She nodded. He bent over her forehead to plant a light kiss there, then moved away with tears in his eyes.
Grandfather was looking curiously at what his friend was writing, his lips moving as Grandfather followed along. When the sheikh had finished writing, he began to fold the paper in a unique way, doubling it and then redoubling it upon itself until he had made it into the shape of a small triangle, which he closed by pushing a corner between the opening of the folds. He returned the notebook to the shelf and brought out from there a spool of thread. He drew about half a yard of the thread and inserted it through a corner of the triangle. Then he tied the two ends to make a necklace.
He held it out to Istabraq, saying, “Wear this around your neck always, day and night. Do not take it off, except when you are bathing.”
While I was helping Istabraq hang the paper necklace around her neck, I heard Grandfather say, “We have a sick cow. Write her a spell too, O sheikh!”
Turning back to get the notebook from behind him, the sheikh said, “At your service! It would be an honor. What’s wrong with her?”
Grandfather began describing for him the symptoms of our red cow’s illness. After making the cow’s necklace, he gave it to Grandfather and said, “May our Lord restore her health!”
After we finished sipping our glasses of tea, the sheikh approached Istabraq. He used his fingers to pull open her eyelids. Staring into her eyes, he said, “There are two small steps left and everything will be finished. Afterward, you’ll be a bride as good as new.” He yelled toward the far door, “Gulala!”
The butterfly girl approached. He spoke to her in Kurdish. She bent over my sister, and we understood that he wanted Istabraq to be carried to the middle of the square sitting area. So my father and I got up and laid her out on the carpet in the middle. The sheikh went around her, and Gulala arranged Istabraq’s dress so that it would cover her nicely. Then she took hold of Istabraq’s feet while the sheikh began stretching out her arms along the floor, parallel to her head. He took the fingers of her hands and made them touch each other, calling out to us, “Come over here! See how they are not equal. That’s naturaclass="underline" a person is like a car and needs a tune-up from time to time.”
The sheikh was both graceful and spry in his movements. Sitting at her head, he stretched out his legs and rested his feet against her shoulders. Then he began pulling hard on Istabraq’s arms while comparing her index fingers. Meanwhile, his butterfly girl kept her firm grip on Istabraq’s feet. He pulled her more than once, and each time Istabraq closed her eyes but didn’t groan.
Then the sheikh called, “Come and look! See how they are equal now. I will adjust you all, for all of us carry minor illnesses. These don’t hurt us, but they do add up. Come, my boy!”
He called me over after we had returned Istabraq to the bed, and I stretched myself out in her place on the carpet in the middle. I reached out my arms, and he called to the others, “Look!”
Meanwhile, I was conscious of the butterfly girl’s touch on my feet. What was the flavor of her white palms? Her tea had been delicious. The sheikh tugged forcefully on my right arm. He repeated that three times and said, “Finished!”
I sat upright and found myself face-to-face with the girl, who hadn’t taken her hands off my feet. “Thank you,” I whispered to her. She smiled.
I got up, and Grandfather lay down immediately in my place. The sheikh’s attitude made us like kids playing happily. When it was Father’s turn, all of us, including Istabraq, laughed to see his huge body and his belly, which lifted his robe in the middle like a tent. I sat right up next to the girl, holding one foot while she held the other. I could smell even more clearly the plant extract perfume that emanated from her.
Grandfather asked his friend, “And how will you pull someone like him?”
The sheikh answered with confidence, “I’ve pulled some who are fatter than him.” When he compared his index fingers, he said, “See how his body is the most balanced of you all. His fingers are nearly equal. He must work a lot. Work is health!”
When we returned to our places, the sheikh directed some words to his daughter. She brought him a small pouch, then headed to the door leading outside and called for the children, who came running. In the meantime, she gathered the empty glasses of tea and went out. The little ones stood before the sheikh in a line. When each child got to the front of the line, he would turn his back to the sheikh, who looked behind his ears. Then the sheikh would bring the child’s neck close to Istabraq’s eyes, saying, “Look. I’ve made an incision in the ears of each of them. It’s a simple thing. It doesn’t hurt, apart from a prick that you’ll barely feel. If the wound of any of them were fully healed, I’d cut the ear again in front of you.”
Each child went off at a run after showing himself to the surgeon. It seemed that they were used to doing this.
Gulala returned, carrying a copper washbasin and a pitcher of water. She set them down it the middle. Next, she went over to Istabraq and made her sit down. She pulled off Istabraq’s shawl and gathered her hair up. She took out Istabraq’s silver earrings: crescent moons with a star in the middle, from which other small moons hung down, each of which had a different colored bead in the middle. She examined them, then put them into Istabraq’s palm, which was lying in her lap.
The sheikh advised, “Don’t lose them while the wound is healing.”
He approached her from behind while taking a shaving razor out of his pouch. My heart trembled, and I hoped that Istabraq wouldn’t see the razor. She didn’t, just as the sheikh intended.
He reached out with the fingers of one hand to fold her ear down. Then he extended the razor blade and made an incision behind the ear, light and quick. He quickly did the same thing with the other ear. At the moment of each cut, Istabraq closed her eyes and only a small squeak came out of her mouth. The sheikh brought his pouch up to her head. Taking a little of the yellow powder inside between his fingertips, he used it to stop up the cuts he had made. Then he took out a matchstick, which he moistened with his tongue and stuck into the pouch. He began applying the powder to Istabraq’s eyelids and left them closed when he was done. Then he brought the open packet close to her nose and commanded, “Inhale! Inhale deeply!”
Afterward, he tied up the pouch and put it aside. Gulala turned around to bring the washbasin close to Istabraq’s chest. The sheikh said, “There! It’s all over. Wash your face and blow your nose. Blow your nose.”
Then he returned to his former seat next to Grandfather, explaining the procedure he had performed. “This is for the treatment of Yellowing Disease. I opened her arteries and put in dabagh, a powder from the dried rinds of pomegranates mixed with the powder of seeds from the Glowing Tree. This is a plant found only on the peaks of the Hasarost Mountains. The fruit it bears are small bells that are heavy with little seeds. Each bell has its own color which gives off light at night. There are seven seeds in each bell, and I pay one lamb per bell to those who go up the mountain. It’s a rare tree. Getting there and finding it is an arduous adventure. Yes, its colored bells give off light, like the Christmas trees that Christians have.”
Grandfather asked, “And what are those?”
Father volunteered an explanation without looking in Grandfather’s eyes, “I’ve seen them at the homes of my German friends when they are celebrating the last night of the year. It’s a tree that they hang colored lights on, as well as paper bells and other things. Gifts and colored socks.”
The session calmed down after that. Istabraq’s face appeared optimistic and comfortable. We all listened intently to the conversation of the two sheikhs while the aroma of food came to us from a door left ajar. Sheikh Abd al-Shafi spoke at length about the multitude of patients who came to him from all parts of Iraq, as well as from Iran, Turkey, Kuwait, Saudi Arabia, Jordan, and the Syrian deserts. He would treat them and offer them hospitality as his guests, some of them for a couple days, and he wouldn’t take anything from them in exchange because, as he said, “this is a gift from God, and he is my reward for it.”