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tales of orontes river
You might be lucky.’
Salamu said, ‘I ’ve knocked
on ever y door in the
neighbourhood already, to
be honest – so I ’m gonna
tr y the Sal im fami ly in
Hamadia: they’ve got a big
orchard over there, maybe
they’ve still got a few dried
pomegranates lef t.’
Your granny threw her hands
up in horror and said to him,
‘Oh lord, Salamu, have you
lost your mind, love? All this
bombing and killing going
on, and you’re heading over
there? What on Ear th are
you doing?’ Right at that
moment we saw a frantic
Om Salah come f lying out
of thei r house, running
towards her husband,
puf f ing and panting and
heaving her huge bel ly
along, and yelling at him as
she went ‘In the name of
God, I ’m begging you not
to go, for the hundredth
time! I rue the wretched
day I got pregnant! God
strike me down if I let you
go – I promise you, I don’t
even fancy a pomegranate
anymore, as God is my
witness I ’ve lost my appetite
for them, I swear!’
I tell you son, to this day I
can hear him answer her:
‘Don’t you bloody lie to me
– I ’ve been watching you,
all week you’ve been sif ting
through the rubbish for old
bits of pomegranate peel
and snif f ing it – and then
this morning I found a bit
under our bed!’ Your uncles
heard the uproar from the
inside the house, so they
came out into the street
and got hold of Salamu,
to take him home. But he
really dug his heels in. All
he could think about were