Ahmad: "Baa… baa… baa."
Abd al-Muni'm: "Fetch a ladder so we can climb up it."
Umm Hanafi: "May God preserve us. The boy takes after his uncle. Play on the ground, not in the sky."
Ridvvan: "At our house we have pots of carnations and of red and white roses on the balcony and in the men's reception room."
Uthman: "We have two sheep and some chickens."
Ahmad: "Baa… baa… baa."
Abd al-Muni'm: "I'm going to religious kindergarten. What about all of you?"
Ridwan: "I've memorized 'Praise to God
Abd al-Muni'm: "Praise to God for lamps and meatballs."
Ridwan: "For shame! You're a heathen."
Abd al-Muni'm: "That's what the teacher's assistant chants when he's walking in the street."
Na'ima: "We've told you a thousand times not to repeat it."
Turning to Ridwan, Abd al-Muni'm asked, "Why don't you live with Uncle Yasin, your father?"
Ridwan: "I'm with Mama."
Ahmad: "Where's Mama?"
Ridwan: "With my other grandfather."
Uthman: "Where's your other grandfather?"
Ridwan: "In al-Gamaliya… in a big house with a special reception room for men only."
Abd al-Muni'm: "Why does your mother live in one house and your father in another?"
Ridwan: "Mama's with my grandfather there and Papa's with my grandfather here."
Uthman: "Why aren't they in one house like my papa and mama?"
Ridwan: "Fate and destiny. That's what my other grandmother says."
Umm Hanafi: "You've pestered him until he's confessed. There's no power or might save God's. Have mercy on him and go play."
Ahmad: "The water buffalo knows how to talk."
Muhammad: "Get down so I can ride on you."
Ridwan: "Look at the sparrow on the hyacinth vine."
Abd al-Muni'm: "Fetch a ladder so I can grab it."
Ahmad: "Don't raise your voice. It's looking at us and hears every word you say."
Na'ima: "How beautiful she is! I know her! She's the sparrow I saw yesterday on our clothesline."
Ahmad: "The other one was on Sugar Street. How could it find its way to my grandfather's house?"
Abd al-Muni'm: "You donkey. The sparrow can fly here from Sugar Street and return before nightfall."
Uthman: "Her family is there, but she has relativeshere."
Muhammad: "Get down so I can ride you. Otherwise I'll cry till Mama hears me."
Na'ima: "Why don't we play hopscotch?"
Abd al-Muni'm: "No, let's have a race."
Umm Hanafi: "Without any quarreling between the winner and the loser."
Abd al-Muni'm: "Shut up, water buffalo."
Uthman: "Moo … moo."
Ahmad: "Baa… baa."
Muhammad: "I'll ride in this race. Get down so I can ride you."
Abd al-Muni'm: "One, two, three …"
Al-Sayyid Ahmad Abd al-Jawad welcomed the guests, for whom he had set aside the whole first part of the day. He took his place in the center at the banquet, surrounded by Ibrahim Shawkat, Khalil Shawkat, Yasin, and Kamal. After the meal, he invited the two guests to his bedroom, where they conversed in an atmosphere of affection and friendship, marked by a certain reserve on the host's part and a special politeness on the part of his sons-in-law, stemming from the etiquette the father observed in his relations with his family, even those who did not reside with him, despite the fact that al-Sayyid Ahmad and Ibrahim Shawkat, Khadija's spouse, were of nearly the same age.
The c hildren were invited to their grandfather's room to kiss his hand and receive precious gifts of chocolate and Turkish delight. They presented themselves in order of seniority: Aisha's daughter Na'ima first, then Yasin's son Ridwan, followed by Khadija's son Abd al-Muni'm, Aisha's son Uthman, Khadija's son Ahmad, and Aisha's son Muhammad. Al-Sayyid Ahmad observed strict impartiality in distributing affection and smiles to his grandchildren but took advantage of the absence of observers, except for Ibrahim and Khalil, to relax his customary reserve. He shook the little hands warmly, pinched their rosy cheeks affectionately, and kissed their brows, while teasing this one and joking with that one. He was always careful not to show favoritism, even with Ridwan, whom he loved best.
When alone with one of them he would examine the child with passionate interest, motivated by paternal feelings and additional ones like curiosity. He took great pleasure in tracing the features of grandparents and parents in the boisterous new generation, who had scarcely learned to respect him, let alone fear him. He was captivated by the beauty of Na'ima, who with her golden hair and blue eyes surpassed even her mother's good looks. She graced the family with her beautiful features, some inherited from her mother and others from the Shawkat family. Her brothers Uthman and Muhammad were also handsome but looked more like their father, Khalil Shawkat. They clearly had his large, protruding eyes with the calm, languid look.
By way of contrast, Khadija's sons Abd al-Muni'm and Ahmad had their mother's and maternal grandmother's beautiful small eyes, although they shared the Shawkat complexion. Their noses were exceptionally similar to their mother's or, to be more precise, their rmternal grandfather's.
Ridwan could not help but be handsome. His eyes were identical to his father's and therefore like the black, kohl-enhanced ones of Haniya, Yasin's mother. He had the ivory complexion of his mother's family, the Iffats, and his father's straight nose. Indeed, a captivating grace shone in his face.
It had been a long time since al-Sayyid Ahmad's children had been able to cling to him the way his grandchildren did now, without fear on their part or reserve on his. Oh, what days they had been! What memories! Yasin, Khadija… and Fahmy, then Aisha and Kamal. He had tickled every one of them under the arms and carried each on his shoulders. Would they remember that? He himself had almost forgotten.
Na'ima, her bright smile notwithstanding, seemed shy and polite. Ahmad would not stop asking for more chocolates and Turkish delight. Uthman stood waiting impatiently for the response to Ahmad's request. Muhammad rushed to the gold watch and the diamond ring inside the fez and grabbed hold of them. Khalil Shawkat had to use force to pry them from his grip. Al-Sayyid Ahmad spent a few moments beset by confusion and anxiety, not knowing what to do, for he was surrounded and even under attack from every side by his beloved grandchildren.
Shortly before the afternoon prayer, the patriarch left the house for his store. His departure allowed the sitting room, where the remaining members of the family were gathered, to enjoy total freedom. It had inherited the role of the abandoned one downstairs and was furnished with the same mat, sofas, and large ceiling lantern. It had become the lounge and coffeehouse for those of the family still living in the old house. No matter how crowded, it had remained tranquil all day long. Now that the only trace of their father was the fragrance of his cologne, it could breathe freely. Their talk grew louder and so did their laughter. Everyone became more animated. The coffee hour once more seemed just like the old days. Amina was sitting cross-legged on a sofa by the coffee utensils. On another couch facing her sat Khadija and Aisha. On a third to the side, Yasin and Kamal were ensconced. Once al-Sayyid Ahmad had left, Ibrahim and Khalil Shawkat joined the party. Ibrahim took a place to the right of their mother-in-law and Khalil one to her left.
Ibrahim had hardly settled there when he addressed Amina affectionately: "God bless the hands that prepared such appetizing and delicious food for us". Then he glanced around the assembly with his languid, protruding eyes as though delivering an oration and continued: "Those casseroles… what casseroles! They're marvelous in this house. It's not the ingredients, no matter how delicious and excellent, it's the way they're allowed to cook down, more than anything else. It's an art. It's a miracle. Find me another casserole as delicious as those we had today."