What's the deal with the Samouna case?
The Diwaniya had been quiet since morning. The dallah was on the fire, and the elder sat in his usual spot, washing the finjans by hand, glancing at the door from time to time. Then he said, “O Quart, where is the money? It’s your turn to pay. Since morning, my stomach birds have been playing ‘fransi’ from hunger, and not one of you has moved?”
The disabled man gestured toward the expert sitting among them. As soon as the expert spotted him, he said, “Breakfast, A, O Hajj? I’m fasting just to survive, worrying about my daily bread?”
Suddenly, the group transformed into an operatic chorus, saying in unison, “Abba.”
The elder laughed and said, “And what about us? Are we not also surviving on the same fasting and staying silent?”
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The expert sat contemplating the washed finjan and said, “I’m the wretched one... I’m the exhausted one... I want to help others but I can’t find the means... Abba.”
The young man said, “Tell it, Wael Fasha. You’re not describing your suffering; you’re explaining why you don’t want to bring the money.”
The expert replied, “Life has played tricks on me, uncle... Abba.”
The disabled man said, “Life has played tricks on you. Yesterday, it ate me with the shirt that was your turn to wear. Where’s breakfast? Did you go to the association and get cheese and eggs, toast, and falafel?”
The expert pointed to his soul and said, “I’m always the victim.”
The elder retorted, “Don’t be the victim of the House of Honor only when it’s time. Have we been waiting since morning for your sandwiches?”
The expert said, “Life told me: ‘Take where it hurts you’... and the fire intensified against me... Abba.”
The young man said, “I swear by my clothes if life really said that to you, or did you just hear us talking about the money and imagine the call to prayer reached you?”
The people of the Diwaniya burst out laughing. The expert sighed and said, “Wounded... and my wounds have no cure... Abba.”
The man said, “The plaster is available, but get up and bring us the share.”
The expert said, “My heart is burned by injustice... Abba.”
The elder said, “Let it burn, but don’t burn the eggs with it.”
The expert said, “And my back, from so much suffering, broke and bent.”
The man replied, “Your back didn’t break; it bent from all your attempts to evade paying the money bill.”
Everyone erupted in laughter.
The expert said, “I’m the one who has healed many wounds... Abba.”
The elder said, “Good. Today, heal our chemical hunger. I wish someone would hear us and shorten hospital waiting times.”
The expert said, “And I was wronged, so I said, ‘Forgive’... Abba.”
The young man said, “We forgave you, but don’t forgive yourself and return without the money.”
The expert said, “I do good and return... only to find evil every morning!.. Abba!”
The disabled man said, “Yes... and it’s good that you go to the restaurant and return to us with all the goodness.”
The expert fell silent for a moment, then said, “Ba, since there’s no point, alright... Do you want to overflow A? Abba.”
The disabled man’s voice came from the far end of the Diwaniya: “Bring fava beans and eggs, cheese, and lots of pickles. If you have leftover cornichons, bring us juice. And ask them if they raised their prices; otherwise, it’s the trend in the market.”
The expert said, “By God, I only want security... Abba.”
The elder replied, “O eye of your mother, come to your uncle’s embrace and cry until your teeth are loosened by security... but bring the money... bring it.”
The expert stood up, muttering, “Life is harsh on me... Abba.”
The young man said, “No, sir, life is not harsh on you. We are a group of hungry people starving to death.”
The expert left the Diwaniya saying, “I’m fasting just to survive.”
The elder called out to him, “Abba... Fast, my son... but don’t bring your dust. The sandwiches and their bags, because we need them for the students’ books... The school year is at the door.”
From that day on, the people of the Diwaniya had certain knowledge: if the expert’s complaints and groans increased, it meant the money was due.
While the last laugh was still echoing in the Diwaniya, the smooth-talker, joining in their banter, said, “They asked me: What happened to your beautiful dreams and noble goal? I said: The noble one died, and the beautiful one married, and the goal turned out to be a sequence.”
During this, the voice of Sheikh Zaghloul rose with the call to the noon prayer... and the matter of son A’s money ended.
$ Kuwaiti writer
