By
Keifha Nasrallah
The year was 1969 in Kuwait City. It was the last hours of the night and the room was slightly dark. It was close to dawn. A little girl almost in her third year was sitting with her legs against her chest with her hands embracing her legs. Terror showed on her face with some tears that had dried on her cheeks. The birds started chirping with the first stream of light. This was preceded by the tossing of a lady in her bed who seemed to be asking the birds to be silent so she could start tossing, turning and yelling in order to wake up her husband
“Get up, man. Get up Abu Nahla! You're going to miss the bus to the refinery.”
“OK. OK, I’ll get up!” He rose from his bed with lazy movements. He headed to the bathroom to prepare for breakfast.
The woman’s voice rose louder than before. “What a morning! Oh, Allah! Bad luck has been haunting me ever since I was born. A maid for life! Hey, you! Can’t you prepare our own damn breakfast!”
In a rough, low voice he mumbled, “May Allah take your voice.”
She goes on, “…On your own, even once?”
“Shut up, woman! Let the day fast-- without your daily rituals. Don’t provoke me to take drastic measures
.”
The little girl had gotten out of her bed and froze at her bedroom door. She had started to cry again, maybe due to her parents constant shouting or maybe due to the wet spot that she had made during the night that was on the bottom of her nightgown.
Amman, Jordan-- 1986 in One of the
Grand Hotels of the City
The music was loud. The hall was crowded. The bride looked lovely. She was young beside her groom. He was a middle-aged man. Happiness showed on Abu Nahla’s face. White hair began to show in the head of her that had once been black. His wife’s hair was graying as well. They were standing beside Nahla on her wedding day.
Later On…
Nahla was in her last week of pregnancy. She was obviously disturbed; it showed on her face as she was preparing lunch for her son, who was a little over a year old. He was getting into everything that his hands could reach. This bothered Nahla, so she started screaming at him while preparing the meal.
“Shut up, son! Sit down! That’s enough! Omar, put the basket down.” She put down the things that were in her hands. She headed towards him and began to strike him with anger. “Put it down! I said to put it down, so do it! Does bad luck have to haunt me all of my life? I’m nothing but a maid.”
At lunch, Omar was eating like a horse. Nahla started speaking to her husband, “Listen, Alaa’. I’m not a servant whom your father bought for you. Your son puts me through agony day and night. Then, you come from your work and do nothing but eat and sleep. I mean…”
Her husband interrupted her, “Listen! I’m exhausted. I’ve been working since the early morning.”
She interrupted, “How about me? I’ve been working since the morning, too. And your son…”
“Your son? Your son?! What can I do to please you?”
“Teach him. Raise him. When I was his age, I didn’t dare to look up at my mother. Whenever I heard my father’s voice, I would wet my pants. Look at him! He doesn’t care. He’s eating as if nothing is the matter!”
The husband grabbed the child and pulled him to him. “Fine. I’m going to teach him a lesson!” He started to slap him viciously. “Take this, and this! It’ll teach you a good lesson.”
The mother didn’t dare stop him. After he had exploded all of the sudden she seemed to regret her request, for she had provoked him and he had taken out his frustration on the child.
“This is not how you raise a child, Mister!”
“How, then? Show me.”
He knocked the food off the table and kicked the mother on the way to his bedroom. She was at a distance from her child, who was screaming in pain without his mother doing so much as to wipe away his tears.
In the evening, she was watching TV while he was reading the newspaper. The child was messing around with the box of tissues. When her husband took notice of this he screamed at her. “You’d better make him still and shut him up or else I’ll come and make your life and his miserable, and I’ll use up the shoes in the home on his and your body.”
She puffed with frustration, “There is no need to follow the damn show! Let me silence you, you son of a bitch!” She took him and placed him in the bathtub and started to beat him. “When will you learn to behave? I’m sick and tired of you. I’m going to teach you a good lesson instead of the dog who brought you into this miserable world! I’ll show you!” She did not stop beating him until she was exhausted.
After she had given birth to her child, who was a baby girl, she returned from the hospital. In the evening, the baby began to cry. She woke up her father, who got up like a maniac. He carried her and put her in another room and then went back to his bed. The wife had awakened after the commotion had taken place. She did not say a word to her husband. Instead, she looked at him belittlingly. Then she headed to the room where he had placed the child. After she had put the baby back to sleep, she carried her back to the bedroom.
In the morning, the mother rose and was setting her hair at the same time that Omar was standing at the door without his mother taking any notice of him. He looked at the baby who had begun to cry. Her mother did not respond to her tears. She headed to the kitchen to prepare some milk for her while Omar stayed behind with the infant. The father began to scream, “Shut her up, woman! I want to get a few more minutes of sleep!”
In order not to disturb his father and mother, Omar carried his sister and took her to the bathroom. “I’ll shut up the baby. Naughty baby! I’ll make her quiet.” He placed her in the bathtub and grabbed a stick. “Shut up, baby!” He started beating her on the head with the stick. She screamed for some seconds. “Bad baby! Bad baby!”
Nahla was surprised by the sudden silence that was in the house. She shrugged her shoulders and said, “That’s good. He should take care of her, even if it is only one time. So, what if he had to wake up? He’s her father. After all, he should carry her.”
She went back to the bedroom to find her husband lighting a cigarette. She asked him with surprise, “Where’s the girl?”
“Isn’t she with you? I thought…” He saw his son come into the room with small spots of blood on his shirt. “Omar, what’s that?”
With complete innocence, he answered, “I shut up the baby. The baby spat some tomato on me, and then she shut up.”
They hurried to where he pointed to and found the baby in the bathtub. Her features were distorted and the blood was all over the place. The father was in a horrible state of panic. The mother started to wail. Suddenly after a couple of seconds, she fell unconscious.
The boy uttered, “The baby. Baby is naughty. He spit tomato. He’s asleep? Baby, quiet?”
Translator: Asmaa Kurdieh
Editor: Lena Annette Winfrey
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