I had grown accustomed to Um Buraq’s crazy driving over the past months, but Mama and Sitti Wasfiyeh were bracing themselves. Um Buraq seemed puzzled. Jehad smiled, almost laughing, and that made me so happy I laughed too. I couldn’t stop, which made Mama laugh. Sitti Wasfiyeh was delighted to have provoked it all. “I’ve always been funny, even when I was a little girl. I could make people laugh like this,” she said. And that turned Jehad’s smile into laughter too. Even Um Buraq was laughing, all of us inside her banged-up Lincoln Continental at the head of a four-car caravan on an eerily quiet road, heading away from a deserted Palestinian city inside Kuwait.

“This country will never be the same without Palestinians. Look at all these empty buildings,” Um Buraq said when we all quieted down.

Mama began sobbing in the backseat. Sitti Wasfiyeh chimed in, cursing Israelis and Yasser Arafat. She raised her hands in prayer. “O God, my Lord, destroy the Jews for making us endless refugees and condemn Yasser Arafat for causing another Palestinian exodus. O my Lord, burn the Americans and burn the Jews. They are behind all these wars.”

“Amen,” Mama said.

Jehad remained silent, watching the world speed by his window.

We were stopped at two checkpoints along the way, but thanks to Um Buraq we passed without incident. She showed her ID, clearly listing her as Kuwaiti, and lied that we, along with the caravan behind us, were Palestinians who had sheltered and saved her entire family during the occupation. She spoke to them with the authority of a public auntie, and they responded with due deference to an elder, waving us all through after checking our IDs.

“Um Buraq, I don’t think we could have gotten through these checkpoints without more humiliation if it hadn’t been for you. May God bless you, keep evil away from you, and bring brightness and joy to all your days,” Mama said.

Sitti Wasfiyeh joined in with prayer and appreciation for Um Buraq. I listened to Jehad’s silence. He was somewhere else.

Um Buraq took me in a warm embrace at the airport before we left. She kissed both my cheeks several times, wished me God-speed, and whispered in my ear, “I’ll send customers your way if you need money. Just let me know. And you can probably use that card in Amman. Give it a try. God be with you, Sister.”

I kissed her again, and when we pulled back, she cupped my face in her palms and said:

“Whatever happens in this ungenerous world, we will meet again, my sister.”

III. Jordan

III.

JORDAN

The Cube, North

THE CUBE, NORTH