UN verbing

Hala wished she could undream that memory and unlive those moments. She wished Salem uncontrolled her waking and sleep. She wished he unfound her diary, ungot mad at her, unaccused her of being a selfish wife. She wished she unwoke up to a body as heavy as a sack of sand, to a tight stomach and clenched muscles. She wished that sooty stain in the kitchen sink unplayed on her nerves all the time and that smell of burning uninvaded her lungs when she unexpected.

Every time she came into the kitchen, the stain bothered her. She untried to clean it; she unused Clorox, unscrubbed it with steel wool and unadded all sorts of detergents that unscratched her fingers. She unwatched the flames eating up the pages, line by line, word by word. It unhurt to sit at her desk later and untry to remember all the events in their engagement that she registered in the diary and unentitled it “Happiest moments of my life”.

What if Salem unrushed into the kitchen unwaving with her diary in his hand as she just finished the dishes? What if he unapproached her until their bodies almost untouched and she could unfeel his hot angry breath on her face and neck? What if he untore the pages and unthrew them in the sink as she unleaned to it and unstretched her neck back to see what he was doing? What if she unstayed in the kitchen after he left and uncontinued to take in the fumes of the burning plastic  cover? What if she unopened the window or unturned on the water to stop the burning and the smell?

 She carefully pulled herself out of bed, tiptoed to the kitchen to remove the sooty black stain from the corner of the sink before making Salem’s breakfast.

Smell Memories

Ever since that time when I was five I could never start reading a book without first smelling it. Even before I sat on the floor and untied the soft shiny ribbon I knew it was a book. It was one of those children’s scented books and I automatically sniffed at every page as I climbed Uncle Mahmud’s lap and started to read: This is Mary’s garden. The smell of wet soil twirled into my nose, fresh and grainy like rough sugar sprinkled on a cake. I reluctantly turned the page; I wanted the smell to go for ever but was welcomed with a sweeter odor, that unidentifiable smell of the little seed Mary held in the palm of her hand, strong as stone, yet soft as a grain of cooked rice ; the smell resembled nothing I knew back then.  On the next page a dwarf stalk of green popped out of the soil whose subtle smell jogged as a baby’s odor. The blooming plant on the next page fascinated me with yet another smell, fresh as a drop of dew, seducing as a lollypop, inviting as mother’s hug. The last page popped with a fully grown pink rose whose aroma danced around me, spreading long curly tails of scent that totally charmed me.

I am becoming

I feel bloated; I am becoming fat and grey…I look down at my heavy feet and find no toes. Instead,  I see four huge poles with thick curvy hard skin folds and realize I am becoming an elephant, huge and tall. My tummy is fat and I feel hungry and thirsty. I try to find something to eat; I look around and spot a grassy area with lush trees and the promise of a river or a stream and I heavily move towards it.  I am followed by four younger elephants who lovingly cluster around me. They shout and play as we go and their movements arises a huge cloud of dust.  The youngest Dumbo tips over a stone as it follows its brothers and sisters and tumbles and falls down. I raise my voice to yell at the other elephants to take care of the younger elephant and I come up with a big deafening sound that is not my voice.  I raise my hands to press my ears and I realize all I have is a long, round elastic trunk that serves as a nose too. My ears respond to the sudden urge to be covered. Miraculously, they grow bigger and wider; they feel like huge rubber plates dangling around my head and the noise does not bother me anymore.  The young elephants playfully move around me; they race to the stream; the sounds of their stamping feet and their happy cries make me happy.  We reach our destination and they start to munch on tall green grass. I precede to the stream to drink and I can see my huge head and tender eyes with tall eyelashes.  I throw my trunk into the water and drink till I am full. I fill it with water and explore the possibility of spraying water all around. Soon my kids join and we are all wet and happy. I love my new self and adore my lovely kids;  I wake up to find the Bollywood movie  still playing and my four kids laughing their hearts out as  the movie  we were watching comes to an end, just like my dream.

My Treasure

My Treasure

I recently discovered a treasure I had had for 17 years without even noticing it was there by me all the time. It was near me all the time, especially through bad times. It never left my side and I was too obscured to recognize it until I got one of the worst times of my life. For 17 years my treasure bloomed; it opened up little by little, slowly but steadily and now I enjoy it in its fullest glory. On my bleakest days, when I am too sick to move and too proud to ask for help, my treasure lays itself wide open in front of me, offering fountains of pure love and sincere help. He makes himself at my service whole heartedly and gracefully and lovingly and the manner he does it makes me feel stronger despite my fragility, proud to have someone like him despite my weakness, happy even in my misery.

Ali is my treasure, my pride and joy, my man and son and friend.  Thank you God for my treasure: the sweetest, kindest and most graceful human being I have ever had in my life. May Allah keep him safe, sound, happy and loving forever.

Another Magical Day: Independence day (THIRD OF JULY 2013)

This is a magical day to all Egyptians. Finally we got our 
country back... We have been kidnapped..Our country was stolen 
and pushed into the dark
 The Americans have a fourth of July and we, Egyptians, have the third of July as our independence day !i

We were transferred by Ikhwan into the dark ages…  the times of ignorance and evil and vulgarity…

And our ‘Tamarod’  youth  freed us again;  they brought us back to the light of hope and freedom. They gave us back our country and our identity that was kept intact despite all Ikhwan’s attempts to transform it.

“Tamarod” was the magical word that did the trick…

The energy and enthusiasm and hope our youth put into every tamarod document were contagious. People signed even without believing that it can work. Well, it did work like magic, white and pure magic.

Mabrouk to all Egyptians and to all those who love Egypt, the real one!

Mothering: Excerpt from Safe or Sound

I had the best evening with Kooky and Semsem, after Salem and Maha left. I resisted them so much; they wanted me to watch a Disney movie with them and I had piles of plates in the sink and wanted to finish tomorrow's lunch because my schedule is really tight with six hours of teaching three different classes and I still had to prepare some materials.  I said OK, when you decide what movie to watch, come and tell me and I will watch as much as I can when I clean up the kitchen. But then Kareem said,' Mama, do you know what I really want to be right now?  I want to be your mother and you my son.'  When I asked why, he said "because then I will choose to sit and watch the movie with you!" I was amazed at the logic of my sweet five year old son, and his way with words. It was simple as that. And I just could not resist it.

I went to the kitchen, turned the stove off and closed the door so that I will not see how badly the kitchen needed cleaning. TO HELL WITH THE KITCHEN!  I sat on the big sofa between the twins and we played The Lion King, again , maybe for the fiftieth times, but it felt different this one time.  We got a blanket because it was cold; we snuggled, laughed, tickled, and hugged. We cried when Mufasa died and sang along with Simba and Nala and danced with "I just can't wait to be king" and roared like a lion till we almost lost our voices.

 I wish I can do this more often . l wish I have time to engage with the twins in fun activities and stop being a caterer for food, a driver or a teacher. I realized after that night how much I needed them and how much I wanted to be a real mother. Mothering is not something you do by instinct; you really need to learn and my best teachers so far are my lovely twins. 

Morning Tension (excerpt from Safe or Sound?)

Salem stood leaning lazily on the kitchen door watching Hala;  she was busy stirring something in a big pot then she added vegetables inside it and covered it. She had already dressed for work and she had rolled the long sleeves of her blouse up.

What are you doing in the kitchen; it is only five a.m.  the smell woke me up, he finally announced his presence.

Oops, sorry.  We’re having a dish party for the new comers in the department and I am making koushary and lentil soup; I did not fry the onions yet to avoid the smell; you smelled the cakes maybe?

How nice, cooking at dawn for your Indian, Bengali, Pakistani and lovely Saudi colleagues and complaining every day about cooking for you own kids!

Hala wanted to remain calm; she will wake the kids up in half an hour and Salma will give her a hard time before she leaves for school;   then she will six hours of teaching.  She started to scoop the rice and lentils out of the tefal pot with a big spoon and place it in the oval stainless steel serving dish, then she placed the lid on the pot again and opened the oven and placed it inside to keep it warm for lunch. She moved mechanically like a robot and the tense muscles in her shoulders and back started to ache.

I will serve his breakfast first; I don’t want the kids to feel any tension; it is enough what Salma feels about school and abayas and all. She behaves like someone taken to jail to serve a life sentence, every morning.  

She removed the dishes of boiled egg halves and the chick peas from the table in the center of the kitchen to the other side. She will use these later for decorating kousahary. She started serving cheeses and cold cuts right from the fridge. Salem followed her movement from the fridge to the cook to heat something in a pan and sat at the table. "Do you expect me to eat that cold stuff?"

I am preparing foul and scrambled eggs.

Do we have any konafa? I want a piece with tea.

I ran out of Konafa…let me write it on the list or I will forget; she said as she moved to write something on a long piece of paper she placed under a magnet on the freezer door.. but I have some cakes for your tea, I have just baked it.

"An ideal wife", he said with a tone of ridicule; see I don't use the words you hate anymore…. I said" ideal", not "good". Satisfied?

Thank you! She still tried to act naturally, she had prayed God to help her remain calm for Salma's sake and now it is Salem playing on her nerves and looking for a morning scene. She hoped that he will eat and go back to sleep again before he pumps into Salma, witnesses her ugly morning rituals and starts to fight with her.   She had never hated school back in Egypt; even in kindergarten.  Poor Salma, she misses being with Kareem in the same class, and she misses her old friends and  the club and swimming under the sun rays every Friday morning and tennis practice twice a week.  Even though they go to an international school, they still have to follow Saudi school regulations, separating boys and girls and forcing girls to wear black abayas on top of the uniform.