We reach the shore and I see a small cluster of people waiting for us. Latifa is standing next to my father and both of them have their hands on their hips. Even from this distance I can see that she is happy, perhaps excited that I am about to get into trouble. My mother is standing at the shoreline, the waves covering her feet and some of her dress. She is wringing her hands and yelling, but we are still too far away to hear what she is saying.

Before the soldiers even pull the dolphin up on the beach, my mother is in the water with her shouts for me and for Sharif. My father has walked away and left Latifa to watch. My mother grabs me and kisses me with so much strength and anger that I think she would rather hit me. “Thank God you are safe. Thank God you are alive,” she says in my ear over and over.

She puts me down and turns to Sharif with the loudest, angriest voice I have ever heard her use. “What in God’s name are you doing with such a baby in such deep waters? She cannot swim. She could have drowned. You are a man and this is the kind of thing you do to your baby cousin!” It goes on and on and I don’t even notice when the soldiers leave. Sharif hangs his head, except when my mother yanks at his ear or slaps his arm.

“Where did you think you were going? Why did you just go off into the middle of the sea like that without telling anyone?”

Sharif doesn’t look at anything but his feet. I can’t understand why he doesn’t speak, why he doesn’t explain.

My mother is still yelling and other people on the beach are watching us. Finally, I can’t stand her words and his silence. “We tried to go home!” I shout.

They both stare at me. My mother is silent and then starts scolding Sharif again, but I see it is softer and she is no longer yanking at his ear or slapping him. We walk up the beach and she picks me up and hugs me, gently this time, and even though she is still cursing him, I know that all of the anger has washed out of her.

That is the sweet picture in my mind as I drift off to sleep, surrounded by my mother’s presence.

21 HALA Visiting

21HALAVisiting

Early the next morning as I lie in bed listening to the morning sounds, I hear a car and then Sharif’s voice calling, “As-salaamu alaykum” and I feel my heart speed up. I go to the window and see him, sitting with my father on the chairs that face the white wall. I force myself to take my time getting out of bed, trying to ignore the sweaty nervousness that is creeping underneath my skin.