Trafika Europe 6 - Arabesque

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

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