Amina March 17, 2007
Posted by jewaira in Fiction, Life, Relationships, Stories, Women.41 comments
Ali sipped his saffron infused tea from the small crystal istikana and lay back on the sofa as he watched TV. Amina was on the phone with Um Waleed who was talking about her youngest daughter’s upcoming wedding.
After the usual pleasantries, and appropriately ending the phone call in her most elegant tone of voice, Amina turned to Ali and said:
“It’s Najla’s wedding party on Thursday.”
“She’s the youngest one isn’t she?”
“Yes”
“So the middle one Asmaa is still not married….and she is the only one who is sifoor without hijab.”
“So?”
“Well, there is a demand for the muhajjabah girl now more than the sifoor. I am around men all the time; believe me, I know these things.”
“But that’s silly!” said Amina. “Asmaa is a lovely girl with or without the hijab. I don’t think people should be that judgmental. It doesn’t mean that she is better person just because she is muhajjabah. She is very modest in the way she dresses and has such a lovely personality. Any man would be lucky to have her as a wife.”
“You and I know that,” insisted Ali, “but Kuwaitis just prefer muhajjabahs now as marriage material.”
Amina curled up on the facing sofa and looked at the large flat television screen where Oprah was interviewing child geniuses. She switched the channel and there was a female engineer talking about how weapon technology of the future would change most dramatically in the next 20 years. She thought about Asmaa: college graduate with a new job, waiting for the right man to come along and start a family, like all her brothers and sisters.
Amina suddenly felt constricted by it all. She jumped up, stretched, and did perfect cartwheels out the door.
Death Wish March 17, 2007
Posted by jewaira in Life, Men, Relationships, Stories.11 comments
Hani was always the last one to leave the diwania. Every time Musaed got up to go home, he would look at Hani and say: “You’re so lucky! No one to nag you or ask you where you’re going and when you’re coming home! Not like us!” he would complain bitterly.
Hani had lost his wife to cancer six months ago and was always the first to arrive at diwania and the last to leave. He just couldn’t bear going back home but didn’t speak openly about his feelings. He just smiled along with the guys when they teased him about his ‘freedom’ and mourned his wife in silence.
For two months, Musaed said the same thing to Hani every time he saw him: “You’re so lucky ….you’re free!”
Until one day, two months later give or take a few days; Musaed lost his wife in a horrific car accident.
Musaed was shattered. He cried every time he came to the diwaniya. He cried not knowing what to say to his young children every time they asked about their mother. “What can I say to them?” he said with bitter pain.
It is too late now to say: Be careful what you wish for, even in jest.
