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Because my current sense is transparent
No one can see me, no one tells me
Nobody feels that I am there »
(Actor Maan Abdel Haq, from the series “Takht Sharqi”)
I was there, witness, but I didn’t say anything and they did. My brother Hussam, the spoiled son, the vows were vows for his coming into this world, and the sheep were sacrificed as a celebration. He did not complete his education and was satisfied with high school. He was very relaxed between private interests and his owners until my father managed to introduce him to the military by kissing his hands and paying bribes. My father, who spent two years of his 60 years in his land until his face and hands were darker than the rest of his body. If you saw him with a naked torso, you would be surprised and you would not have imagined that that dark color was once such a bright white. It was not easy for him to intercede with so-and-so and Allan among the villagers, who is dear to himself, who never needed anyone, but succumbed to my mother’s repeated whining and constant wailing. Because she believes that mothers who are capable of always striving to correct the deformation of their children and facilitate the affairs of their lives, she wanted to give her son what could ensure a dignified life. My mother, tough and handling all the affairs of the house and family, did not do the same with my silly older brother Hassan. He told us that as a young man he had a fever, which made it impossible for him to speak. We grew up and got used to what he was like, as if it were a predestination that nothing could be done about. We also got used to his bad temper and yelling from time to time in an attempt to express discontent, resentment, or a position that we couldn’t understand or didn’t want to.
We were all there one day in Ramadan, eating sweets after a delicious breakfast. In a tent in front of our door, in the shade of a pergola whose clusters were red, they became a destination for wasps and cyclamen, when our fiftieth neighbor Abu Hassan, the owner of the chicken farm, whose smell is spreading throughout our neighborhood. The story of his daughter Sarah spread through all languages until the whole town “smelled”. Her family found out a week ago that she was pregnant, they went crazy and beat and insulted her until she had a miscarriage and was hospitalized after neighbors intervened to save her. When the father calmed down a bit, he wanted to know the identity of the perpetrator so that he could recover from him and force him to take responsibility towards his daughter, then he learned from Sarah that the perpetrator was my brother Hussam, and he came that night to heal his! love! Hussam didn’t move like he was ready for such a moment or this as it seemed to me, as I know very well that he was in a relationship with Sarah. I learned about his relationship with many, through the names that appear on the screen of his phone, the messages that flash and can be read without accessing the applications, and the long conversations that he used to hear murmured on quiet nights. Hussam sat blowing smoke from his hookah, as if the conversation didn’t bother him, but he didn’t take his eyes off the burning embers for a second. The irony of the situation! In those minutes, my brother Hassan was not the only fool, we were all like that, my father, my mother, Hassan and even me, except Hussam. He only waited for Abu Hassan until he finished shouting to say a word, after which he did not need to add a letter. He just said his friend’s name, Salim, coldly speaking his friend’s name as a suspect. By doing that, Hussam was able to make everyone believe that Sarah was “one on one”, and that was enough to silence our neighbor Abu Hassan and break his eye. I don’t know how she felt at the time, but it became clear that after this rudeness, she wanted nothing more than to pick up the subject, so she wouldn’t have to seek her daughter’s honor if she got lost with Hussam or Salim!
Everyone woke up from their silence after that magic phrase. My father suddenly got up, while he had not heard a voice before her, to say in a low voice and in a tone mixed with fear and denial, and his words were intermittent but decisive: “Oh my peace, it takes a long time for your mind. . . May God forgive her. His daughter Jay is giving her love to my son. “In fact, my father knew his upbringing well, as he knew perfectly well that Hussam will never and will never find it difficult to get out of any dilemma, as he is” Harbouq “and” a sweet tongue. “He always managed to win the friendship of the people around him. It is true that he could not win their trust, so they are seen to shake off quickly from those around him, but he was nonetheless going in and out of labyrinths as if nothing happened. It would have happened. Before that, I saw my father as a man who only spoke the truth, and boasted that he had never supported a party or applauded a leader. I saw it differently, when Abu Hassan came out with his head gacha. My father continued to eat as if nothing had happened. I know he was getting old, absorbing an anger that he couldn’t and holding a tear that seemed clear in his black eyes. But what I didn’t understand was that he did not confront Hussam, he did not confront him! asked if he was the perpetrator! adored with the matter or why did Abu Hassan accuse him of such an accusation? No, don’t trust him!
The day before that situation, I went into Hussam’s room. I took advantage of his presence at work and my mother’s concern for preparing breakfast, knowing that I would find something to demonstrate my brother’s insolence. After the news spread to the village and Hussam started telling my mother that Salim was the perpetrator and not him. I opened his closet and took out a shoe box that I know he has in his little things and in his special papers. I threw things on the bed and found a red box, I know it well, as it was once a gift to me from Selim. It had a gold chain inside it that had stayed around my neck from the time he gave it to me until the day Abu Hassan arrived at our house. It seems that Hussam led her to put small objects inside, for fear that they would get lost. But I found strange things inside, a lock of blond hair and a pigeon or other bird feather, I don’t know what it is, and part of your “cost” of a gold watch and other components! My brother seems to be better at keeping his things than keeping those around him. I don’t know if he had previously spread the things of one of them, as he did with Sara! I finally found my 8GB memory card. I took it after putting everything back in, grabbed my phone and inserted the card into it. I wanted nothing more than a photo or a conversation, but my brother was generous to me that day. Instead of the image, I found images and conversations that were taken as screenshots. The excitement seeped in and I waited for my first opportunity to insert photos into my mother’s phone, and I did.
I saw her sob, holding her phone, which she couldn’t use until today. I saw the surprise and fear in her eyes, I saw her put a hand on her back as if the pain hit her suddenly, she tried to sit up with difficulty and then she “choked” on her phone. I waited for my brother to return from his service. When he returned, my mother hugged him as usual and kissed him with those kisses on the cheek that could be heard from a few meters away. He aroused my suspicion with that sympathy! I wanted to know the truth so that she could do something! Maybe she reprimanded or embarrassed him! But it aroused suspicions in me and made me believe that she had seen nothing and that this shock of hers was not due to the photos she had posted on her phone. I waited until he came out of the kitchen and grabbed his phone to be surprised that he deleted all the photos and conversations.
Even my mom betrayed me! I have nothing left but Hassan, as he understands everything that goes on around him. And if he doesn’t speak, let him get up! Let him scream like always. When I saw Abu Hassan come out of our house, I crawled behind Hassan and followed him as he always sits on the roof of our house. Since he was little he liked to raise pigeons, he built them a house that became a home for him also because of the large amount of time he spent there. When I saw him sitting on an old chair in one of the corners of the roof, I approached him and said nervously and sadly: “Your astonishment comes later, what are your family and your fear doing in Sarah?” I wish I hadn’t said anything. I wish I had remained silent, Hassan began to scream incomprehensible growls that I heard all my heart. But I was not afraid, I yelled at him in a dark voice looking for who would win: “You must do something.” What was it but that he pulled out the scarf that I was negligently putting on my head, I didn’t understand why he did that? He looked into my eyes for a long time, as if searching for something in them or wanting to pronounce what he could, then he looked at my neck and tugged on the chain he was wearing, the one Selim had given me. The chain broke and fell to the ground, I quickly reached down, grabbed it and ran down.
I found them running up the stairs to find out what was really going on. I walked past them, reviewed their questions, and didn’t stop for a while. Even I did not defend Sarah’s honor or rebel against my brother’s humiliation, all I wanted was not to be accused of Salim, because I wanted him for love and I wanted him as a husband, and he just wanted me to remember a good one! Silly girl!
* Lebanon – From the collection of stories “Da Vinci cannot write” (Creative Complex House Edition, 2020)
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