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zaher omareen
to be more open-minded. His
eldest daughter, especially,
was really really pleading with
him, and crying, but he just
said, ‘Let her die before she
gets looked at by a bloke!’
Anyway, in the end your
granny went in and had a
word with Abu Ahmed. She
opened the door just a foot
or so and talked to him from
behind it, to preserve her
dignity. She said to him ‘I’ll go
with you, to help the doctor,
and I’ll get him to become a
blood brother to her before
he delivers the child, so that
it’s all halal and nothing haram
happens.’
In those days, you see, blood
kinship could be forged
between two people: they
would each make a little cut in
one of their thumbs, and then
they’d press them together
and sort of rub them a bit,
so the blood mixed together,
and then each of them would
lick it off their thumb – and
after that they would be
considered blood kin, and so
they wouldn’t be permissible
partners for each other
anymore and wouldn’t need
to be covered up. Basically
it’s a silly old-school custom,
a superstitious thing people
used to do.
–Right, so then what
happened?
– Dr Mukhtar arrived, sleepy-
eyed, straight from his bed,
wearing his white jellabiya.
As soon as he walked in your
grandad took him aside and
said to him ‘Doctor, just say
yes to whatever Abu Ahmed
asks you – we don’t want any
trouble – that woman’s life’s
in danger.’ Well, the doctor
had this expression he always
used about people, ‘He’s a