Sunday, August 30, 2009

How much do you love me? (4)

Some roses, a piece of cake … mom put your Hayek and let’s go to ask
For the hand of the girl that never goes out from her house.
The door opened, her mom was there waiting with a large smile.

She is finally going to have a peaceful life after accepting to give the hand of her daughter because as Arabs say: worries about girls are till death.
She kept the windows opened so that the neighbors know that her daughter is putting the ring today.

In the living room, the father is waiting there. Tables full of all sort of sweets are put.
They all sit together and start the courtesy that doesn’t come from the heart.
The same meaningless questions are being asked and many elements are added to the answer.

It is obvious she had to do that to put all the chances from her daughter’s side.
Does she wear a scarf?
Yea of course, an extremist one and she never go out without me.
Does she cook?
Of course and I taught her everything about all the traditional meals of our country.
My daughter, with thanks to God, has every finger with a different activity that she can do perfectly.
Can we see her?
Of course, Daughter come and bring the coffee.

In an elegant house dress, walking slowly and carefully looking at the floor and using an excess of make up to maker her cheeks red, she enters and propose the coffee to all of them.
Her mom with an ironic voice tells her: don’t be that shy! They are your new family starting by now, while his mother will just make a quick perfect scan from the face to the feet.
She finishes with a common sentence: God bless you! I was feeling confident about my choice.

Remember well this sentence because some weeks after the weeding, she will just start to take her from her long beautiful hair for silly reasons such as cleaning, putting the table, watching tv, or not washing the clothes till the end of the week.

In her mind: he has money, no matter how old, what profession he has, or what are his plans for the future, I will marry him, so that everyone knows that I am nice and superb and they are asking for my hand. And… as my mom says: a man is a man, nothing can affect him, but for us “girls” at a certain age, it is just too late to think of it.

In his mind: I dated a lot, from girls I am just fed up. She is young and good cook, she didn’t go to college. This is just too good, as Arabs say: the cat still have closed eyes.

The main discussion starts and both have to fix what they want.
Her mother: a house for my daughter alone.
His mother: she doesn’t work and stays home, money doesn’t matter as long as she will be a good house wife and a perfect mother.
Shaking the hands is the next step after reading “the Fatiha” to make of them religiously: wife and husband.

The phone numbers are exchanged to know days, weeks, or months before getting married, who is this person that we by hazard decided to build our life with
And that’s how they getting married…….

Finally, I wouldn’t tire myself looking for a reason to make the Arabs stop asking just for the hand and start to ask for the body as a whole with the mind, the fingers and the soul.

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