Radwa Ashour - Granada

“Does the priest need it to thread a needle?”

“He needs it to read all those books that have fine print,” he answered in laughter.

“Where did he buy it?”

“He asked one of the Genoese merchants to buy it for him.”

“Then it’s sold in Genoa?

“I don’t know.”

“Is it expensive?”

“I have no idea.”

“If it’s not too expensive, I’ll ask Hasan to buy one for me. There are lots of merchants from Genoa who pass through Granada. Hand it over and let me try again, Naeem.” Umm Jaafar stretched out her hand and took hold of the delicate gold handle and raised the glass circles to eye level. She looked through them toward all the corners of the room.

“Strange!”

“What’s strange, Umm Jaafar?”

“The things that are far way I can see better without it.”

“I think it’s to see things close up. I see Father Miguel using it only when he’s reading.”

Umm Jaafar called out to one of Hasan s daughters to go and bring her aunt Saleema. “Let’s see what Saleema will do with it when she reads a book.”

Before the little girl reached her aunt’s room, she managed to spread the news of the strange instrument to her mother, grandmother, and sisters. They all came running and surrounded Naeem, looking on with intense curiosity and asking questions all at once, while Naeem refused to let any one of them get close to it or touch it.

“Does this thing let blind people see?” asked one of the children.

Umm Hasan shook her head in relief. “Such a wonderful piece of news I must tell our neighbor who’s lost her sight. Now she’ll be able to see again.” She got up to go out and tell her neighbor the news without even looking at Naeem who was trying to explain that the glasses only magnify small things but do not give sight to the blind.

When Saleema entered the room, she inquired about the instrument, then she picked it up and held it to her eyes. She took it off, and when she started to go to her room and get a book Naeem stopped her. “Bring the book here,” he said. He took the glasses away from her, and she went and came back with a book with small print. She took back the glasses from Naeem and started to read with them. Those small letters that always exhausted her and made her pull the book away from her as she squinted her eyes now seemed so clear to her, and she could read them with astonishing ease.

“Naeem, where did you get this thing?”

“It belongs to the priest.”

“Will you leave it for me just for tonight?”

Naeem jumped up from his seat and grabbed the glasses from Saleema s hands. “That’s impossible,” he answered. “When he asks me about it, what will I say?”

“Since you’ve brought them here, it’s obvious he’s away.”

“He’s away, but he’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Leave it with me, and I’ll give it back to you tomorrow morning.”

Umm Jaafar, Umm Hasan, Maryama, and all the children joined together in trying to convince Naeem to leave the glasses with Saleema, “Just for one night,” they repeated. After going back and forth several times, Naeem finally accepted his fate and gave in, handing the glasses to Saleema repeating over and over again to be extra careful, and he showed her how to hold and use them so they wouldn’t break.

“Tomorrow morning, I’ll be back tomorrow morning to get them.”

Naeem returned the following morning to pick up the glasses, but Saleema had already made up her mind. “What you were afraid would happen, happened,” she told him. “The glasses broke.”

“Broke!” Naeem shouted out this one word and then grew silent. Several moments passed with him not knowing what to say or do. Then he spoke. “How did they break? Let me see them.”

“They fell and smashed into pieces. I was afraid the children would step on the glass, so I threw them away.”

At first he was suspicious, but then he became certain. “You’re a liar, Saleema. You decided to steal the glasses.”

“Hold your tongue, Naeem.”

He was seething in anger. He shouted at Saleema, and she shouted back. They got into a heated argument that neither Umm Jaafar nor Maryama could pacify. Umm Hasan took offense at Naeem’s accusation of theft and took her daughter’s side. As she shouted at Naeem, he shouted at her daughter.

Naeem stormed out of the house, repeating over and over again: “I’m going to complain to your husband and your brother, and God willing they’ll beat you savagely until you tell us where you put the glasses you stole.”

In times of trouble, men’s hearts soften and seek the solace of others, and the long years in which Saad and Hasan shared the same roof only strengthened their friendship as they spent long hours in conversation, more often than not seeing eye to eye on most matters. Hasan treated Saad with kindness and affection, not only because he was his friend and his sister’s husband, but because he had descended upon his grandfather’s house as a guest. And he continued to take care of him well beyond the many years when he was no longer a guest and no one could remember that he was living in a household that wasn’t his own. Even the problems with Saleema only fortified the strong bonds between the two men, especially since Hasan deep down blamed his sister and felt a kind of gratitude toward Saad for not mistreating or divorcing her, and especially for not taking another wife.

So what happened that day when a whispering conversation between the two friends flared up in dispute and ended in a ferocious exchange of words? Umm Jaafar rushed to them as fast as her advanced years allowed to find out what was the matter only to have Hasan snap at her. “I beg you, Grandmother, go away. This is a conversation for men only. Take Maryama, my mother, and the children into the inner courtyard, and leave us alone!”

Even as far away as the inner courtyard, you could tell that what was going on between the two men was a fight although the exact words couldn’t be detected. Umm Hasan said that an evil eye, the same one cast upon Saleema, had struck again. Umm Jaafar nervously muttered, “May God protect us!”

The children went to sleep, and Umm Jaafar, Umm Hasan, and Maryama sought refuge in their beds although none of them could sleep a wink. They wondered what was going on, what possibly could have provoked such an outburst.

In the wee hours of the morning, Saad came into Umm Jaafar’s room and sat down next to her. “I’m going away, Umm Jaafar,” he said.

The thought never occurred to her.

“Going away? Where and why?” she asked.

He was hesitant in responding.

“Are you leaving Granada and leaving us alone to fend for ourselves?”

His eyes welled in tears, and he leaned over, took her hand, and kissed it.

“I’m going to the mountains. I have comrades there who need me. I’m not leaving Granada, nor am I abandoning you. You’re all the family I have. Everything will be fine, my mother.”

He got up and she followed him like his shadow as he went out to bid farewell to Umm Hasan, Maryama and the children, and then to Saleema.

“Saad’s going away, Saleema,” announced Umm Jaafar to her granddaughter.

“I know.”

Saleema seemed upset to her, and she noticed a nervous twitch in her face. But Umm Jaafar mustered enough courage to speak up: “Stay with your wife, Saad. Stay with us even if Hasan has offended you. He was wrong to do so.” As she said this, she went up to him and kissed him on the top of his head as a gesture of conciliation.

“Say something, Saleema.”

“I already told him.”

“Told him what?”

“I told him to stay, and that he can come and go as he pleases. I told him this is my house and Hasan’s house, and that it was his house as well. I told him to stay and do whatever he wants.”