the story : ….
The story of Rashad Abu Shawar – Jordan…
When he saw his uncle’s woman coming from the beginning of the street, he turned his back and walked with her silently to the al-Mutawali oven. The plate of the strange dish slipped off her head when she bent. She offered peace, and sighed, as she picked up the plate of straw and covered the large bowl of dough, and fixed her back to the wall under the window, and passed her gaze over the women seated not far apart, waiting for her turn to cut her dough and bread.
Give you health, Abu Salem…
Abu Salem stopped shaking his body with the wooden arm on which he was stacking the loaves of dough, as he pushed the long arm into the wood-burning oven:
Welcome, Umm Ahmed.
He blew and wiped with a large towel his forehead and neck, and most of his body was hidden in the pit in front of the fire house:
– Here I am in the fire, Umm Ahmad.. Let’s serve people.
More than one voice rose: May God give you wellness, Abu Salem.
He shakes and twists his body:
We want to serve, and the important thing is to please God and His servants…
Rashad stood with his uncle’s wife, leaning his back against the wall, sticking his head through the window, then bored, and went out with the loud clamor of the boys he had left playing with a little while ago, and merged with them in their clamor around a ball made of torn old clothes.
After stacking the loaves on her plate, a woman got up, divided a loaf, and stood with her eyes:
Girls: Where did the shady boy go? I want to give him half a loaf of bread for the soul of my dead…
Umm Ahmed rose up:
Don’t you know who the boy is…
She kept the word in her mouth before she set out, and the woman extended her face:
– No, I don’t know him, Umm Ahmed…
– The boy Rashad, you do not know the boy Rashad and that his father is imprisoned.. he is imprisoned oh.. he was not imprisoned because he is a thief.. God forbid, but he is a hero.. oh…
Abu Salem said, trying to extinguish the fire of anger
– Sanctity, Umm Ahmed, her intention is good, not God forbid…
She raised her voice, bending over her tray and straightening the loaves, returning half the loaf:
By God, I do not know the boy. I saw his vessels torn, and he was standing looking forward to the bread… What do I say? So I said, the boy is hungry, oh love of my eyes.
I noticed the boy’s voice, sticking his head out of the window:
– I’m not Shehad, I’m with my aunt Maliha..and..my stomach is full, thank God.
He drummed his stomach, which was almost sticking to his back, rubbed his bare feet together, then turned and lunged again with the players with the ball of ribbons that followed with the boys’ blows.
He saw her stepping out of the oven door with slow steps, looking for him with her eyes. She stopped and turned her hand and picked up half of the loaf from the plate and gave it to him. He ate it quickly. She smiled, and looked under the plate and the plate and the bread piled on top of it, as if she were lending him: You see that you are hungry. He looked around, and when he saw a loose dog, he whistled at him and threw half of the loaf at him and turned towards her, and stared angrily at her, and pulled his torso, blowing his skinny chest, as he rubbed his feet that were covered with dust, so she moved away while shaking her head, and her angry voice behind her: I did not find the bite and himself saw.. Like his imprisoned father!
*One of the unhappy childhood stories of the child Rashad
Rashad Abushawar – Voice of the Bride – Arab Voice
the story : ….