Tuesday, August 23

All those women













A large green tent has been erected next to the delapidated building in which she used to live. Black plastic chairs were brought in from the near by mosque .
A CD player plays a loop of a praying voice, soft, gentle.

The men sit in the tent outside, the women in the cramped room inside the building, where it is hot and stiffling.
Some cry, some play with the little children on their laps.
Coffee goes around, bitter, concentrated, in small cups.
Bottles of water and plastic cups on the table.

A large wedding photograph of her grandson on the wall, next to a framed sentence from the Koran, gold on a green background.

It's hot but the fans don't work, the electricity was shut off several months ago, as she couldn't afford to pay the bills. The bottled water is brought in by the neighbors. The municipality cut off the water supply as well.

Aisha, the youngest and not yet married daughter sits on the floor and cries. Quiet sobs.
Asma, 5 years old granddaughter, plays with a doll on the bed. The mattress has been removed.

Zainab died last night.

2 comments:

Nikki said...

I hope you continue to write.

TRES CEE said...

if u talk with her his mine love, u make me smile, so much, cee u are un sueno magnicifichando amen, te amo moltoes hoes, and le plume tute nel mundo per ticklando te e tutte le toes n hose n je'taime mons tuoi tutte, amen, mons plus amen, cara e belle e dolce e preciosamolto amen, poui bracciate ahore sin restraint amen,