Jasmine : A love greeting to the youthful : Nasrene by Nazik Al MALAIKA
This story was first published in 1958, in the Arabic (Lebanese) literary Magazine Aiadaab. It was reprinted in AL Malaika's selection of short stories: The sun Beyond the Mountain Top.

When I left Iraq to study in the states five years ago, we had in our house a new born baby sister. Ayad, who was twelve years old at the time, suggested that we call her Jasmine which was the name of a flower tree in our garden, and who other than Aiad would plant any thing in our house? The garden was his temple. My father would have preferred to name the girl Suaad, so that our names would be in order: Wdad, Ayad, And Suad, this way satisfying the crave for rhyme which was popular among some Iraqi families. But my mother liked Iaad's idea, and I agreed with her decision. Seeing the innocent boy's excitement and his happiness was enough to make us respect his wish.

There was in my little sister something which appeals to the heart and I would have preferred to wait for a month to get to know her before leaving for a long time. But the date for my journeying was preset and thus I found myself with the coming of the dawn weaving my hands to my father and Aiad as they came to tell me good-bye at the airport. Jasmine was then only two weeks old.

The influence of living away from home is immense. At first, the foreigner clings to all she brought along with her from the old lands which opened its arms and gave her away to the distance. she clings to little things such as the number of the trees in the garden where she used to play, the taste of tea made in her house and which nothing else resembles, and the small face of Jasmine which filled the heart for a few days before distance muted the sound of her crying. She clings to all of these things swearing never to let go, never allowing forgetfulness to steal them from her. But the new life holds on to her offering new issues, situations and faces and soon she forgets even that she is forgetting. And in the beginning of the second year she senses suddenly how far she became from all what she loved, and the big truth surprises her: She has changed.

Four years. How could I not forget Jasmine? Ayad would mention her occasionally among other important news items: The bark of the oak tree is twisted, the harvest was weak this year, and Jasmine has grown and is now attached to our cat, etc...

I used to send her toys occasionally and had her picture on my desk. But these sparks of attachments did not connect us. All I had was the image of a sister, and I did not feel the yearning which communication and closeness creates. That did not bother me. I knew I was coming back to Iraq. One week of closeness will make us like each other as two sisters should. What is the reason for worrying and hurrying matters?

Then I came back in the fall.

In the happiness of the meeting, I forgot all about Jasmine. After the first minutes, Ayad came to me carrying a beautiful little girl with long black hair, wearing a blue Italian Pantaloon. Ayad put her in my arms saying: "I see you have forgotten Jasmine. Don't you ever inquire about her?"

Jasmine! From that first moment my little sister became the most important of my occupations.

It seemed to me that my absence in the States locked within me the love and yearning which exploded when I came back. As for Jasmine, she refused from the start my friendship: As soon as I held her and tried to kiss her, she pushed me away with both of her hands saying: "Go away. I do not want you." My mother had to take her away from me. She tried to assure her by telling her that I am her older sister Widad of whom she has heard often. And when my mother felt my disappointment she told me: "Do not worry. She doesn't know you yet. Give her time to like you." But the passage of days did not fulfill this prophecy since Jasmine's views of me did not change.

I acted as normal people would in such situations: I liked my cute little sister, so I did all I can to get to know her and establish communication between us. I flooded her with toys, candy, and clothes, and whatever she likes, and paid close attention to all her affairs. But my efforts only made her tense, so she kept a distance from me, and was cautious, as though I am a stranger. Her little heart remained closed to all my keys without sharing a single emotion from those sororial feelings which filled my heart. Our family members were touched when they saw all my efforts fail and in the end of each I would hear the same response: "Go away .. I don't want you."

I did theorize the situation, saying that sororial love is not an abstract concept for a four year old kid as it is for us, older folks, but must grew as a seed. Jasmine grew up in this house for four years and got accustomed to all its inhabitants, including the cat. She saw their faces every day and recieved their love and kindness. That was her world, the little happy kingdom she ruled. Then all of a sudden I came and she was told to include me as a citizen. Why? Because I am her sister. Is this an acceptable logic for her?

Jasmine never had a place reserved for me in her kingdom. I arrived late to find instead of the heart where I expected pure love a castle the entrance to which is forbidden.

What does distance do to us? In America I thought it erases slowly what we carried with us from our old worlds. I could not then discover the more important of its effects. Because of my obstinate sister Jasmine, I found out that absence does not erase only, but adds also. If the four years I spent away were all her years of jer life, that would explain her treatment of me as a stranger, but, how much did those years distance me from my mother for instance, or from Aiad?

They think that we gain from our lives abroad, without imagining the price which we will have to pay. The life away from home is not all joy, and its cost is usually heavy. Some of us pay it while distant, and some later. We return home altered, inside us new layers are piled, deep in each of which are different faces, echoes of words uttered in strange gatherings, visions of distant sites, paths curving in farms different from ours, and chambers in buildings which exist elsewhere.

We have lived a past with different roads and grown accustomed to different faces, and now we need to erase that past from our lives absolutely. No one here shares it with us. Every other past can exist in our present except that American past which we are obliged to efface immediately. Our parents and friends look at it worryingly. Just as Jasmine is cautious with me. They imagine that we should not change, and treat us as though we are still the same. That will be what first surprises us as we enter the house looking for our old connections. We try to do what they want from us, and erase the past for their sakes, but we eventually find out that the past is not a paper we can tear and rid ourselves of easily. And if we do, it will be the same as living in our house without Jasmine. She is the theoretical correlative to this change in my life. Isn't she four years old?

And then a new horrible feeling started growing inside me. Is it just me who have changed? Did they not change as well. Time has separated us. Jasmine's refusal of me is the name of this gap since she embodies all what I do not know in my parent's lives. And what do I know? They were telling me in their letters about important events, and these are usually the most superficial. What do I know about the essentials? Four years of silence, and then I come back and find Jasmine four years old. If my parents too have changed, and their change has a voice, it would shout at me: "Go.. We do not want you" in the same manner of Jasmine. Probably, it is already shouting.. That was how I felt.

Regardless of the situation, I grew very attached to Jasmine, so that her coldness towards me was a dismaying phenomena, making me feel like a stranger at home. I continued trying to decrease the distance between us, but I began - when all my efforts at gaining her friendship failed, to feel frustrated. So I told her angrily: "Jasmine. I do not love you. Do you hear?" And I would feel a wave of emotions gather in her face in such instances, but soon she would gather herself and respond challengingly: "Why don't you get back to America? I told you that you are not my sister and that I do not love you."

These conflicts between us increased becoming eventually serious. My mother was surprised that I did not learn in my travels to conceal my emotions so that I can manage situations instead of surrendering to them. She was also dismayed by my lack of patience, and told me numerous times and the question of the child's love for me should not be dealt with in a spirit of anger but requires self control until she grows accustomed to me and stops seeing me as a stranger in the house. But I was getting impatient, imagining that my mother too, has changed.

I continued my efforts without despairing of Jasmine. She is my sister and I love her and she will reciprocate my feelings one day. I would buy her a gift in the afternoon and then we would fight at dinner. It bothered me terribly that she would accept my gifts and refuse me. On numerous occasions, my father would protest that I am causing trouble at the dinner table by angering the child. I would sometimes upset her by taking her plate from its place in front of her, and she would bow her head refusing to talk or even comment on the matter. All this frustrated our mother whose patience deteriorated with this continuos conflict: Jasmine refused to love me, and I would not stop my affection for her.

Actually, the conflict between me and her was like a war, and it soon became obvious to everybody that Jasmine found pleasure in repeating the refrain: "Go. I don't want you." As for me, I ceased seeing her as a little baby girl, but imagined her an adult knowing perfectly what she is doing. She appeared to me ambiguous, obstinate, invincible, as though her four years are a strong castle which separates us leaving me behind the walls. Her world continued growing within me until it became larger than life. It disturbed me that others did not look at the matter seriously, but teased me about it occasionally, even though I was very affected by it.

I never had a truce with her. Often I would surprise her with horrible suggestions as saying: "Jasmine, would you like me to give you to that tall construction employee and ask him to build you into the wall? You will look real pretty there?" Or I would suggest hanging her in the fan at the ceiling and letting her turn. She probably understood that I was teasing her, so she would answer coldly as though she does not appreciate my sense of humor, saying: "Mamma would not agree." And my mother would blame me for telling such unpleasant jokes to a four year old. But I have ceased being wise. Jasmine's coldness angered me, and I forgot the basic laws of propriety. The conflicts between us continued until my dad complained saying he does not know who is the child, me or Jasmine.
Months passed without any change in the situation. Jasmine's kingdom stayed closed in my face until the summer arrived, when a strange unforgettable event took place.

Jasmine always refused to enter my room, and all my efforts to induce her to visit failed. So it happened in the early afternoon hours of a very hot day that I found her sleeping in my mother's room. There was an electricity shortage which effected one half of the house, and the fan stopped, so the baby was sweating terribly. I could not bear it so I decided to carry her to my room where the electricity was still available. I remembered right away that Jasmine does not like my room. It was not right for me to use her slumber to take her to it and enjoy seeing her there, even if asleep. But the availability of a good excuse and the justification of the child's own good stopped the voice of my conscience. All I want really is her happiness. Besides, couldn't she leave the room when she wakes up? I will not be her jailer.

That was how the event which I cannot explain until today took place. It was one of those casual passing events which look superficial but is actually related to the heart of matters in our lives and our behaviors, as though it would leave on us its profound impact, changing our lives.

I remember that my mother and father were out of the house that afternoon. Had they been there they would not have permitted me to take Jasmine to my room, even if it was to her advantage, so long as we had the war between us. So I laid my sister on my bed and stayed watching over her happily. Her face looked like the face of a happy sleeping child. I started reading, knowing that everything is all right. After an hour passed, I wondered whether she hasn't slept for too long? I decided to allow her another half an hour, and still she did not wake up, but continued her slumbering.

I started to feel tense. What heavy slumber! I started calling her name and touched her hair trying to wake her up, but without success. When she did not move, I was surprised so I carried her from the bed and sat her on my knee expecting her to say with a sleepy voice: "Leave me, I do not want you." But my expectation did not materialize and the baby just rested her head on my shoulder quietly and stayed slumbering. I was worried over her suddenly, doubting the nature of this profound slumber. I returned her to the bed and went searching for Ayad to ask for his opinion. He was in the garden watering the trees. When I explained the matter to him, he smiled saying: "Jasmine again! Why don't you let her sleep a bit? She needs some rest." His remark angered me, even though it was true. The child played a lot; she probably needs more rest.

I returned to my chamber again and tried to read. Ten more minutes passed and I noticed something which worried me. There was a strange movement in her closed eyes, as though her pupils were moving in circles underneath the closed eye lids. I touched her hands, and they were cold as ice. I did not hesitate. The baby is ill and I need to worry. I tried waking her up to no avail.
Finally I carried her and run to the garden where Ayad was. When he saw her lying motionless in my arms he looked worried and sat her on the nearest chair.

But his efforts at reviving her were futile: He whispered her name, touched her hair, shook her, sat her, while she continued her deep, death like, slumber. I felt terrible pain and was distressed. Shouldn't I call the family Doctor? Ayad was still rational so he put her on my knee and run to the nearest Doctor. He turned at the door, and, noting my paleness, said gently: "Don't worry. She has fainted."

Don't worry! Does he imagine that I am worried! I was going insane with distress. This has happened to the child because I took her to my room. If something should transpitre, I will be responsible. Me who loves her so much.

The following ten minutes were among the most severe in my life. Anxiety stirred my imagination. Images were appearing to my eyes in order, and to my memory arrived a childhood event which I have forgotten for many years. My parents bought me, when I was very young, a doll - and it moved when it was wounded up. As I sat watching her movements, she just stopped. I felt an ambiguous dread, as though I have killed somebody. I cried until my mother came and found me terrified. What brought this event to my memory? I looked to the pale Jasmine and felt the same feelings again, seeing in front of me the life which stopped in my hands. Did my childhood nightmare come to pass? It is not a doll this time but the most loved of people. My tears started falling.

I felt that it was painful for her to stay seated on my knee. She would refuse for me to hold her when she was filled with the warmth of life. Let me enjoy her now that her lips are blue and she is almost dead. I was egotistic in desiring her love even to the extent of carrying her sleeping to my room. Could she be so sensitive that she would get sick if someone forces her in this manner? Could she be dying through a secret will which I can not understand? Did I imagine that a sleeper would not know what goes on around him? Could she have felt that she is in my room and protested by fainting or dying?

I stayed worried as the baby showed no sign of life. Then I heard my mother and hurried to her and in my heart a great hope. She is my mother. Her mother. She will save her. If my love could not wake her up, the love of a mother is stronger. As soon as she saw us her countenance changed, knowing that something has happened. I still remember the strange tone of her inquisitive voice: "What is the matter with her?" my voice came weak and begging "She is sleeping."

Was it because of the presence of my mother that the child came back to life? She breathed deeply, and then was moaning and sighing for a few minutes. Then she opened her eyes and looked at us as though without recognition. Finally, she stared into the emptiness beyond my mother's shoulder and pushing her away, screamed. She started to the ceiling and cried. At that instant my mother lost her composure and shouted: "My baby is dying. Call the Doctor." I run to the phone and besides it I stood not knowing what to do: She is dying then. My whole body was shivering and my mind vacant.

At this minute Aiad entered with a doctor from the neighborhood. Jasmine woke up after a half an hour. The Doctor told us that she had an epileptic seizure.

As for me, I felt weary and depressed. So I withdrew to my room and locked its door. I could not analyze my feelings but I suffered from something which I cannot explain and probably have never felt before. I put my head on my desk and cried for a few minutes without knowing exactly why. I am not sure how I slept in my uncomfortable position either, but I dreamt.

The place was big and wide as an American train station which is found regularly in the big cities. And I had with me many heavy bags. A person whom I could not recognize stopped and talked to me for a few seconds. After he left I looked around but could not find my luggage. Its place was vacant. The sense of vacancy scared me because it stood in sharp contrast to the space which my luggage filled. I searched in the station for my bags, climbing stairs and descending others, as they ran in a nightmarish labyrinth. I would see my luggage in the distance each time, so I would feel sure that I will find them once I would turn around the stair. But the final stair would end suddenly with a wall springing from the emptiness, or would lead me downward, making my luggage more distant than before. Then I would end in a waiting hall and beside me stands a luggage carrier who politely points where my bags are but when I cross over they would disappear. Then the stairs started to thin out, and the paths cress cross so that I was unable to get any where. The place was filled with people and they would smilingly point the path to me and help me to no avail until I lost my equilibrium and started sweating profusely and was unable to speak. Then I heard a loud explosion resembling the crashing of two trains. I woke up.

It was a nightmare caused, undoubtedly, by the awkward position of my nick during my slumber.

Slumber and crying returned to me some peace and concentration. In the next few minutes I faced myself, discovering - in one of those epiphinic moments which might change the life of someone - the truth of the matter. Simply, I loved my sister and she hated me. Matters reached their conclusion this evening, and I must withdraw before it is too late. No more teasing her after today, neither sweets nor candy. No efforts to invite her to my room. Didn't I discover that she prefers epilepsy to my companionship?

What now? Does it truly please me to force her to love me? What is the value of a sorority which does not spring as a flower when the sun shines? I have seen Jasmine for the first time and she filled my soul, so why did I not fill hers? My emotions were embracing the coldness of snow without knowing. Jasmine was a beautiful marble statue which no friendship can reach. It is in vain that I try to squeeze a one drop of kindness out of this stone.

Am I emotional? probably. This was the view of my mother. Or is it that I do not know how to treat this strange child? I have depleted all means, only to discover that I can not resolve this complexity. The girl is a wall I cannot pass, like the walls in my nightmare.
When I discovered the impossibility of understanding her, I started to feel some inner peace. It is always comforting to know that the key to impossible goals is beyond our will and effort, and the moment when we reach this insight we are liberated from the influence of these goals and their impact on us. So I started to assert my independence from Jasmine, hoping to imagine that she does not reside in the house, as though she never existed.

A new phase in my family life started. I did not reach out to Jasmine or talk to her without a reason. It was difficult in the first few days since I was accustomed to keep busy with her to the extent that it was difficult to push her from my mind suddenly. But I continued and persevered refusing to be easy on my self. Soon the pain waves receded until it faded away. As for Jasmine, nothing seemed to have changed. To the contrary, she appeared happier and in better health, not in need of anything. Two weeks passed.

It so happened during this period that a young female relative swallowed, while laughing, a needle which she was toying with in her mouth. The needle stayed deep in her throat, making it difficult for her to breath. She had to go to England to have an operation. The girl's parents did not know English, and they insisted that I accompany the girl. I gathered my small suitcase in a hurry, and found myself in a couple of days in London with the girl and her mother.

When saying good bye to family members, upon reaching Jasmine I hesitated: Should I kiss her as I kissed the others? I remembered her epilepsy so I controlled myself, content with just saying a nice word and leaving her, almost in tears. She is my sister after all and I should not treat her in this manner at a good bye moment. Who knows? We may never meet again? Jasmine did not return my good-bye but hid her little face in the shoulder of my mother and did not raise it until she faded from my sight.

I stayed in England for a couple of months only. The operation succeeded, and we watched the patient's situation ameliorate day after day, which gave us time to think of other, less important, matters. Ayad would write me the news twice a week, but what I heard about Jasmine was important. She was less energetic, lost some of her appetite.. and was often crying and making a fuss over little things. All my mother's efforts to make her regain her previous happiness failed.

Such news would pain and worry me. I would wish that I was home to help bring her happiness back to her. I discovered also that her voice telling me: "Go, I do not want you" is better than the silence of the London Hospital. I never imagined that her suffering was caused by my absence. Her coldness made her coming to me one day seem impossible. Reaching the moon was easier than me and her becoming sisters.

The same morning I received a lengthy letter from my mom which detailed events which shook me and sounded unbelievable. Jasmine was inquiring about me, and using my absence as an excuse for crying and demanding whatever is forbidden her. She exploded one morning saying angrily that she does not love anyone in the house as much as me. She would ask everyday when am I coming back? She even requested that they write telling me that she loves me and wants me back home.

How this letter affected me? I wished that the two remaining weeks of my stay in London would pass so that I would return and finally live in peace with my sister. Our war lasted for about nine months.

At the airport, at the day of my return, Jasmine's face was the first I saw behind the counter among those welcoming me home. I reached out to her, still fearing holding and carrying her. When I called her name, she hid her face at my mother's shoulders - as she did at the day of my departure - and Ayad told her excitedly: "Jasmine. Widad is back as you wished. Say hello to her." That appeal was unheeded, for she did not raise her head, and I feared. They must have fooled me. Aiad lost all patience, so he carried her from my mother and gave her to me. She did not resist, but she hid her face in my shoulder refusing to raise it or say anything. But I saw the flickering of a smile on her face. I noticed that for the first time she did not scream: "Go. I do not want you." I started to relax. Haven't I yet learned that the smallest of smallest of her acts carry the strongest of meanings?

I carried her and run home, heedless of my luggage. I did not feel ashamed of my appearance as I ran carrying her, while many of my acquaintances stared.

The Sun beyond the Mountain Top.
Nazik Almalaika

Masked. They are all masked. Not an appeasing sight. It only intensifies the situation adding to it dimension and angles of horrific shadows. The tallest among them is the Doctor, her cousin Salam. He is veiled too, only his eyes are visible, in them a strictness which she has grown accustomed to whenever he was assisting her. She is lying on the operation table, her eyes looking at the ceiling.

Dr. Salam says: "We will give you a small dosage of an anesthetic, and perform the operation while you stay awake. Are you frightened?"

She denies it: "No. I am not frightened." Inside her head she said: "Hada! You are scared. But you have to withstand everything patiently for the sake of the baby which you have been anticipating for nine months. For you my baby I will be patient with the pain. Your mother will be strong for you poor arrival. I will be your mother and father my love."

-"Turn to your left side. Do you feel any pain?"
That was the voice of her cousin, carrying, along with its usual strictness, a touch of gentleness. She was actually feeling the pains of delivery since morning.

"Do not worry about it. You will not feel the pain much longer."
She says to herself: "All pains will go, and then the unwanted baby will arrive. Oh!"
The Doctor has just inserted a long needle into the middle of her back bone.

She felt the pain spreading. But the needle must stay in its place for five minutes. And the pain increased. "God. Please give me comforting thoughts to busy me from all pain." She has been accustomed in her life to god responding to her prayers, especially in times of great agony. Her memory turned back to events which passed a year and a half ago.

Days of their engagement. They are laughing, him and her, Huda and Nabeel. The moisture touching their feet, dangling in the river's water. He was sitting beside her and they both have taken off their shoes. They were alone in this isolated region even though they went out, engaged, with her parents for a promenade. While the rest were preparing the food, the two of them sat by the river. He strongly pushed his feet inside the river and water drops flew in the air moistening her dress. She screamed: "Careful! You're wetting my dress." he playfully hit her feet with his: "Wouldn't you like us to be kids?"

-"I like that sometimes. I find myself happy and laughing as though life is without worries."
-"Do you know Huda? I heard your students at college say that you are always laughing. They are surprised, because others do not laugh all the time as you do."

-" Yes. They asked me once about that. One day I finished the lecture and stayed after class for about ten minutes which I gave to the students' questions about the subject. And then a tall student said to me: "the whole class wishes to ask you a question outside the topic of discussion." I refused that first in order to save time for further questions. I am serious in class. But the students insisted that they must ask so I permitted them and then they told me: "You are always laughing."

"We knew you for about three years and we never have seen you without a smile shining brightly on your face."

"And you humor with us even when we give the wrong answer. No. you sometimes even hit the student with the wrong answer with a piece of chalk. So, what is the secret for this cheerfulness? Are you without any worries? Don't you have any problems?"

For a second Huda was quite. Nabil then said: "And then what? It seems to me that you do not wish to let me know the answer. It bothers me that you sometimes pause interesting questions in your articles, then do not respond to them because of your respect for artistic shape."

Huda laughed: "This is true. I will do everything for artistic shape sometimes."

-"And now, answer your students' question. I find myself equally interested in knowing the answer to the question. Why do you always laugh?"

-"All right. I will tell you exactly what I said to my students. I had my share of troubles and worrying at every period of my life. I am made of flesh and blood like everybody else. Is there any one without sorrow? That kind of a person must be less sensitive than a book cover. But I stay cheerful Because I am happy with life: the moon, the stars, the wonder of infinity, the warm blood running through my veins, the beauty of the being of God and my sense of his awesome closeness to us."

With love and the yearning for the infinity in my being, with the magic of poetry and the beauty of music, with my fear and love of death, with my father and my brothers and our friends whom I love and who love me, with thousands of little things, these things make me happy with life, turning into the smiles on my lips and a gleam in my eyes. That is why I laugh in class and am never depressed."

Nabil suddenly exploded: "You are beautiful Huda." He quickly kissed her cheek and said: "you've made of laughter a philosophy."
-"Yes. I believe that laughter is the greatest gift of the God of goodness and beauty to creation. Every human being can cry and moan, but only the fulfilled individual can laugh."

-"How true. Didn't Nietzsche say that "Pain is profound But happiness is more profound than pain?"

-"He was right because the ability to be happy is creative and wide, tasting the whole universe, while the capacity for sorrow is always limited and private. We only laugh because of a deep appreciation for things which makes us totally involved with the world. I also feel that when we are sad we are just us, but when we laugh we are with the universe. It is the humanity in us which laughs. This is my philosophy and therefore I am cheerful."

He then looked serious and said: "But, all this cheerfulness you generously gave your students! But Your lovely smile was never for me. Six months you greeted me politely and formally, and sat seriously so I was very cautious in your presence. I hid my feelings from you and was silent. What is the secret for this behavior?"
She answered with kindness: "I treated you the same way as I treat all men. Nothing but seriousness with them. Even though I recall that I once smiled at you freely, without any sense of constraint. This is an event I shall never forget because it is associated with an important day of my life."

He was becoming more serious as he listened. But after hearing her last word he said as one confessing: "Yes, you smiled for me just once. and I saw that it was a smile for me, complete, deep. It was just for me and absorbed my entire life and being. I came to your father's house and asked for your hand that same day. Do you remember that?"

-"I remember it well. But my smile that day was innocent, like my smiles to students, the sun, and the rainbow, and the mountains of sand. It did not seek to captivate and absorb your being."

She laughed and said seriously: "You seem not to understand that your being is deep and wide as a river and I will spend years exploring it before comprehension."

She said that while touching his ear playfully and he took her hand in his and kissed her thumb. Then he touched her feet with his, and hit the water, drops of which flew in the air and moistened her dress again. At that instant the voice of her sister reached her : "Huda! Huda! Dr. Nabil. The food is ready."

She felt that Dr. Salam was withdrawing the needle from her back bone. it was painful. He told her: "Turn on your back and relax. Turn now, because you won't be able to do it later. The drug started to spread through your body. What are you feeling?"

-"Pain in my back bone where the needle entered."
-"What else?"
-"I feel a cold and numbness at me feet."
Dr. Salam said as he arranged his mask: "The coldness will increase and rise higher. expect that. Are you scared?"
-A little bit."
It is the evening of their marriage after a few months engagement. She is setting next to him as he drives the car. He had asked her to leave hers at the Garage in her dad's home, so that he might pick her up in his car to the new house which they furnished together. Her Grand mother kisses her as she leaves the house and wishes her the best of luck, while her father and sisters all stand up. She felt the absence of her dead mother. Why does her grand mother give her to her husband in this important night of her life?
coldness, coldness which reaches her heart. Her whole body is turning to ice. even her brain is frozen, her ideas jumbled, mixed with images, reflections, dreams and night mares.

Where are you my beloved mother? From whom shall my husband receive me tonight? My wedding night?

"Oh, I am going to throw up. Please left up my head to throw up." Her head is turning.
-"Huda, honey, I am your grand mother. There are no differences between me and your mother.
Hot and bitter liquid pours from her mouth into her cheeks and nick.
-I am your mother Huda so dry your tears . Let your smile brighten your face.
The huge wheel is turning, and the car is going to crash. Oh, oh, careful, the wheels are getting closer. A violent crash.
-"Dr. Salam. She is eating the vomit."
-"Raise her head a bit."
Her sister Laila says: "Wouldn't it have been better for Huda to wear the usual wedding gown? She is perverse in every thing. Here she is leaving with her husband wearing this simple dress as though she is going to college."
Why didn't they notice that I wore a white dress symbolizing innocence and the purity of my feelings for Nabil? Neither of us were sensual.
The wheel is turning. Another car crash. The front window is broken and the lights are turned off. Darkness, darkness, she is suffocating. It is the voice of her little sister, Muna.
-"And she would not allow us the invite any body for the wedding, proudly rejecting the beautiful marriage ceremony."
That is valueless, valueless.
Suddenly, she regained consciousness, and the vomiting stopped.
She went out with Nabil after saying: "In the name of God the most just and merciful I begin my new life. Bless us Dear God." She sat beside him in his small car. He said to her cheerfully.
-"Our fridge is empty dear wife. What shall we buy to put in it?"
-"Some fruit and milk and butter and cheese and bread to make breakfast tomorrow."

The coldness increases. Broken ice streams from my heart flooding my veins. My heart is frozen, dispatching ice into my veins.
A small fruit store in a modern Baghdad suburb. Each one of them felt the uncanniness of the situation. A married couple on their wedding night leave their car to buy fruits and the sales person can not tell that they have just gotten married. Besides, it is unusual for newly weds to go shopping in their wedding night. But she, Huda, was rejoicing.

How silly it is of people to make those loud wedding parties? How beautiful is the sound of silence and the solitude surrounding them as they sit close to one another in the car. All things gain depth and significance. And she can appreciate the sublimity of such moments as she stands on the verge of a new ambiguous life, with a man who is her friend from college, whom she has chosen, who has chosen her, without any body intervening. And the two of them stand now on the threshold of married life, in their selves innocence and dread and the roots of happiness going down to their blood appearing occasionally on their lips. And even the impression of their smiles carry half embarrassment, half dread, half surprise in the front of the ambiguity of a tomorrow of which they know nothing now but the door knob and the shadows of a long corridor the beginning of which is lighted and its ending covered in vague shadows. Their silence is significant, and their fragmented utterances are meaningful. Those beautiful meanings she would not have felt if her wedding was being celebrated with tens of cars following and the screams of relatives and friends.

It always seemed to her that wedding nights were concerned with expressing the sexual and degraded part of marriage only. Those people do not imagine the wedding night as the opening of a new poetic life between two human being, each with feelings and thoughts and taste, and they do not appreciate the spiritual aspect of the relationship. All they understood was that a steamy sexual encounter is about to take place. And this representation made Huda always fear marriage through out her life and refuse it for herself. She always felt that the relationship of a man and a woman is profound as a wide horizon, a noble attachment consisting of poetry and music and life. And even if it includes the sexual, it happens accidentally as a result of understanding and affection, and not for its own sake as some imagine. They present it ugly and gross in the wedding night. And when she saw this style of looking at marriage she decided to spend her life a virgin, despising this "shame" which lowers the humanity of man and dissipates his spiritual beauty.

The nausea is finally disappearing. Her mind is clear. The vomiting has stopped and she saw the Doctor, her cousin, take a knife and press it into her belly. Besides her their was a young doctor encouraging her to withstand the operation so she asked him naively: "why is he tickling me like that?"

The young Doctor replied: "He is not tickling you. He has opened a deep wound inside your belly."

Dr. Salam asked: "Do you feel any pain?"
-No. I don't."
They are married for a week now. They are laughing, him and her, the were always laughing, as Adam and Eve did thousands of years ago. They laugh and are happy so that the baby is born out of their laughter. She hears the voice of Nabil coming from the distance telling her: "Huda! How I love our laughter and humor. But I always feel as though life is preparing for us a trap. All what nature cares about is that we have a baby."
"First, do not say a "nature", for it is God who created laughter to push us further until the baby is born, the white flower of nature and its butterfly. And why do you call that a trap? Did you wish us to bring the baby to life while we are frowning and coerced, hateful of one another?
He thought for a minute and said: "You're right. Let's bring babies to life while we smile at least.
Isn't it bad enough that we have to bring them any way?"
She looked surprised and responded: "Nabil, don't you like children?"
His reply shook her: "They are a heavy burden. And I love how we laugh and are happy without burdens as we were during the engagement. Let our life be a paradise without children.

She felt the doctor's hands touching her guts and cried: "I am going to throw up again. Help me.
She made this appeal as her hand reached to the hand of the young doctor standing masked beside her. She grabbed it fiercely as though she is drowning and it is a life line. She felt embarrassed and did not know how did she allow herself to grab the hand of a man who is a total stranger?
Pictures, voices, and the features of soft faces falling into her mind as though God is saving her from her pain as she stays awake during the operation. The voice of one of her cousins - the sister of dr. Salam - rung in her ear. "Huda! Do you know why they call it a Cesarean Operation?"
Her stream of thought was confused. Cesarean operation Cesarean. operation. Caesarian... Why do they give it that name why does it refer to Caesar, the Roman emperor?
Laus sit Dio, qui tabulam et calamum creavit, at que hominem docuit, quod antea nasciabit, et benedicto et pax super Mohammed.
This was latin, the language of Caesar. What did he do? Alham will answer. Why?
Why? Cur rides. She felt that her head will explode. And the face of Alham brown and circular and her small mouth appeared palely to her and she said: "The Caesarian operation refers to a Roman emperor. His wife's pregnancy was difficult and the baby was about to suffocate. So he ordered that they open the belly of his poor wife mercilessly, without any attention being paid to her in order to save the baby."
-"What cruelty my God? So our lives are without value? My life valueless? And those cruel Romans would eat their fruits as they watched tens of slaves slaying one another to amuse audiences and then the carts arrive and carry the corpses, each on top of the other in a heap , while they continue to eat the fruits. These were the Roman emperors.
Alham says in a loud voice which came as though through a loud speaker: "It is called "Caesarian" because Caesar was cruel and wicked without any humanity. He opened the belly of his wife with a knife so that the baby gets out and left the mother to die alone drowning in a pool of blood."

Then Alham's voice became gentler: "You are lucky Huda because you are giving birth at this age. Today the Doctors open your belly without your feeling any pain and both you and your baby might survive. Isn't this better?
The hands of the Doctor continues to touch her guts and the nausea returns as the ticking of a clock. But in her consciousness there are moments of clarity and focus, and she goes on living the past, imagining that her soul is rising leaving her body in the hands of the Doctors and nurses. As though God is mercifully carrying her through the pain of being awake during the operation.

How tender and kind is Nabil? There isn't any one more generous than he in the whole world. She wondered how God arranged for her this happy marriage and asked herself: What would have happened had she agreed to marry any of the other men who courted her before Nabil? Most of whom were good, but none as kind, spiritual, sensitive, idealistic.

A week after their marriage, he tells her: "Huda, we do not want any children. Isn't it so? Shouldn't we check a Doctor to help us with that?"
She is pale as she protests: "We don't want any children? Why?"

-"Didn't I express this wish to you before? But I always felt that you shared my desire in not having children. We, the two of us, want to have perfect happiness, and spend our time writing and being creative, travelling the diverse regions of the glove endlessly, reading and discussing numerous subjects, filling the world with thought and humor and art.
How does this life style sound to you?"

She said surprised: "We will give time to writing, and we will laugh and travel, but that does not preclude having children."
"Honey. Children are a burden on their parents. Did we work so hard at learning and gaining knowledge in order to waste it all at child bringing and education?"
She said in a frustrated and angry tone: "I will not be happy without children. Their love runs in my veins."
He was quite, and she felt that she has hurt his sensitive feelings with her firmness, so she added gently: "What is the matter? Why are you quite? Don't you love children?"
-"I can't stand them, and I do not wish to have a child."
-"Not even one?"
-"Honey. Is it absolutely essential that you become a mother?"
Her tears were about to fall as she said: "Absolutely, But since you do not like children let us have just one, whether it be a boy or a Girl. Let me try motherhood. I yearn to be a mother, and it saddens me that you do not share my affection for kids."

And he was quite for a second and then turned to her suddenly saying: "Huda! What happened to you? Didn't you tell me during our engagement how you despised pregnancy? Didn't you reject marriage proposals more than once because of your disgust of pregnant women? These were matters which you told me about."

-"Well, let me explain. During my youth I despised sexual relations and hated marriage accordingly. And these sentiments were related to my disgust of the pregnant woman. She appeared to me both sensual and vulnerable. I was preparing myself to become an artist. And today I feel I was egotistical in refusing to give from my self to life. I loved life while refusing to give it living beings for the continuation of the human race. But these emotions lost their vigor with the passage of time. I have grown and matured learning to follow my emotions. Since I love children I can't refuse pregnancy, nor despise a pregnant woman."
-"What you are saying is strange. I am glad that each one of us is opening to the other so that our marriage is based on complete understanding. So, what was your position when you agreed to marry me?"

-"I was deeply changed, otherwise I would not have married you to begin with."
-"But is it necessary for a marriage to end up with parenthood?"
-"Marriage is egotistical without children. For the two partners will stay occupied with the sensuous part of marriage, and sensuality - which is the polite term for lust - might become the soul motive for the continuation of the alliance. While marriage for the two of us is a perfection sublimation and a spiritual consummation. Did not God indicate that the relationship of marriage is an attachment and a spiritual sympathy?"
-"Honey, what you are saying is beautiful. But don't we share the kindness sublimity and spiritualism which fills our lives and thought even without children."
-"We do have that, thank God. But each one of us is busy with pleasing the other aesthetically. You try to look good so that I would love you, and I try to look my best so that you would love me. And I do not mean the beauty of appearance only, but the beauty of thought and the heart as well. I mean that you express your emotions to me to impress me with it, and I also try to express my thoughts and the unique in my personality to charm you."
-"And what is wrong with that Huda? We become more beautiful intellectually and emotionally. And that fecunds our live and beautifies our entire existence."

-"But this beautification is cheap. True love does not beautify. And parenthood effaces beautification between its two partners. When you become a father, you will be occupied with the childhood multi-colored flower which sprung from our love, and the child will be our natural beauty, Tenderness the beauty of our eyes, and sacrifice our make up and rings. We will be rid of the fear that we may lose one another, and stop all sorts of beautification. You might see me with my hair unraveled and my lips dry with fear for our baby as he cries between my arms and you will feel that you never loved me more than at this minute."
He thought for a few seconds and said slowly: "Let me think. I am not sure. I do not believe that a child will increase my love for you. Probably the baby will be just another form of beautification since in my gaze you are beautiful without it. Don't we have together enough of beauty and attractiveness and brightness?"

All of a sudden she felt fatigued knowing that the discussion have went on for too long without an end in sight, as though she has run and run a long distance then her feet slipped and she fell on thick and burning sands, or on brokwn shards of glass which wounded her."
But Nabil is sensitive, he senses her deepest feelings immediately and so he adds right away: "Don't be sad. You will have a baby and I won't stand in your way but..., take this first." He kissed her lips so she turned her head saying with a complaining tone: "I should have thanked you for your acceptance of a one Baby. But even this limited permission is constrained with a "but".
-"enough of this subject for now, and you will have a one baby. Are you happy now?"
-"My happiness will be incomplete until I understand your stipulation."
The smell of medicine at the operation room. It is unbearable. She tries not to smell it. She starts vomiting again as she lay on her back , and the young Doctor says to her as she continuously clang to his left hand: "Left up your head so that the liquid will pour into the cup, without your eating it again."
And she cried as she suffocated: "I can't. An ice mountain is on my nick. My head does not turn no matter how hard I try."
-"Try to turn it it. Try again."
She succeeded in raising her head and she breathed a deep breath and asked him with her hand grabbing his arm. "What is your name?"
-"Mahmood Al Shakiri."
-"Are you a Doctor?"
-"Yes, but I am under training. I attend operations as preparation."
-"I hope you will not get a bad impression of me when I grab your hand in mine like that. Your hand is human, and I feel like I am in a tomb."
-"Mrs. Huda, I will not have a bad impression of you. You need someone's help in this difficult situation."
It happened after their voyage to cairo, five months after the marriage. When they returned she suffered a continuos nausea, and could not bear the taste of water, and when Dr. Salam checked, he informed her of her pregnancy. And Nabil was with her listening. He did not utter a word. She was shook with the news. And the car carried them home: "I am pregnant. What do you think?"
He said quietly: "An expected news item in the live of married couples, nothing special about it.
-"But it is special to me. It excites me, and I am pleased."
-"You say you are pleased? Huda! The tears are falling from your eyes and moistening your face. Look!"
He said that as he passed his hand over her face. It was wet. "Why are you crying?"
-"I don't know. I am scared, and this continuing nausea is horrible. Besides, I feel that you are unhappy with the thought of parenthood. I will carry the child alone, and feel happy with motherhood alone. Isn't it so?"
Nabil was always kind, so he told her: "What pleases you pleases me, even if I was not happy with the idea of the baby. What can I do to please you in this matter? Forgive me."
-"But why? For God's sake, why? How beautiful it is to have a kid who calls you Dad and calls me Mam! While you spoil him and embrace him in your arms."
-"Honey, if you wish me to carry it, I will carry it. But I can not love it. That is all there is to it."
-"Your Kid, made of your flesh and blood, and how can I explain that?"
-"I assumed that your love of art will make you different from other women in their attachment to children, and I did not know that we will bring children. And I - honestly - do not like this baby. I cannot spoil it, laugh or play with it."
She now felt the bitter taste of tears on her lips. He will not love the new baby. It will be born deprived of the love of its father. Thus the lord ordained.
With a serious but happy voice Dr. Salam said: "It's a boy."
She felt a new wave of vomit starts, and felt dramatic and complicated feelings. So maternity is always connected with pain? As soon as she heard that the new born is a boy she imagined from the pain she felt that her whole belly was bursting into the outside, in vomit. Her voice rose as she asked: "But where is he?"
Dr. Mahmood said gently to her: "It is still in the womb. The Doctor did not get it out yet."
-"And how did he know it is a boy?"
-"Your baby did not turn, so his legs are downward, and as soon as the knife opened the wound we knew it is a boy."
She was lost in reflection! Her Baby does not turn so the Doctor is coerced to have a caesarian operation. That has happened to other women before, but why was it her luck that she alone is given only a partial anesthetic instead of the complete one which makes one lose consciousness so that she does not have to face any pain during the process of birth - giving? She has had a severe cold before pregnancy, and if it was not cured, they would have had to give her the partial anesthetic. She said to herself: "The lord wants me to go through an experience which will give me new images and feelings."
Pain attaches the self to humanity and gives it a taste of the infinite.
So thank you lord.

Something horrible started to happen to her. The doctor was pulling something from inside her. What is it he is pulling, perhaps the baby? It must be the baby. But why do I feel that he is pulling my heart and my whole insides out? Oh God, When will this terrible pulling end? I feel that I am dying. Dr. Salam. You are pulling the life out of my body. Stop it. I am dying.
And Salam said to her and in his voice a gentleness concealed behind the usual seriousness of surgeons: "Just be patient. It is almost over."

As the pulling ended she lost consciousness, and the images and thoughts were mixed up during the fainting spell. She saw herself standing in front of her sister Laila crying a flood of bitter tears: "Laila, Laila, How unhappy is the infant I am carrying in my womb. His dad does not want him and he will not kiss him nor buy him presents and candy."

Laila Shouted bothered: "What is this crab? Who told you this?"

-"Nabil told me so many times. He wants us to live together for traveling and writing and friends without babies."
"If Nabil told you that know sister that he himself is ignorant that the sense of fatherhood is an instinct. You will see how he loves his baby. Listen to what I am saying and stop crying. How could you believe what he says? Don't you see how kind he is even to strangers? You have a very sensitive husband, gentle as a candle, so it is impossible for him to be cold to his own baby. What did he say? He will not love his baby. Take this napkin. Dry your tears and you will see the accuracy of my prophecy."
-"But he has assured me of that many times. I am sewing the clothes for the baby and when he sees it he does not express and joy. While I kiss each dress I make for the unknown being."
She awoke from the fainting spell, sensing that the pulling is finished.
Dr. Salam raised the naked baby, and raised it high so that the mother would see it lying on the table.
-"This is your baby. Look at it."
And she did: It was a little naked creature, quite, a piece of red brown flesh in the hands of the Doctor. She felt it was a treasure. It was her baby. She felt very happy. And screamed - "I can not breath. Help me."
And the Doctor cried: "Oxygen. Give me Oxygen."
And they lifted a machine high and gave her a little instrument which, upon touching her mouth, returned life to her. What would have happened if she had lived in the Nineteenth Century instead of the Twentieth? She would have suffocated and died. And now that the Oxygen is available, and the vomiting is over, her whole being is addressed to the new baby. She saw Dr. Salam gives him to a masked nurse standing beside him. And the nurse turned around and went with the baby to a table at the right.

With difficulty Huda turned her head around and stared at the baby. She saw two nurses with a pair of cessors. She knew they were cutting the life line. God. Is it alive? Why does it not cry? May be it understands the difficulties it will have to face before it is born. No. Your dad will not love you baby, and you will find no pleasure in calling for him: "Daddy." So why do you not cry?
Her mind was confused. Does she want crying to indicate life, or as a sign of sadness because the innocent infant is prevented of its father's love? She started vomiting again and Mohammed told her: "The reason for the vomit is that you are eating the matter again. Try to raise your head in order to expel it and feel better."

She felt a terrible pain and that she is expelling her guts outside. She could not breath wothout difficulty. Her fingers grabbed the hands of the young Doctor who told her: "You have faced a lot and little remains. Be strong in your patience."

Her head was about to explode. Giving birth is a horrible experience. But the great god was wise when he wanted the mother to suffer as she gives birth. Her love for the baby increases with the amount of her suffering for it. The baby is associated with these horrible pains and she wants it to live and be happy, as a reward for the agony she faced. And the pain of the mother during child giving is the secret of her humanity and her grandness. She feels that she is giving her being and her rest for the price for the continuation of the human race. Her sacrifice connects her with god, and associates her with the divine. She is sacrificing herself for the sake of humanity. And for the sake of the new baby she will put up with all kinds of pain with a smile. Here I am, Huda, who was spoiled and tender throughout my life not excepting any pain, even the smallest. Am I not facing the operation of birth giving courageously and patiently, while thanking the lord all the while? But, God, why does it not cry? Is it born dead? She felt the idea cuts her like a knife and the world became worthless in her eyes and she felt death.

-"Oh oh oh oh".

It is crying. Thank you lord. My baby is alive. You have given me this gift. She said to the Doctor, while her hand still grabbed his: "I was afraid that it is not alive."

He responded: "All mothers are afraid of that. The Doctor now will begin to sew the wound.
The taste of her tears returned to her lips. Nabil was tender, and his tenderness surrounded her every second. It saddened him that he could neither love the new baby nor share with his wife her joy in it. He continuously apologized: "Excuse me Huda, how I wish I could have been a loving parent for our baby. But I can't. Parenthood appears to me as a storm in a tea cup. And I hurt for your suffering. But what can I do for myself? These are my feelings and I am expressing them honestly so that you would not hurt later. I have to be honest with you. I love you deeply, but can't share your love for it."
She screamed: "Your love for me? Don't even mention it. The man who does not love my baby cannot love me. Don't you know that you have a duty towards it? You are its father, and God and the laws of society oblige you to do your duty towards it."
He stoke her hair gently saying: "I will do my duty, and it is sacred. I will give the baby all that I can in terms of education, time, and money. But I can't love it. This is the matter I wish that you understand from now on so that you won't be shocked later."

-"And do you think that obligation is just time and money? Duty is a feeling. You need to give the baby its proper place inside your heart. That is your obligation."
-"I can not do that, May God forgive me."
She became quite, beginning to understand the bitter truth.
"We are finished. Congratulations." It was the voice of Salam, her cousin. He went on: "Do you still need the Oxygen? Let us try to remove it and see." And they did.
-"I am suffocating. The Oxygen, please."
-"Return the Oxygen. Take it with her to her chamber."
Dr. Salam withdrew and left off the mask from his face. And so did the nurse and Dr. Mahmood smiled saying: "I wish you and your baby happiness."
-"Thank you. You have been kind to me."
She finally let go of his hand. Her fingers relaxed for the first time. And the nurse started to cover her body with a napkin. and then they drove her on a carriage away. And outside she saw a strange image.
On front of the operation room stood Nabil, her four brothers, her aunt with her daughter, Alham. They were all looking at the carriage with pale scared faces, their eyes telling despair. She did not know why. Since she and her baby are safe, why are they worried? She looked and smiled to assure them, but the fear stayed on their faces. She could not understand the reason. And regretted her smile. May be it was inappropriate for her to smile in this situation.
She thought: "May be they get worried and difficult situations shakes them. The events are rather intense, and they are concerned. How different am I from others? I smile at them while I am being carried on a carriage of pain, and my stomach opened without proper anesthetic, and I will be in pain for hours to come. What is the secret for my happiness?"
She could not think about the mask which separated her from them. She forgot the Oxygen apparatus which scared her loved ones. They have seen her covered in a white dress which showed nothing but her face, running beside her a machine hiding half of it. They did not know that she was smiling for them.. Life brings its veil between loved ones and accidents happen.
The carriage reached room number. 8 and two nurses tried together to carry her to her bed, one of them smiling gently at her saying: "We are glad that you are well."
-"God bless you. thank you all for taking care of me."
And the two nurses left to the door and stood there. Did Nabil find out that he has a son? How did he feel about that? She felt the agony burn in her heart afresh.
-"A quarter of an hour only, then you will be allowed in. She is still using the Oxygen apparatus."
she heard the footsteps of laila withdrawing. She cried. She has heard from people that motherhood is painful, but did not know it was that painful. She said to the nurse as she moaned:
-"Could I see my baby?"
The nurse laughed: "No. Today is tuesday and we will bring him for you to see for the first time on thursday, so that you can breast feed him then for the first time."
-"And what would he drink till then?"
-"Just warm water to clean up his stomach."
-"Wouldn't he feel hungry?"
-"He is satisfied with what he had when he was inside the womb. He will not feel hungry till thursday."
She felt that they were cruel. How would they know that her baby is not hungry? She responded: "I wish I might breast feed him before that."
-"These are the feelings all mothers share. But know that if we brought him to you tomorrow, you will not be able to breast feed him."
-"Why not, for Goodness sake?"
-"Because the milk is not there in your breast. And you will not be able to feed him till thursday morning. So relax now. The baby is safe with us in the next chamber."
Huda felt suddenly that she can breath regularly, so she gave the oxygen mask to the nurse: "I don't need it any more."
-"Very good."
Huda thought: How could a baby stay without food for forty hours? Since God did not permit the mother to feed it for that duration, he then has given it what it needs to get through that period. God also has installed inside the chicken's egg enough air to breath until it leaves the egg shell.
She heard the nurse saying: "come on in." and her sister Laila entered shouting happily: "I have great news for you. Excuse me, Congratulations first."
She kissed her hurriedly and said: "Do you know? I have a great piece of news. Do you know that Nabil cried when they told him he has a baby boy?"
-"Are you kidding me? May be he cried for my safety."
-"Your safety pleases him. He cried because of his happiness for the baby. The others will tell you."
At that instant her aunt entered, and, after kissing her, Laila said: "Aunt, tell Huda how Nabil acted?"
Her aunt laughed, as she knew Nabil's statements about his hatred of children. She said:
-"Well, the nurse came inquiring : Who is the husband?" And when we pointed to Nabil she said: "Congratulations. You are a father to a boy. The mother is doing well." Immediately the tears started to pour down from his eyes. He told the nurse: "Please cover him well so that he does not get a cold." And the nurse said: "Do not worry about him. He is well taken care of. Come to see him to rest assured." And he went with her, and stayed for a long while just looking at the baby. He gave to the nurse money more than once, insisting that she should take good care of it. The nurses are laughing among themselves for this excessive paternal caring."
Nabil then entered the chamber looking embarrassed. The others left the two of them together. And he came closer to her and his lips were shaking. and he bent and kissed her checks and hands. She was happy that he did not kiss her lips. That indicated to her that he is happy with the baby and that he feels like a father. The baby pulled him above narrow sensuality to the wide horizon of parenthood. His kiss on her hand indicated to her his new respect for maternity. He now does not kiss her because she is his beloved wife, but because she is the mother of his child. He is awed by the maternal light which shone on her pale features after giving birth.
All these thought went through her head in seconds. While he kept quite. He was very excited. and she asked : "Are you happy with our baby?"
-"I am glad that God saved the two of you."
-"And do you feel that you love him. Tell me honestly."
-"I am surprised that I do."
-"And you will carry spoil and kiss him?"
-"I do not know the answer to such questions. But I can stay all night watching his room. I feel a longing for him which I did not expect."
And then her face brightens and she told him blamingly: "You have kept me worried for monthes by saying that you will not love him."
So saying she cried and turned her head away from him. He kissed her saying: "I am all apologies. I did not know it would be that valuable to me. I was ignorant. I did not know that fatherhood is a blessing to the father."
She closed her eyes and thanked God quietly. The wound was starting to smart now. And she remembered the warning of Dr. Salam: "The difficult part about partial anesthetic is that its effect terminates within half an hour after the operation. You will have to withstand the pain Huda. You had a cold till the last minute. And sometimes we have to suffer in life."
She did not wish to worry her husband with the news of her coming agony. She now respected and sympathized with him. And she insisted to bear her pain alone. She was happy enough because she is a mother and Nabil is a father and the baby is safe. He said to her: "I am afraid that our baby will be mixed up with another."
-"Yes, warn the nurse about that."
-"I already did. She assured me that it is impossible. He is sleeping in a carriage with the number of your chamber in it, but I fear that the nurse will take him elsewhere."
-"That is very unlikely. I will ask the nurse to save us from such a possibility."
-"I will go see it and get back to you afterwards."

She began to feel the pain in fall force. Her open belly wound was violently smarting. But she decided to forebear. She remembered a story about a Muslim man: The Doctor decided to cut his leg, suggesting that he should drink some Alcohol so that he would lose consciousness to avoid feeling the pain but the man refused saying: "I would not survive the pain by angering God." He forbore the agony of the operation without saying a word.
And the words of Doctor Salam rung in her ear: "You will feel terrible pain all night. But it will disappear in the morning. The medication we have given will become effective then."
And she felt a bright dawn coming in the horizon. She remembered Shelly's words in the poem "Prometheus Unbound:" "The ages of my pain will be limitless, but they will end."
And then she remembered her baby: "On thursday, On thursday morning I will meet him. It is a randez vous with my love and I will meet him for the first time."
She felt her pain ameliorate and she closed her eyes. Thank God for giving her the baby, for giving her the pain. Thank God for giving the father and life. I smile and face the gloomy birds of pain, for the dawn is nearing. The dawn is coming.
March. 1973