Bin Laden's Woman (2 page)

The G
irls

Samira
was already used to local habits, but
that couldn’t be applied to her daughters, that was another story!
There was no other way; they were under control all the
time.

When they completed fifteen years old, the
city's social columnist looked for the Naffahs.

- My dear, my debut party cannot
happen without your daughters. They are the most beautiful girls
in
Tupã
.

- Really? What a marvel! - George
exclaims.

Samira, who didn’t like the type very
much, adds diplomatically:

- We admire your work, but I'm afraid that
is above our means. You understand, don’t you?

- Absolutely, ma'am, but we don’t charge
anything for it, it's all for the party, their presence will be the
‘masterpiece’ at our ball!

- See, Samira? – George gets
excited.

Samira, who is not easy to be persuaded,
retorts.

- I’m sure there will be expenses, what
would they be?

- Just a little detail. Naturally, the
girls will be photographed by our studio; the pictures need to be
published in the newspaper. We would then have a small expense with
the photos, the clichés, you understand, of course.

The
wise woman smells the setup. She ends
the conversation.

- Would you like another kebab?
A little dried yogurt? No? Alright. I’ll talk to my husband and
then call you if the girls are interested. I'll wrap some
baklava
(puff pastry with
honey and nuts), I know your mother loves it. Thank you for the
note in your column last week, it’s very important to us. Don’t
forget us. Come to see us more often. Next week, we’ll have that
dried yogurt and chicory
esfiha
you like so much, you’ll be our guest.

When he leaves, she tells her
husband.

- Georgie, for the love of God, we still
have so many problems with these girls in the house, imagine them
in a store window!

Ge
orge - as he has been doing in the past
few years - is silent and sad. In the good old days, Sammy would
have been the prettiest and best dressed debutante in the most
elegant club in Damascus. He would have been the proudest father in
the world, instead, he was there, selling
kibbes
-
Hara
!

Carol was a bit upset, blonde and
beautiful, she could see herself in that white dress, hosted by a
TV artist, dancing with one of the princes.

Sammy
didn’t give a damn. She was upset
with the frustration of her father. Her mother wouldn’t let him do
anything he wanted.

As time went on, the two girls were
increasingly different, Carol got curves, became feminine, the boys
fantasized about her, she liked wearing dresses, makeup, spent
hours at the mirror.

Sammy
also got curves, in a different way.
She was tall, slim, small breasts. Always wearing a white shirt and
a long oriental patterned skirt. Her curly and shiny hair, almost
at her waist, was tied above her ears. She had a beauty spot over
the right corner of her mouth. The spot darkened when she was
angry

Carol fell madly in love. In this family,
no dates, no chances, nothing at all, only getting married, and
that's what happened.

Samira’s thoughts were
hammering in her
head, she was against that marriage, it was too soon. Whatever! The
boy was also in love, nice guy, good family. Carol’s godmother
liked the idea. At the end, you know? Better this way – thought
Samira, the blonde wouldn’t last too much in the middle of that
wolf pack.

The German priest loved those girls, he
extended the red carpet from the church to the Naffahs’
door.

Even in ours days, if you go
to
Tupã
you will be introduced to the couple; him, a rancher, and
her, beautiful and polite. Then, you’ll have to listen about their
children and their perfect marriage. The bride who was the fairest
of them all. The wonderful dishes that were served. How the party
went into the morning hours, that night with a full moon shining on
the Naffahs’ terrace.

It was the first extravaganza in years,
but the marriage of a daughter is really important to an
Arab.

Sammy
left
Tupã
to study computer science in Marilia.

Sam
my was living in an Arab home, some
friends of George’s mother’s cousin’s. It was a big family. They
had also seen better days, but were fine.

Young people, among whom Sammy was
included, were on aunt Nadia. She had no children, so used to take
care of everybody’s kids.

The leash was tight
as usual, but it was
different. Aunt Nadia was strict, but she wasn’t Sammy’s mother.
They could talk. Nadia had received a careful education; as well as
Arabic and Portuguese, she spoke and wrote French and
English.

In the first year, Sammy made friends.
Giardini was the only one, besides her, who was interested in the
lessons. Except for a Japanese girl from Jales, who was also their
friend, the rest of the class had no idea what was
happening.

Giardini had Italian name, but looked like
an Arab, early hair loss above the temples, curly hair and a thin
beard. Chubby. Not flabby, chubby.

- Aunt Nadia – sad Giardini, for
God's sake, I’ll explode, nobody makes
dolmah
better than you. Even my aunts. Oh boy, if
they hear that, I'm dead.

And he has one more, then
another
dolmah
.

- Aunt Nadia! You’ve changed your hair,
don’t try to fool me. New boyfriend! I'm sure.

The old lady’s heart was melted; this boy
knew how to use the words gently. He surely did. He had a mother
and affection, that’s the way people grow up like that!

They were always together, Sammy,
Giardini; the Japanese girl was also there, but apart in her own
thoughts.

No one knew if they were dating or what.

Samira was always looking
further.

She was an Arab; she wanted to get her
father back to the old and glorious time he used to talk
about.

Aunt Nadia liked Giardini, she watched
Sammy’s back. She loved the girl. God hadn’t given her any
children, she had so much to teach, her nephews were so foolish, a
waste of time!

Nadia used to ask Sammy to help her when
preparing the refined dishes she occasionally liked to do. French
cuisine.

She
also encouraged the girl to study
French and improve her English, paid for her classes, she was
delighted delighted with the pupil’s progress.

Sammy
first taught Nadia how to play
solitaire on the computer. Then to read the newspaper, watch the
news. Set up an e-mail to her, a page in a social network. Nadia
loved it all. Soon, she had her own computer. Sammy arranged
everything, of course, but the lady thought she was all that.
Suddenly she had in Marilia the whole world at her feet; she
snubbed and laughed at her friends.

In Marilia, Sammy was Samira –
Mrs. Samira, her mother, was in
Tupã
. She grew up, got sophisticated. The world became
small for her.

The
Cousin

The Arabs are always very
intelligent, but with this craze
thing about to marry their cousins
–
so as not to split the money –sometimes they get a little silly,
beyond the common sense. Sometimes they were doing everything
right; and suddenly they change direction, completely.

George
was there. He had taken his mother's
advice and it worked. I mean, more or less, his wife returned to
slavery, worked from dawn to dusk to support them. His daughter,
studying computers, dating a bearded guy with no future... Thank
God, Carol, who had good sense, was happily married with children,
was fine.

His Samira - that always worked like a
horse - was getting tired, no longer had the same patience with
neighbors, and left everything in Eli’s hands; the kid was good,
but anyway.

Mrs. Samira controlled everything, she was
great in retail but wholesale things were harder to deal with. They
wouldn’t get very far. They were only getting fatter!

In the middle of this, they
hosted Omar, a distant cousin, who had many appointments in Brazil
and was passing by
Tupã
.

What elegance! That was a real Arab,
refinement, manners, gifts, money!

There he was. Omar was prepared for the
worst. Oh God! – he thought – Days in that tropical hell, hayseed
relatives, loads of junk food. Nobody deserves it.

Well,
He was taken by surprise, they
were great, he couldn’t have been better received anywhere
else in the world.

Naffah
s’ terrace was a
privilege.

September 7
^th
, a national holiday, joined with the weekend.
Sammy came to see her parents; Carol left out her parents in-laws
by her adoptive parents, brought her husband and children. What a
happy day.

Eli grew up, already had a girlfriend, he
was the sensation of the night. For an Arab father, the son with a
girl was the glory, a relief.

Sammy
had inaugurated a new relationship
with her mother. She was no longer a girl. She respected Mrs.
Naffah, she was an “institution”, but the girl also had some
news.

Sh
e gave a few tips at dinner, helped as who
really knows stuff; she was more sophisticated,
confident.

Sammy delighted
the cousin, spoke
Arabic, French, and pretended to be Scheherazade in "Arabian
Nights".

The mother's head was working pretty fast.
- Bitch! This girl had sex. And she likes it! - I'll kill
Nadia.

The
Proposal

Time went by. One day,
the
Cousin
suddenly shows up.

- Cousin! We need to talk.
Ve
rr
y
im
borr
tant subject.

- Tell me, cousin - George
responds.

- I came back to Damascus with
an idea in mind; I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Your daughter
is a
b
rincess, she must ma
rrr
y a
b
rince.

Ge
orge seemed to have awakened from a dream,
so many years on this land, he had forgotten the old ways. Of
course, Sammy’s wedding. They had to think about it, it was getting
late, actually. Mrs. Naffah listens from afar and
frowns.

- It's all settled, George.
You’ll be relieved of dowry and still know the gratitude of your
future son-in-law, a wealthy and powerful man,
ve
rrr
y
powerful.

- But tell me, cousin. Who is this
man?

- Trust me, Allah will bless you for all
eternity, your grandchildren will be venerated.

The offer was generous, much more than
they could expect, it came from a close relative… They asked for a
few days to think.

The world turned upside down in Naffahs’
house.

Marriages, for them, were like that, it
has always been. Arranged! The possibility of paying all their
debts and getting back to what they were. The daughter married to a
prince. That became a fixed idea in George’s head. There was no
other subject for them.

Mrs. Samira was divided.

If they w
ere still living in Damascus, it
would be natural. That had happened to her, to her mother, to all
the women in her family.

She hadn’t hit the jackpot herself, but at
last, her marriage worked. Her mother-in-law was right. Mrs. Samira
knew herself, she was a strong woman, she probably wouldn’t have
stood a bossy man. The friendly and kind nature of George fitted
like a glove, he was a friend, respected her opinion, and they had
wonderful children. What more could they expect? The eldest
daughter married to a prince. Rich, powerful, very powerful, said
the cousin.

Sammy
wasn’t easy either, besides the
strong personality, she needed space to grow, wouldn’t hold up at
home taking care of her husband and children. The daughter needed
adventure. And there it was. Getting married to an Arab
prince.

And
more, if they didn’t do anything, she
would end up with that chinstrapped guy.