As they make their way up the stairs, I send the kids to the back of the house, away from the formal sitting room, away from the regular sitting room. The girls help my wife as she makes tea and puts cakes on a tray and Salwan lingers out on the balcony to see if any of his friends are outside. The afternoon is filled with talk and shouts and calls for more tea and more food and Um Salwan putting everything outside the door, then knocking and going back to the kitchen before the door opens, before any eyes can see her.

And then quiet, not even street noises sneaking in. Um Salwan is sound asleep in the bedroom and Salwan and Saara and Huda are awake as can be.

“Let’s see if they are sleeping,” Salwan says.

“But what if they aren’t?” says Huda.

“I’ll go first,” he volunteers.

They sneak down the hall, Salwan in front, their feet bare on the cool tile floor. Sneak, sneak, Salwan pushes open the door slowly slowly and then looks in before turning back to Saara and Huda, and soon three faces are peering at me as I sit in the corner reading the Quran. My guests are asleep: on either side of the room is a figure, each man covered from head to toe in his black robe.

“Do you think they are dead?” Saara asks, and I wave her away so as not to wake anyone up.

What followed, I learned later.

“Do you want to go outside and play?” Saara says to Huda and Salwan, and their feet take them back down the cool hallway.

The three are bored as they go through the formal sitting room on their way to the large patio to play underneath the grape vines. Salwan stops as his eyes catch hold of something on the small mother-of-pearl table: two leather belts with holsters, each one with a gun and a knife.

“Don’t touch them,” Huda says.

“But those men are asleep.”

“They might wake up, and besides, you are too young to be touching guns.”

“They won’t wake up for a while, and besides, I know how to use a gun,” argues Salwan and carefully picks up one of the heavy belts and wraps it around his waist. He is so thin that it goes around twice. Saara looks scared, but she puts on the other belt. My two children go back to the hallway and stand in front of the large mirror, admiring themselves.