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zaher omareen
you know? Their dad, on
the other hand, wel l he
was shor t, swar thy, with
a big square head, and as
stubborn as a mule. But the
girls, my God, they took
af ter their mum. Blue eyes,
blond hair, lovely f igures.
Of course in those days,
though, a man who didn’t
have a son was considered
not to have any children at
all! Everyone shamed poor
old Salamu about it, and
called him Abu Daughters.
Anyway, time passed and
eventual ly Salamu’s wi fe
got pregnant again.
–Yeah, and I bet she had
another girl, right?
–Hang on, let me tell you
the whole story . . . So yeah,
as I was saying, when she
realised she was pregnant
again our neighbour Om
Raouf went round and
examined her, because
there weren’t any doctors to
examine pregnant women
then.
–Why not?
–Now’s not the time to
go into that, let ’s stick to
f inishing the story . . . So
the point is that Om Raouf
examined Salamu’s wi fe,
and then addressed her as
Om Salah – as if she was
already the mother of a boy
called Salah – and said ‘I can
feel it in my waters: your
son Salah al-Deen is f inally
on his way.’ Om Raouf was
a rel igious woman, and
very intelligent, and she’d
del ivered al l the babies
in the neighbourhood –
she knew what she was
talking about. So the newly
crowned Om Salah tore of f
to f ind her husband and
waste no time in bringing