Bin Laden's Woman, Page 2

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!

  George - 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.

  Marilia

  Sammy 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.

  Naffahs’ terrace was a privilege.

  Septemb
er 7th, 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.

  She 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. Verry imborrtant 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 brincess, she must marrry a brince.

  George 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, verrry powerful.

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

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