can name the villages. You can list what was taken. But you cannot remember the last time your heritage put you in a room with people you love, laughing so hard somebody had to leave the table. That part got lost. It was the best part.
We make tabletop games rooted in Arab and Middle Eastern culture. Not lessons. Games. The kind you play badly and loudly, with your cousins, while somebody gets accused of cheating.
Our first is the Yafa shoreline in a thousand puzzle pieces. Orange trees, baskets, the sea. It takes up a whole table and about three nights, and it goes faster with four people and worse with opinions.
You will learn something. That is not the point. The point is the table.
We come from places that have endured so much. Those places are also home to laughter and joy. We are not here to remind you of the first thing. We are here to hand you the second.
There is always room for another player.
Yalla, let's play.