by Lilas Taha
Farah turned to Sameera. ‘When you have a son, Shareef is going to be Abu Mustafa?’
Mama dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief.
Sameera patted Farah’s head. ‘It won’t be soon.’ Her words fell flat. A string of cheese dangled from her lower lip. ‘Shareef isn’t ready to have children yet.’
Innocent of the workings of Sameera’s marriage, Farah tried to play with the cheese string. ‘Why not?’
Huda swatted Farah’s hand away. ‘This is not the right conversation for someone your age.’ Huda’s sharp voice added weight to the air in the room. ‘Eat your kanafeh and stay out of the adults’ affairs.’
‘What was your father’s name, Fatimah?’ Unfazed, Farah ran her tongue up her wrist, following a drop of sweet syrup. ‘I don’t think I’ve heard it before.’
‘Jamal. Jamal Ali Bakry.’ Fatimah’s pride mixed with amusement in her tone.
‘Omar will be Abu Jamal, then?’
Nadia followed the conversation from her corner. She lifted her head when Omar’s name was mentioned. ‘Could we turn on the radio, please? We missed the nine o’clock news.’
‘Right.’ Waleed put his plate down. He turned on the radio, raising the volume all the way.
Um Waleed motioned for him to bring it down a notch. ‘It’s the same news, anyway.’
Waleed complied, but stayed by the radio, one ear to the news and the other to the women.
‘May Allah bestow victory on our troops soon.’ Um Waleed raised her palms toward the ceiling. ‘When they reach Tel Aviv, I swear I will put henna on my hair and dance on the roof.’ She turned to Mama. ‘You will have to forgive me, my dear.’
‘I will stop wearing black and join you as soon as Omar makes it home.’
Waleed’s curse penetrated the women’s talk, silencing Mama. He cranked up the volume.
News of a major setback of the Egyptian army broke in. Abdul Hakim Amer, the Egyptian army chief commander, had issued orders for a tactical retreat from Sinai toward Suez Canal.
Fatimah sprang out of her seat. ‘What happened?’
As if the broadcaster had heard her question, his heavy voice, lacking the luster and passion of the previous six days, continued with the bulletin. Having destroyed the majority of Egyptian jetfighters during the first aerial strike, Israeli air forces delivered a devastating blow to tanks and artillery on the ground, inflicting heavy casualties among troops.
Staring at the radio in disbelief, Waleed put his hands on his head. ‘God have mercy. This is a disaster.’
More disturbing news followed. The same scenario happened on the Syrian front. Without aerial cover, Syrian troops faltered. The Golan Heights fell to the Israelis.
‘Why the hell is it the first time we are hearing about this?’ Waleed shouted at no one in particular.
Fatimah went to his side. ‘Is this true? Were they lying to us? Or are they lying now?’
‘Maybe the BBC has better coverage.’ Waleed’s hands shook while turning the radio dial.
A BBC reporter confirmed the alarming news, adding that Israel had taken over the West Bank and eastern Jerusalem as well.
Waleed slid to the floor, his knees unable to carry the weight of this tragic turn. Fatimah dropped down next to him. ‘This can’t be,’ she wailed. ‘The past week lies? All lies?’
Um Waleed launched into a series of damning prayers, asking for God’s wrath to descend on everyone responsible, blasting to eternal damnation the Israelis, misleading politicians, Arab radio reporters with their false propaganda, all the way to Jamal Abdul Nasser himself.
Mama fell into a state of catatonia, her eyes fixed on a point in the space between the radio and Fatimah’s head.
Nadia wrapped her arms around her mother. ‘Omar will be all right,’ she repeated over and over, then nodded at Sameera. ‘And your brother, Ahmad.’
Sameera broke down crying.
Huda, the first to recover from the shock, knelt beside Fatimah and urged her to her feet. ‘Waleed, help me take her to bed. This is not good for her.’
Huda’s commanding tone brought everyone out of their daze. In a strange way, there was something sensible in her aggravating voice. Her unflinching attitude solidified the revealed intelligence. Yes, this was happening. The three Arab armies were defeated.
Back at home, Nadia opened the door to let Shareef in, his face solemn.
‘Everyone is in total shock. People are gathering in the streets. No one knows what to do.’ He dropped on the sofa and rubbed his neck. ‘I guess I better go to the bank. Withdraw as much cash as possible.’
‘Why?’ Nadia asked.
‘We have to get out of here.’
She held on to the doorjambs with both hands. ‘I thought our armies were on the outskirts of Tel Aviv. You think the Israelis will reach Damascus instead?’
He nodded. ‘Their air fighters might try, and we don’t have the means to stop them. What we heard on the news was all propaganda to boost morale.’
‘Where would we go?’ Her voice vanished on the last word.
Mama marched into the room. ‘We are not going anywhere.’
He jumped off the sofa. ‘I’m the man of this family. I have to protect everyone and I say we should head north, away from the capital.’
Mama crossed both arms over her chest. ‘We are staying here until Omar comes back.’
‘There have been heavy casualties. Omar might never return.’
Mama staggered a couple of steps back, Shareef’s words landing like slaps across her face.
Nadia went to her side and held her in her arms. ‘You don’t know that.’
Shareef lifted his arms to his sides, then dropped them in exasperation. ‘I can’t find out if he’s alive or where he is. No one can. Sameera’s brothers tried to find out about Ahmad. Nothing. Reports are coming in that bombing Damascus is imminent. The Israelis are coming. We can’t stay here.’
‘Let them come!’ Mama shouted, tears flowing down her cheeks. ‘We lost our home once. Let them try to take this one too, and let them see what will happen. Let them try!’
Nadia stroked her mother’s shoulders. ‘Please calm down.’
At that moment, Huda walked in through the front door. ‘I heard your voices from the street. What’s going on?’
‘How’s Fatimah?’ Mama asked, her voice raspy.
‘Better. She will be fine once her nerves calm. Waleed should keep her from listening to the news. What’s the shouting about?’
Mama swung a hand in Shareef’s direction. ‘Your brother wants us to flee the city.’
Shareef rounded on Huda. ‘Tell her. She won’t believe me. They might drop bombs over our heads any minute now.’
‘That’s true.’
He turned to his mother. ‘See? We can’t wait for Omar. God only knows what happened to him.’
Huda narrowed her eyes. ‘If you want to run, then take your wife and go. I’m planning to volunteer at the hospital to help the wounded.’ She put a hand on Nadia’s shoulder. ‘I came to see if you would like to join me? They need hands. I know you can handle it.’
‘It’s the least I can do.’ Nadia kissed her mother’s hand. ‘Your blessings, Mama?’
‘Go.’ Mama headed to the door. ‘I will talk to the neighbors to gather blankets and other essentials.’
Huda threw Shareef one of her dagger-like sneers. ‘They’re calling for people to donate blood.’ She swept him with her eyes from head to toe. ‘You can spare some, I’m sure.’
20
Strong smells challenged Nadia to keep the contents of her stomach in check. Disinfectant odors mixed with the metallic scent of blood and threatened her willpower. Because she lacked medical training, she was assigned to one of the registration stations receiving blood donors at the main hospital in the city center. Stiffening her body in order to stay in control, she jotted down the names and ages of men filing in. The depressing news had aged their faces considerably.
Huda disapp
eared into the hospital to help nurses with the influx of injured soldiers coming in from the military hospital. Army doctors sent mild cases to local hospitals in order to manage the overflow.
Concentrating on her work, Nadia flipped to a new page in the register. Without lifting her head, she asked the same question for the thousandth time since she arrived.
‘Name?’
‘Marwan Barady.’
Nadia’s hand froze on the white page. She lifted her head. Omar’s friend? He had his eyes on his wallet, taking out his civil registration card. A scowl creased his forehead. Handing his card over, he met her eyes.
‘Nadia?’ Surprise added a tremor to his deep voice. He looked around. ‘Are you here by yourself?’
Taken aback by his condescending question, Nadia wrote down his specifications in the register. ‘Huda is inside the hospital with the nurses.’ She gave him a defiant stare. ‘I’m old enough to do my share.’
Marwan shifted his weight, embarrassed or impatient. She couldn’t tell.
‘Right.’ He held her gaze. ‘I wondered if Shareef was also here. I plan to go over to the military hospital once I am done to ask about . . .’ He swallowed the rest of his sentence.
Nadia arched her eyebrows.
‘To see if they needed help there,’ he continued. ‘I could take Shareef with me.’
‘It’s best not to wait for Shareef. I have no idea if he’ll show up.’ She handed him back his card. ‘Do you have relatives in the army?’
‘Three cousins.’ Marwan nodded, twisting his mouth sideways.
What did he mean by that expression? If only she had more experience reading men. ‘I pray for their safe return.’
‘Thank you.’ He slipped his card in his wallet. ‘I tried to enlist, but they wouldn’t take me.’
Embarrassment. That was what she couldn’t read on his face. He was ashamed for being young and healthy and not fighting alongside his cousins.
‘I know. You’re like Shareef, an only son.’ Nadia pointed to a curtain behind her. ‘You are needed here.’
Marwan placed his palms flat on the table, leaning forward. ‘Everything all right at home, Nadia?’
His face too close to hers, her cheeks flushed and she nodded hurriedly.
‘Your mother well? Anything I can do?’ His tone sounded urgent and sincere. ‘Need anything?’
Something warm in his dark eyes made her reach out and touch the back of his hand. ‘When you ask about your cousins, will you try to find out about Omar too?’
Marwan straightened, pulling his hand back. He glanced at the group of men nearby. Raising his voice, he addressed the men, ‘I will ask about your relative at the military hospital for you.’ He returned his eyes to hers. ‘Please telephone my sister at home should your family need anything. You have our number?’
Nadia looked past him toward the crowd. The men, engrossed in war discussions, didn’t seem to notice her interaction with him. ‘I believe Huda does.’
Marwan rolled up his sleeve, gave her a hint of a smile, and disappeared behind the curtain.
That night, Nadia crawled into bed after she had bathed and sprayed her pillow with perfume. She needed to get the hospital smell out of her nose. She and Huda had the room to themselves. Mama had taken the little girls to her bedroom, giving them peace and quiet after the long, emotionally draining day.
Closing her eyes, Nadia thought of Marwan. His enigmatic dark eyes. His rough tanned hand. His pride. His concern. She had waited for him to return with news of Omar, but the day had ended without seeing him again. Shareef had shown up in the afternoon, giving blood and barely acknowledging what she told him about Marwan’s efforts to find Omar.
Hugging her pillow tight, she thought of Huda sleeping in her bed at the farthest side of the room. On their way home, Huda had grown silent, a distant and strange expression on her face. Accustomed to seeing blood, it couldn’t have been the shock of tending to injured soldiers. Something else had driven her deep inside herself, making her appear vulnerable. A first, as long as Nadia could remember. She didn’t know how to approach Huda, comfort her.
Nadia flipped onto her back. She looked toward the window. On nights like these, when sleep eluded her, she would stare at the moon and let her imagination take her to faraway places. But tonight, the windowpanes were painted dark blue. Shareef had followed instructions broadcast on the radio for safeguarding homes from possible aerial strikes. But he had done a poor job, missing the corners, allowing the moonlight to filter through. She squinted to peek at the moon from one of the missed corners. The waning crescent was fading, despondent and sad. Everything around her was depressing, everyone dispirited and dejected. Even the moon had lost hope.
She concentrated on a darker shadow near the light fixture dangling from the ceiling. When Father passed away, Mama had told her younger sisters he watched over them from heaven. Was he watching over Omar too? Would he keep him safe? Bring him home?
Muffled hiccups drifted from the other side of the room. Nadia lifted her head. Sobs were coming from Huda’s corner. Leaving her bed, Nadia walked barefoot to stand over Huda.
‘Are you all right?’
Huda lay on her side, facing the wall. She shook her head and tugged her blanket tighter around her shoulders.
‘Are you cold?’ Nadia felt a chill travel down her spine, not related to the weather. Huda’s crying became louder, clearer. Nadia lifted the edge of the blanket and slipped under it. She wrapped her arms around her sister. ‘I’m cold too.’
In the early hours of the morning, a loud boom propelled Nadia and Huda out of bed. Nadia clung to Huda in the brief deafening silence that followed. Every muscle in Nadia’s body froze, including her lungs.
Slapping her across the face, Huda shouted, ‘Breathe!’
Sirens pierced the unnatural stillness. They ran out and joined the others in the hallway. Shareef held Sameera in his arms. Mama kept the little ones by her side.
‘What was it?’ Mama hugged the girls closer. ‘Where did it strike?’
‘I think the Abu Rummaneh area,’ Shareef said. ‘Possibly targeting the army headquarters.’
Mama sat on the floor, pulling the girls with her. ‘Don’t be afraid. Don’t be afraid.’
Banging on the door called for Shareef to leave the safety of the hallway. He returned a couple of seconds later. ‘The neighbor, Mr Rafid. Checking if we were fine.’ He plopped down next to his wife.
‘What are you doing?’ Huda barked.
‘What?’ Shareef stared at her with his mouth open.
‘Get up!’ She shoved his shoulder. ‘Go help Mr Rafid check on everyone. You’re the only men in the building.’
Sameera held on to Shareef’s arm. ‘We need him here.’
Mama rested her head back on the wall and closed her eyes. ‘Go, son. Let us pray no one is hurt from shattered windows or anything like that.’
Shareef headed out after getting dressed, his wife begging him all the while not to go.
The phone rang. Huda answered it. Dragging Nadia by the arm, she headed to the bedroom. ‘That was Um Waleed. Get dressed. Waleed is on his way to walk us back to his place. Fatimah is bleeding.’
Nadia ran to the bathroom with a bucket of soiled linen for the third time.
‘How’s Fatimah doing?’ Waleed followed her, right on her heels. ‘What’s happening?’
‘I don’t know.’ She removed the soiled cloth rags into a bag, then dumped the contents of the bucket in the toilet. Red water spilled on her legs and the front of her dress. Frantic, she splashed clean water from the sink.
Waleed grabbed her by the elbows. ‘Is this my baby’s blood?’
‘I don’t know.’ Tears and sweat dampened her face.
‘Is my baby dead?’ His eyes bore into hers, cold and frightening.
‘I don’t know,’ she repeated, louder this time.
Waleed shook her. ‘Tell me something, damn it.’
‘I don’t know anything!�
� she yelled. ‘All I see is blood, and they are too busy to tell me anything.’ She shoved him aside. ‘I have to get back.’
Another loud explosion penetrated the air, knocking Nadia to the floor and throwing Waleed against the wall. He helped her to her feet and ran to the bedroom.
Um Waleed hurried to block him from coming closer to the bed. ‘Huda has the bleeding under control. We have to take Fatimah to the hospital.’ Um Waleed held his arms. ‘There’s nothing more Huda can do.’
‘Get her ready.’ Panic laced Waleed’s voice. ‘I will get a taxi.’
‘You’re not going to find a taxi in this chaos,’ Huda said over her shoulder. She sat at the edge of the bed, facing Fatimah and keeping her back to Waleed. ‘And no ambulance will get here in time. They’re heading for the bombed sites.’
Nadia sloshed forward, the hem of her dress dripping water. ‘Marwan Barady has a car. I’m sure he will help.’
‘Yes, call him,’ Huda urged. ‘His number is in the little brown book in my purse. Waleed, get more blankets. Um Waleed, get me a clean gown.’
21
Marwan drove as fast he could, maneuvering his way through streets full of disarray and confusion. Cars hurried in the direction of the bombed areas, columns of smoke making the mark. People bustled, calling out for children to return home.
Waleed ran toward the main doors of the hospital with Fatimah in his arms, his mother and Huda trying to match his steps.
Marwan touched Nadia’s elbow. ‘She’ll be fine.’
‘I should go in with them.’ But Nadia didn’t move her feet. Twisting her body sideways, she bent at the waist and retched by the back tire. After the convulsions subsided, she straightened, ran a hand over her hair. Most of her ponytail escaped the blue ribbon holding it.
‘Huda was wrong,’ she heaved. ‘I can’t handle it. Not the smell of blood. Not the sight of it.’
‘I’ll take you home.’ Marwan guided her into the passenger seat, his hands hovering over her shoulders, not making contact. ‘Your mother is probably worried sick.’
As soon as the car took off, an airplane crossed the sky in front of their eyes. Nadia doubled over, clasped her hands over the back of her head. ‘More bombs,’ she shrieked.