Anhor E-Book

Haitham Nafel Wali

• Herausgeber: Books on Demand
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 541

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

The time of this novel is a despoiled one; rather, it is a hole that has been as tremendous as a mountain in utter darkness. It´s setting is everywhere in the world but my homeland. It´s main theme is all about the truth, wheras a shameful painful harsh truth in our country must remain as secret as a scandal. Thus, I have nothing to do here but to reveal this truth as well as to uncover it after I let it pass by my senses and develop into a novel that has been like a woman reiterating the following expression: "These are you, and this is your life!" Yet here I am, presenting my first work of fiction to you after more than one hundred and twenty attempts to write short stories. I would call them attempts, because I have not broken free from my fear of our Arab critics judgments yet. Hopefully it will be as good as you have expected, and hopefully this work of fiction of mine will have a strong indelible effect. In the end, succes only comes from Allah, glory be to him, who has created thougt to be published, and not to be prohibited or repressed.

Leseprobe

Dedication:

To those who helped me write my first novel, which had never occurred to me as I had only settled for writing short stories. To my wife Nihaya Ismaïl Badi. To The doctor Salam Djaoui Farhan. To the artist Sawsan Saif Salman. To them I give my novel that has been bathed in tears of sadness and joy alike. With all due respect. Haitham Nafel Wali. March 23rd 2015. Munich, Germany.

Contents

Introduction

Chapter 1.

Note

Chapter 2.

Chapter 3.

Chapter 4.

Chapter 5.

Chapter 6.

Chapter 7.

Chapter 8.

Chapter 9.

Chapter 10.

Chapter 11.

Chapter 12.

Chapter 13.

Chapter 14.

Chapter 15.

Chapter 16.

Chapter 17.

Introduction:

According to a myriad of people, writing is the way in which one could express themselves depending on their literary knowledge. Yet in this novel, I found myself obliged to only write what I saw with my own eyes as well as what had been stored in my own memory. I swear to my withering age, my soul that has been full of wounds even before I was born and the hope that I have not been living for its sake, that I rewrote this novel for dozens of times through a conviction that had been unconvincing to me.

Hopefully my dear reader, who would unquestionably resemble me, will not ask me to fairly talk about reality with all its bitterness without whatever sarcastic embellishment. For I would be quite astonished at them in an unmistakable disapproval if they did such a thing on the grounds that a bitter reality is sarcasm itself. Besides, he who hates injustice has to fight it with writing if he cannot do it otherwise. I have written this novel fair and square, and in my own style in which I would melt like a passionate lover when experiencing his first love affair under the influence of an ardent rapture. I would strongly believe that writing is a mixture of seriousness and sarcasm, a white unarmed revolution, a spiritual meaning that does not have a relationship with what is material, a remarkable generosity, a burning passion, strong love, longing and yearning, a streak of lightning, a clap of thunder, a volcano’s eruption, a waking up in the middle of the night as well as a continuous wakefulness that does not ome to an end unless the writer finishes up writing. Thence, the writer starts his journey towards doubt and certainty, criticism and judgment, longing and nostalgia, and praise and compliments. For this reason, I am longing to be a famous writer who is standing up for a controversial issue even though I am outside my homeland. I would like to wear the insignia, rather, the badge that is unknown to many of our writers, no matter if they have been outside or inside the country. For the latters are often under the influence of the party tendencies which are in fact pretty tough either to keep up with or to fight off. Yet abroad, we would find some other tendencies that have no relationship with parties, but they are more terrifying and more devastating due to the ethics of emigration. In this context, I am representing no one but myself on the grounds that I am pretty faithful to my country with its land, its water as well as its people with all their sects, based on the principle of the purposeful kind word, which means, according to my customs, an action, and the action means a motion, and the motion means construction and development rather than eminiscing about ruins and crying over them all the time. The time of this novel is a despoiled one; rather, it is a hole that has been as tremendous as a mountain in utter darkness. Its setting is verywhere in the world but my homeland. Its main theme is all about the truth, whereas a shameful painful harsh truth in our country must remain as secret as a scandal. Thus, I have nothing to do here but to reveal this truth as well as to uncover it after I let it pass by my senses and develop into a novel that has been like a woman reiterating the following expression: “These are you, and this is your life!“ Yet here I am, presenting my first work of fiction to you after more than One hundred and twenty attempts to write short stories. I would call them attempts because I have not broken free from my fear of our Arab critics judgments yet. Hopefully it will be as good as you have expected, and hopefully this work of fiction of mine will have a strong indelible effect. In the end, success only comes from Allah, glory be to him, who has created thought to be published, and not to be prohibited or repressed.

March 23rd 2015.

Haitham Nafel Wali.

Munich, Germany.

Chapter 1.

“Our sins are pretty obstinate, whereas our repentance is quite dishonorable. Yet in the meantime, we would receive great rewards for our confessions, then we would happily go back to the right way, thinking that with some despicable tears we could wash all our dirt away “.

Charles Baudelaire.

Note:

When reading this novel in which the reader, who must be as arrogant and haughty as myself, and who claims that he is faithful enough to immerse the whole world in his faith, will not have time to laugh or cry, I am asking him for nothing but patience.

The author.

In an audacity worth admiring and appreciating, Anhor sent a molten wax-like letter to her fiancé in which she wrote down her confessions that had been making her live in an insupportable agony and opened up about her early life to him before their wedding: “

Oh my dearly beloved. You are as pure as a smile upon a child’s lips. You are like a lovely song recited hilariously by the adorers. You are the most precious thing I have ever owned. Do I really own something of you? As for me, I do not like to own anybody whatsoever. You certainly know that fact; but, I have only meant to express my fascination with you along with my powerful love for you. I would sometimes be about to think that we were born to go off the rails. What a farce it would have been if this had been the actual state of things! I’m now sitting at my table, which I am in the dark about its shape; its length and width I mean. This table is full of white and black papers together with the pens that are sleeping, rather, as lifeless as myself, in a crazy disarray which is comparable to our existence on earth. I am thus absorbed at the moment in writing to you about my emotions in the thick of this fog of confusion that has been enshrouding our dream’s birth with the obsessions of the wise men who have been surrounding me throughout the years during which I have been dead without my knowledge in a world that was chock-full of beauty along with lots of untrustworthy and unbelievable fanciful fantasies.

Shame on us, my beloved!

We would perfectly know how to keep silent on the spur of the moment, and at every moment throughout this age that has been submerged in a vacuum of a never-ending absurdity out of the judgments of an infinity that has been so afraid and anxious about its past, which is either identical to a dead body, or as upright as a spear, just like my diving dreamy days which are sleeping within a vacuum, or probably inside a delusion.

How much longer should we run away from escape and helplessness? This is our story that we would often sing about instead of singing Fayrouz songs. Nothing could be a pleasure for the Iraqi people but sadness! What to be happy for throughout the time that our lips would not love being moistened by anything except our salty tears? Besides, we usually cannot be in good spirits except through the morose songs’ wailing. The only guilt accompanied with the restraints that have been put on us since many centuries, is this endless estrangement that we have brought ourselves to. Glory be to Allah; Yet, this must be considerably identical to this age that has been as submerged in entertainment as well as an absurd nothingness as our consecutive and permanent disappointments.

There is a soundless screaming that resembles the language of our nightmares. There also is a fake terror throughout the time that our reality does not want to sleep except after having a lay with the poor moon. Our lives have become as stinky as the blood of a miserable slain person. How wonderful our age is, being simultaneous with the beginning of our dreams! During this age, sadness would be mingled with horror, alternating like the morning and the evening of the troubles we have been living so forever in spite of a burst of patience inside of us, just like when two friends painfully share the deep end in a great failure and boredom.

Oh my dearly beloved. You are the main reason behind my delight and happiness. Will you protect me like a city that watches over the sea while sitting by its walls? You look as pure and dewy as the first light. You look so innocent and clean as the tears of a child, and like the dew drops that rest with arrogance and pride upon the leaves of flowers. You have never been a wolf in a sheep’s clothing, as the saying goes. So clear and honest you are, not having another face else than yours. You have an aversion towards hypocrisy along with insincerity, and you do not stand those who are given over to these characteristics; but you would rather dislike those people, and you do not account for their friendship, nor do you like their company. You would run many thousands of miles away from them. You are much the same as the sun in broad daylight which even a blind person could not deny its existence. You are so audacious and bashful that you do not care about your destiny. Your character is similar to the one of a genius, being pretty bashful in life, and pretty audacious at work. This incredible intermarriage between abashment and audacity has made you extremely distinctive and unique in both your works and your life alike. May this compatibility between the platonic abashment together with the crushing audacity be the human being itself, without whatever modification? Or might there be another kind of which we ignore the origin? However, I know you as much as I know the palm of my hand, which is the top of my happiness and ecstasy. Your kindness is the most conspicuous characteristic in your personality. You are as credulous as a European so that you might believe anything whatsoever on the spot. You love life in an exciting manner, as though you are going to live for only one day! You would always try to make the most of your particular moments in an extraordinary realism; yet, you would not try to only spend your happy moments to live with all your faculties. You would rather live your sad times in the same manner as you would do with your funny ones, in the same power and at the same pace. In a word, this is what makes me deeply in love with you, to the extent of infatuation and adoration!

My life had disappointed me throughout the early death which I always adored; yet, with regard to my luck, I know it pretty well. I perfectly know that it is as bad as the one stolen by a stick from a drum. God has granted me a soul that I always liked, yet many people would say that I have been developed into a pagan since our love should have been for God only! I used to adore all kinds of art; but, what might be the use of art at the time that there is no audience to applaud it! We believed ourselves, to find out in the end that we are nothing but a mere fog! The tears, O dear heart, are comparable to a language without letters; rather, a language that does not have whatever dictionary of its own. Tears are nothing but a matter that has been made up in order to wash away the sins stuck to our souls. However, might they be a cause for love or hatred one day? It may be quite possible for us to believe them or get influenced by them; yet, it must be beyond the bounds of possibility for them to be an affection or to be transformed into a hatred. Is it conceivable for them to bring back someone to life, to save a dearest and nearest when it is destined for him to die or to do away with an assailant murderer out-of-date? Are they able to do such a thing? So poor and cheap the human being’s tears are; but, they might serve the human being as a consolation though!

I once swore that I would reveal all my own secrets to my future partner, and that I would open up about my unhappiness to him so that he would share his dreams with me and carry some of my bad fortune upon his shoulders. What a peculiar life! It is said that life is unfair. The human being would make many mistakes against himself, yet he would not admit his sins whatsoever. Soon after however, he would irritatingly say that life is unfair. Is it really the way it has been described, my dearly beloved? Is it a mere immoral who tends for seduction?

Lots of things are taking place with us throughout the time that we are unable to come across the right words to explain them with. We cannot control them, nor can we choose what may be suitable for us amongst them, such as life and death, coincidence, luck and the place as well as the time of birth. Religion is considered to be one of these things, in which the human being cannot intervene, the same thing as my existence in my family that I am going to speak to you about at the moment.

My mother has abandoned my father way back when.

My father did not give in to my mother’s abandoning however, nor did he divorce her!

My mother did not give up on him, nor did she leave the house, but she has just refrained from having sex with him.

There were many reasons pushing her to do so, the most important of which consisted in his stinginess towards his family, his heavy drinking along with his addiction to the prostitutes who used to be seen on a daily basis by his store, which has been made both to earn his living and to drink alcohol alike! My father likes drinking wine, he used to love women and turned out to be indulged in his devilish enjoyments, as though he was a homeless who did not have a family to belong to. Unlike my mother who ended her primary education, my father is illiterate. My mother however, was aware of several things, feeling them through a hidden perception. In my perspective, she has been much better than many other women who had so many opportunities to obtain a higher education, yet they preferred to live their lives at a slow pace while they were on the verge of breaking their necks as they have been accustomed to follow their overpowered trembling shadows all the time! Don’t you believe, like myself, that the well educated people are particularly vulnerable to contradictions, and more susceptible to exert themselves in them with view to the conditions that have created such personality of theirs just as they surpasses the stage of experience and got into life?

By the time, my father got more and more accustomed to an excessive cruelty against my mother, as if she was an enemy of his! He was treating her roughly and harshly, and he would at so many times hit her and pull her soft long beautiful hair heartlessly and cruelly, especially as the night falls! Nevertheless, he was treating me, and precisely myself, in a different manner, but I do not know for what reason. He remained extremely merciful, friendly, kind and overgenerous with me.

My mother knew a lot about his vices; nevertheless, she would remain faithful, gracious and merciful with him during the day; yet, as soon as the night comes, she would wear another personality. On her face she would have firm, rigorous and frowning features while I probably was able to notice a kind of hatred in her looks as she scrutinizes my father with her beautiful eyes, and as she catches sight of him drinking alone in the sitting room which he would not want anyone to share with him whatever happens!

We, his three daughters who have not yet got married, were habituated to leave the room at the moment that he comes back home. We would hide in our room, being as shrinking and paralyzed with fear as terrified cats in spite of his gentleness and kindness with us, especially with me as I already mentioned above. My mother, and despite her repeated attempts, was not able to make him change anything of that outrageous behavior of his. She thus gave in to the inevitable and accepted her divine decree. I do not think that you are unaware of the fact that destinies could never change. Wasn’t the destiny that has chosen Iraq, our beloved country, to make it entirely devastated? Hasn’t it chosen Saïd, your brother, and made him pass away in an unbelievable manner as you once told me? On the night during which he was dead, he must have been in the camp where he used to serve. It was his turn to guard at the night that he had a car accident because of which he has lost his life. Isn’t it? Why did he leave the camp at the time that he must have been at his post of duty? When I knew that story, I have decisively believed in what I used to think before. I have often thought that destinies could never change, and as for our unexpected encounter, it is nothing but a clear evidence about what I have just said. The past is a funeral, a mere dead body, to the effect that even if its spectrum had passed before one’s eyes one day, it would not have come to life once again. Memory is an elapsed passive time the moments of which are leaking out of the human being’s life, falling off it, sneaking and flowing out just like the sand that you do not feel its existence in your hand, but like a professional thief as he sneaks out of a crime scene. This age, my dear one, is the beginning of the flood that is going to overwhelm the earth, submerge the plants, turn off the stars, disappear, fade away, hide in an abysmal sky and get lost in the end, then it will not exist anymore after that. Could it splendidly appear in the sky of Iraq once again? If so, then at what time?

As time went on, my mother became a wife for my father, but without a husband! A wife only on papers, and in front of people and society. In fact, she became less inclined towards him, not enjoying any of her rights as a wife. She put up with her life under the burden of that oppression and deprivation for the sake of her daughters and son. For the sake of our lives and future, and nothing else.

As the night falls, the color of my mother’s angelic white face would change to turn black and pale. I would then hear her dour, desperate and terrified voice rising throughout the house, calling out to her little daughter and asking her to go to her. Yet, this was not in order to kiss her good night or to read her a bedtime story. In fact, she would call her to ask her to lie down next to her, to remain in her arms, to stay accompanied to her on the bed so as to lie between her and her husband and protect her against his annoyances and insistence!

The little girl could hear the husband’s entreaties, whispers, moans and indecent insults, and then she would see her mother driving him away, clinging at the same time to her daughter and holding her so close that her youthful delicate ribs would be seconds away from being taken off their places or totally crashed.

She would consequently understand everything, which would make her keep crying and squirming underneath her blanket and in her mother’s warm arms. Being buried and locked up within her groans, anxiety and terror, the little girl would look at her mother with innocent eyes chained with horror as her father pulls her mother’s hair from above her head at the moment that she does not show the least motion except a discretion as well as a feeling of hatred and animosity towards her father in spite of her love for him, which was due to his excessive cruelty towards her mother in her forcible presence! Everything was taking place before her eyes and while she is still awake whereas her parents did not realize such a thing. Damn their oppression, their foolishness as well as their dull stupidity.

Those slow hours of the dark, cruel, vindictive and painful nights that she spent throughout the time that she was not able to do anything except keeping silent, drawing back and giving up for the sake of her mother. That little girl was brought up in the arms of reluctance and cruelty, Between the craziness and the obsession of both the abandoned husband along with the dispirited wretched destroyed wife. The little girl has grown up and reached the age suitable for marriage; yet, she is still shrinking from the night, wishing there would be no night at all. She has promised herself that she will not take her life for an extension to the lives of her mother and father, and that such tragedy will not repeat itself in her future marital home. She has also promised herself that she will not exert whatever pressure on her children, and that she will not share her tragedy with them, if there is any. Particularly, as you know, the troubles we had been exposed to because of your relations before we gave in to our request and desire for marriage, as well as their unjustified refusing due to the well-known reputation of the relationship between my mother and father, the details of which were unknown for the dearest and nearest! Do you know, my beloved, who is that girl? It is me. In the flesh. With my blood and memories about which I am telling you! Therefore, and for the sake of what I have just mentioned, I am letting you know “.

She after that ended her letter with the new signature she has gone for after her engagement, which consisted of the first two letters of their names, hers and her fiancé’s, in English, crowned with an uneven scribbled dash to embrace the two letters so that it ends from above these letters in an arched scribble, as if to shade them like a tent. At the meantime, she was on top of the world due to her innovation; rather, her new signature.

Chapter 2.

Anhor was Born to be the baby of an Iraqi family that would consider itself as a conservative one in spite the fact that they had never been likewise; for they used to be in favor of the religious intolerance, yet against intolerance in religion. In fact, Anhor had been in favor of both religion and life together. She was leading a life without let or hindrance in a locality next to Karkh city, named Assyria, which had been full of Christian people. She spent most of her life trembling with invocation and submissiveness whenever she listens to Al-Asr prayer’s azan in the evening. However, She could not find any explanation to what was taking place with her. It was enough for her to enjoy such calmness, tranquility and psychic wellness throughout the time that she was listening to the words of Allah through the microphone of the nearby mosque. She had never forgotten about this feeling when she got older. She would fervently remember it and go about as if she was hearing that sound wherever she goes; yet, she was not able to find an explanation to what was happening to her.

Being a descendant of a bow that was not used to the frustration of the wind, which in turn was, according to her, not powerful enough to shake a branch, she would often say:

“ Out of the coal we get our light. One should always give a good deal, without thinking of taking something in return, for the genuine happiness is to see a smile on someone’s lips. Whenever one sees such a thing, he then should know that he is a human being who lives in the heart of God “.

She adores nature as much as the seagulls adore the sea. She used to live the moments of her life as remarkably and spontaneously as a little child as he forgets himself while playing at the sea shore. She would laugh sincerely, cry with all her heart, and moan and sigh righteously. She used to help people as much as possible, and with every single fibre of her being. Furthermore, her story with the German lady who had had a turtle’s heart was a clear evidence of this character of hers.

The other day she ran across an old lady in Bad Wörishofen, that Bavarian beautiful town where she had worked and lived for nearly five years after she had got tired of the clamor of the twenty-one years that she had spent in Munich. She thus found her calling in that cool town, which was lying upon the Alps’ shoulders the summits of which would be shining throughout the winter, having a snow-white color like a man’s sperm. She therefore came in the company of her husband to live in that town after they had left Iraq before the First Gulf War. That small town where she and her husband were living had been similar to a tourist attraction split into two parts by a ravishing glistening stream. Besides, several springs of mineral water and lots of trees had been spread out every here and there along the town, and the springs were used for free. It had been located in the south-west of Germany, next to the giant famous Alps mountain range. It had had a good reputation as it became wellknown for its springs of mineral water that had been very good as a physical therapy against skin and bone diseases. Those natural cure forms through hydrotherapy had been discovered during the last century by a Bavarian priest named Sebastian Kniepp. So, the above-mentioned lady whom Anhor and her husband met was from Dresden city, which had been well-known for the abundance as well as the antiquity of its churches that had held their grounds during the second world war, over time and throughout history. She was a wonderful lady who had been as protected by the Wholly God as a saint. She was a charming lady in spite of her old age, thus she appeared to them like a princess with a heart that was full of love and compassion; a heart that was pretty similar to the one of a turtle, which may keep beating many hours after getting slaughtered!

It was a morning with a fresh gentle breeze jumping with joy. This is how Anhor’s husband found that morning. He was living an unspeakable moment of joy after he had gone deep into her and into every part of her body, from head to foot, feeling both her clamor and quietness together. He was feeling an unmatched elation that was quite comparable to the one of a crazy man who is in the extreme of arrogance in spite of the fact that he and his wife were late for work. He kept having those feelings that may be unique during one’s life in the middle of all the pain along with the torment that could have been surrounding them. He used to perfectly know how to live moments of the kind, for they would not have come back again if they had once gone by. Yet, even if they were to come back one day, they would be shorter than the previous ones, for these moments are taken out of the current time!

The black Mercedes, their own car that used to be driven by Anhor’s husband himself, was going fast at the time that Anhor was sitting next to her husband with her face shining with joy and kindness as she was looking to him with unequaled passionate emotions. At the meantime, she was violently, carefully and gently feeling the joy of the happy moments he was living, not knowing what for. They were in that state until an old lady, who was anxiously standing on the pavement of the street, did suddenly come into view. She was leaning against a polished long cane that the sunray was reflecting on in such a way that it appeared to be made up of ivory. The old lady was pointing with her hand and waving high with her ivory cane so as to compel them to stop. As she saw her, Anhor gently whispered to her husband, and in a tone that might not stand objection she asked him to pull up the car and ask the lady about what she wants. The husband hesitated a little, then he said to her:

“ But we’ll be taking too long “.

“ Please pull up “.

Yet he again went on expressing his resentment in a succinct manner:

“ But it’s time! “

“ Let it go to hell “.

“ What about our work? “

“ Devil take it! “

Then she added in a serious tone that might not be doubted:

“ The most important thing for me at the moment is to offer my help to that lady, for she probably is in trouble “.

“ Ok “.

He thereupon pulled up the car right in front of the old lady whereas he was looking at his watch, as if he was sarcastically conversing with himself. At that moment, he saw the lady very clearly. She was tall with fair hair, a fair complexion and blue eyes, as though she did not live all those long years. She seemed to be eighty years old, or maybe a little more than that.

Anhor did not dawdle, nor did she wait, so she rolled the car window down and asked the lady in a warm friendly tender voice:

“ How can we help you, madam? “

The old lady answered confidently:

“ I’m a tourist, and I’d like to get to the city center. I couldn’t get a taxi “.

She stopped speaking for a while, she took a deep breath and then she carried on:

“ What was I saying? Oh yes. I’ve just remembered. I reckon you couldn’t give me a ride to the city center. Could you? “

The husband resentfully looked to his wife, for he was not satisfied at all, but she paid no mind to his looks, so she opened the car’s door and quickly got off it and said:

“ It’s our destination, madam “.

Her husband finally spoke, commenting:

“ That’s right. Our workplace is also situated in the city center, so we’re going right there “.

He then changed his tone of voice, making it closer to a confidential talk:

“ With pleasure, madam. Come in please. We’re going to lose nothing whatsoever “.

At that moment he was scrutinizing his wife with surly looks as an indication that he was not convinced of what she was doing throughout the time that she was busy with the old lady, fastening the seatbelt over her breast and shoulders after she offered her to sit in the front. However, the lady refused that offer in an unequaled kindness and apologized to her for that, saying:

“ You are still in your prime, and life is waiting for you with open arms and wonderful surprises. You just have to rush towards it so as to pick up every precious minute of it “.

She then went on saying tenderly:

“ Don’t let these precious minutes of yours go just like that, without love or happiness throughout the time that you deserve all these things. As for myself, I would rather like to sit on the backseat, which may mean the end. Rather, it might be a sign for my approaching departure “.

A dead silence came over them all whereas Anhor’s husband did not dawdle. He quickly set out for his workplace. Soon after, the old lady asked him:

“ I wish I’d not be mistaken. You’ve just said that you both work in the city center. Don’t you? “

“ That’s right, madam “.

With an audacity mingled with sweetness she said:

“ Excuse me for bothering you; but, I have a curiosity to know what do you do “.

The husband said with an exaggerated interest:

“ We work as jewelers, and we sell hand watches “.

He then added in an obvious courtliness:

“ We own a small store there that I and my wife used to manage for so many years now “.

He said this during the time that he was looking at his wife with side glances like a fish and winking at her. The old lady then cleared her throat, apologizing:

“ I’ve actually bought a new hand watch yesterday. If I had known that I was going to meet you, I’d have bought it at your store “.

He replied with a great sobriety:

“ don’t mention it, madam. Everything is an act of God. This is how I used to know and talk about life. Our sustenance would come to us by God’s will, and even without our knowledge “.

“ Most definitely, my dear. What you’re saying is absolutely right “.

She said these words whereas she was breathing with difficulty. Anhor, who was sitting right in front of her, heard her breathing going out of her lungs so painfully that she appeared to have been suffering from asthma. So, she anxiously asked her:

“ Are you suffering from asthma, madam? “

“ Don’t worry. For he who has the hard experiences I had in my life must be exposed to more than one disease. The asthma is something that is not worth caring about a lot, particularly as I lived during the second world war with all its pains, bitterness and torment. For this reason, I should thank you very much for your kind feelings towards me “.

Yet she said before keeping silent:

“ This is very kind of you, and I’ll never forget about this favor of yours just like that “.

The husband whispered together with his wife, without hesitation, positively and with one voice, as if they were previously agreed:

“ Don’t mention it “.

At that moment, they arrived at their workplace so that the husband quickly got off the car and went towards his store, whereas his wife stayed there to help the old lady who was still letting out some ceaseless deep sighs that were quite similar to a snoring sound.

As soon as he opened his store’s door, he did a double take as he saw his wife stepping into it, accompanied with the old lady. A few minutes went by during which the old lady told Anhor about her intention to buy a small golden necklace. He looked amazed at that quick payback at the time that he did not display his items to the customers on the storefront still. This was the idea that came to his mind at that moment. He felt like the happiness that had been overwhelming him a few minutes before was of a good reason in spite of the fact that the latter had been totally unknown for him. His laughter therefore grew even more louder, besides, his steps started being as fast as the ones of someone who wants to run away. But, he suddenly took umbrage once again, so he made a face and lost his merry temper that had just been over the moon when he heard the lady firmly saying again and again:

“ Where am I? “

She after that wondered about time, the reason of her being in that store as well as many other things of the kind, which made him feel skeptical about her faculties. Yet, what was making him more anxious was the fact that she more than once asked about the price of the necklace even though she got a clear answer from his wife! The old lady got in his nerves and disturbed him a lot when she said:

“ I actually don’t have my wallet at the moment. I’ve left it at the hotel where I’m staying for the time being “.

She then started again:

“ I don’t exactly know the way to your store, nor do I even know the way to come back to this place, for I’m here a mere tourist as I said before, and I have been here for only a few days “.

Anhor sincerely stepped in as usual:

“ We could meet in the same place where we met you a moment ago, and this will be at two o’clock in the afternoon as I and my husband go back to the store after the lunch break. Hmm! What do you think about that, madam? “

“ Great. Ok then “.

She then added:

“ But I actually have got a wish that hopefully you’ll fulfill for me “.

“ With pleasure “,

Anhor replied.

“ I’d like you to clean this ring of mine, and I’ll take it back along with the necklace just as we meet in the afternoon “.

“ Certainly. I’ll make it as glittering as a diamond under the sun “.

The old lady got up with her tall slender body and left the store. At that time, the husband was totally dissatisfied as he was uncertain that he and his wife would meet the lady once again as was planned. But, what made him really anxious was the fact that he felt like she had got a very weak capacity of thinking, communicating and remembrance. Thus, her words, which she was reiterating about the price, the place she was in as well as time, had been reechoing in his ears all the time, which gave him a peculiar unstable feeling that was bearing out for him that she would never be there again. he thereupon started blaming his wife for her excessive kindness to the others even if this would be at the expense of their own life. Further more, he was no longer feeling the happiness he felt in the morning, nor was he enjoying that morning’s gentle fresh breeze. Everything he was thinking of at that time was the profit he would have made if the old lady had bought that necklace, especially as he was looking at her ring that was in his right hand, and which he found out that it was nothing but a cheap silver one the price of which could not have been more than fifteen euros! Anhor was looking at him and nodding her head against her husband’s exaggeration, pessimism and haste to judge the others without neither care nor a deep reflection.

It was two o’clock in the afternoon when they set out with their car as usual. The husband was unusually peeping out in an excessive anxiety, being keen on seeing the old lady like he saw her in the morning. Yet, as soon as he turned right, he found her waiting as she promised, in the same reverence and the same clothes. At that moment he did not believe himself in such a way that his heart grew totally elated once again that he turned out to be walking on air.

Anhor helped the old lady get into the car whereas the lady was apologizing for bothering them with words that were most likely to be prayers.

A few seconds went by when the old lady gave them five hundred euros for the necklace as well as for cleaning her ring. She after that begged the husband to allow his wife to take her back to the hotel with their car. He warmly agreed with a great pleasure whereas he was looking at the paper money, counting them carefully and putting them into his wife’s box, which he knew perfectly well, after he pressed them together.

On the way, Anhor asked the old lady about the reason of her going out in the morning so that the lady confidently and honestly replied:

“ I actually did this for no set purpose “.

In amazement:

“ Does this mean that you didn’t have anything to do in the city center? “

“ Hopefully you won’t get me wrong. I didn’t mean this “.

She then kept quiet, pondering and lost in thought, as if she was in another world. Soon after, Anhor asked her again in astonishment: “ What does this mean? You said that you went out for no set purpose, and at the same time you’re asking me not to get you wrong! Could you please clear this up for me, madam?

“ She answered seriously:

“ All I wanted to say, how to explain this to you? Well, I mean, I didn’t have something special to do “.

“ Sorry, but I didn’t understand “.

She let a snoring sound, rather a breath out of her tired lungs, then she said: “ What I’d like to say is that I decided in the morning to go to the church “.

She was interrupted by Anhor who suddenly let out a gasp:

“ Was it only to go to the church? “

With a faint voice that was likely to be a whisper:

“ Absolutely, sweet heart. I wanted to go to the church and light a candle to take it for a good omen. This is an old habit that I used to practice way back when. But, I actually did so after I’d left you in the morning, then I went back to the hotel, but when I was in your store, I’ve ran across this pretty necklace that was quite similar to the one I once had, and which I gave to a woman who was my roommate at the hospital about one year ago. Then when I found it in your store, I decided to buy it at once “.

She carried on after that, expressing herself spontaneously and in an excessive sensitivity so as not to hurt Anhor’s emotions, saying: “

Hopefully you didn’t consider the necklace purchase as a payback, for I actually don’t think in this manner “. She then added:

“ It might be enough for me that this necklace will always remind me of you as well as of the favor you’ve done to me, more than any other considerations. Not forgetting the fact that you were late for going to your workplace, where you earn your bread and butter, because of me. What I thus did was nothing in front of the human value that I’ve received from you “.

She afterward noted in an excessive excitement, talking about something that was out of the subject:

“ Oh my pretty girl. You’ve got an enchanting kindness that might embrace the whole world, along with a heart which is as compassionate as a turtle’s so that it may keep beating for many long hours after death “.

Anhor turned awe-struck and said:

“ That’s really stunning! “

“ But what to be stunned for? “

“ My husband was saying the same thing about you. He was reiterating the same sentence. He was saying that you’ve got a heart that is as compassionate as a turtle’s! “

She then laughed in a wonderful childish spontaneity, and so did the old lady. Consequently, their chuckles suddenly turned out into loud guffaws, as if they were watching a comic movie. Soon after, the old lady forgot about her respiratory distress and grew indulged in an overwhelming unexpected delight, and so did Anhor, particularly after she found out that they belong to the same horoscope, which means that God had created them with the same characteristics. They both belonged to the firm resolute honest kind and compassionate Sagittarius. Their guffaws were still enough to wake the dead, resembling the neighing of a disinclined horse that would reject being domesticated!

Anhor got rid of her mind control in such a way that throughout her quietness there often was a touching conversation. Her stillness was a movement, her life was a vow, her worship was a prayer, her death was a redemption, besides, her time together with everything she owned were at the disposal of all the people she loved; yet, she used to love all people, as if they all were her own relatives. However, all these facts do not mean that she had been above the human vulnerability.

He who used to hate being vanquished would certainly get his wants one day. Anhor used to entirely believe in this saying. In addition to that, she had an extensive knowledge to the effect that her relatives and friends would often wonder where she obtained that large number of information from. She would, for instance, hate medicines, and would never take them even when she gets extremely sick. She would refuse to call a doctor in case her health got worse so that when she has a seizure, everyone would say:

“ She will perish if she keeps rejecting to see a doctor. She will certainly die “.

A few days later however, with the power of her creator, and after boiling and drinking some herbs together with the leaves of some plants that even the devil is in the dark about their kinds and names, she would vividly get up and start walking all around the house like a mast of a boat as it sails with pride and arrogance, confronting both the wind and the destiny together. Glory be to Allah who had created Anhor. She was so humorous that she would be by the side of those around her whenever they need such a thing, without getting incapacitated. She would suddenly disappear into nothingness in such a way that one could not tell where she is. But soon after, she would appear once again, being absolutely the same. She then would go on talking to the people around her, playing with them, going and coming with consistent energy. She would not get bored under no circumstances, and she would keep their secrets whatever it takes. She could not sleep until she makes sure that everyone in the house are asleep. Just at that moment she would feel that her duties for that day came to an end. She would therefore rest in comfort, being totally reassured. So strange the world of women is, particularly those who would feel that they are living only for the sake of their families, being convinced of what they are doing. Otherwise, how could one explain Anhor’s burning desire to write her will for a particular reason that had been, according to her, worth doing so!

In a morning where the sun was still bashful to appear on the stage of the universe, Anhor started moaning audibly and intermittently as she was sitting on her bed with her hair scattering all over her body like a fountain that was sprinkling water onto the earth. Her moans worried her husband who went on looking at her with horror, not believing what was happening around him. She was holding her head between her hands, as if she was picking it up back after it was separated from her body! She looked so pathetic that her husband rushed to her and asked her in astonishment:

“ What’s wrong with you? Do you have any problem? How can I help you? “

But, she disregarded his entreaties and sorrowfully started weeping and crying over her bad luck:

“ I’m a mere miserable person who doesn’t have either a good luck in life, or the least happiness that I often heard about without even tasting it “.

Her voice grew louder, then she nervously started sobbing, as though one of her relations passed away. She then added after a while: “

I just don’t want to stay alive anymore “.

She after that added in a trembling quavering voice at the moment that she was in hysteria:

“ I simply would like to lay my life down. To pass over to the great beyond. I’m actually not aspiring to live my life in this manner anymore. No. I don’t want such a thing “.

Then she burst into tears in such a way that if someone heard her cries, he would unquestionably have pity on her. But, soon after, she went on reiterating the words that she said a few moments ago: “

I’m a mere miserable wretched person who knows nothing about life but pain. Besides, I have no ambition or crumb of hope to stay alive for its sake “.

She was interrupted by her husband who drew near to her and soothed her watery hair as an attempt to calm her down, then he said:

“ But what are you saying, my dear? What’s happening to you? I’ve actually never been accustomed to this pessimism of yours before, particularly in the morning. For we, as you see, are still in bed. We’ve not got up yet! Calm down please, and talk me through the matter quietly so that I could be able to understand it and then to help you with it “.

She turned her back on him and carried on sobbing, as if she was in an Arabic funeral, so he reluctantly said to her, as though to apologize to her for something:

“ I’ll call the doctor right away as long as you don’t answer my questions, nor do you want me to help you “.

He got off the bed while he was still looking at her, but she suddenly felt rather embarrassed. So, during the moment that she was looking at the original painting of a Dutch painter, which had been hanged on the wall and portraying the compassionate nature in the spring together with two children walking hand in hand, she said in a faint voice and without blinking her eyes:

“ No. There’s no need for that “. S

he then kept quiet, yet she did not stop crying! At that moment her husband said, complaining:

“ I beg forgiveness of Allah! “

Then he carried on, saying:

“ What should I do then? “

Yet she replied as hastily as someone who had nothing to worry about, nor was he afraid of suicide:

“ Nothing at all. Don’t do anything whatsoever “.

Then she carried on:

“ Leave me alone please. For my trouble is probably of no importance for you even though you could understand it. Leave me alone, please “.

She after that burst into tears once again. Her husband grew so overanxious that he whispered to her in an unusual gentleness:

“ All you should do, my dear wife, is to trust me. Try to open up to me about your troubles, and I’ll take care of the rest. I promise “.

Then he added in a confident tone of voice:

“ Just don’t worry about it. Don’t bother yourself at any event. I’m not asking you for more than that “.

He thereupon carried on in a supplicating tone of voice in such a way that he looked like a panhandler:

“ Tell me all, for God’s sake. Is this too much for you? “

Her tone of voice changed and suddenly turned out to be highly-strung. She hesitated for a while during the time that she was trembling, as if she was having a high fever:

“ It’s not your business. My health is pretty good, and I’m not having any organic pain “.

Then she insistently added:

„ But, I’d like to ask you for something though. Please leave me by myself at the moment. Please! “

She threw herself on her bed again and covered herself from head to foot so that she appeared as if she was no longer there. Nothing showed that she had been there except her moans together with her hot gasps. A few moments later, she perked up, as though she remembered something that she wanted to say, so she cleared her throat and said:

“ Devil take me. I don’t want to stay alive anymore as I just said. I actually hate such a thing. I don’t want to experience life to the full under no circumstances “.

Soon after, and after she collected her wits, she quite frankly declared with all the conceitedness, the firmness as well as the rigor she had, shouting:

“ I wanna kill myself. I don’t want to stay alive. Is it clear now, man? “

She was sorrowfully and mercilessly looking at him and bitterly and sadly pointing to him with her small thin lovely finger:

“ Bring me a sheet of paper and a pen please. I’d like to write my own will! Besides, I want you to always take care of our little son. I actually haven’t got any other wish for you to fulfill but to teach our son all sorts of righteousness and good manners, and not to make him in need of anything whatsoever. Come along! Promise me please. But swear to me right now, and here in front of me. Promise me that you’ll fulfill this will of mine faithfully. Come on! Promise me please “.

She thereupon started screaming in an unusual manner, which made her husband lose control over himself, his sobriety and prudence for which he was well-known in critical and difficult situations! He was not able to focus on the thing he should have done at that moment where he lost his courage in its entirety. Yet, One could be strong, proud and prudent as long as they are not concerned with the trouble. However, once they come to confront it, and the matter turns out to be related personally to them, they would soon grow in trouble. They would be as destroyed and melted as a burnt out candle , as the saying goes.

Her husband remained as petrified and motionless as an idol and kept on looking at her while his heart was beating so hard that he looked as if he wanted either to explode or to leave his place. But, just at that moment, someone went on continuously ringing their apartment’s doorbell like a fire alarm, which made his situation more complicated, more perplexing and more embarrassing. He rushed to open the door, to come upon his little son who was coming back home after he left it for about twenty minutes so as to go to school. He therefore asked him in a great astonishment while the features of confusion along with a feeling of anger and hope were showing themselves on his tired sleepy face that he did not wash still:

“ What did you come back here for, my son? Has there been any problem? “

The son left his father standing by the door like a lamppost without answering his questions, and rushed in towards his mother who was still on the bed whereas her eyes were still full of tears. At that moment he whispered to her with a smile on his face:

“ I’m so sorry, mommy. I forgot to kiss you goodbye as I was going out of the house. I was obliged to step on it. But I ..... “.

She did not wait for her son to finish up speaking, yet she quickly lifted him off the ground in a stunning amazing eagerness after she jumped out of her bed like a rabbit so as to hold him in her arms as well as to warmly kiss him, as though she did not see him for so many years. She was at that moment smiling and laughing, so she said:

“ I’d have killed myself if you hadn’t come back right away, my dear son, “.

In consequence, her cheerful gleesome laughter was again heard all around the house as she had come back to life and had suddenly become as active and vivid as she was before. She thus looked as delighted as she was at the moment that she said in front of the imam who witnessed to her marriage:

“ Yes. I accept him as a husband “.

Soon after, her son kissed her hand that was as soft and smooth as a glass surface; But, he actually did not understand what was happening around him, for at that time he was not more than eight years old.

Anhor came from a rather well-to-do family. Besides, She had been really pampered by Daoud, her father, which was causing so many considerable problems in her life through the rest of her family members. Her father owned a jewelry store situated in one of the best streets in Baghdad on the bank of the Tigris river, called the River street. He had a fair complexion, a shaved face and a watery hair. He was a tubby man who used to have a unique characteristic since his early life; he had the capacity to speak more than one hundred words per minute. He would laugh with all his heart, and nothing in life was as important for him as his lusts. He used to spend his money both on himself and on the others around him with an untold extravagance, particularly on the women who he got acquainted with through his work. But, in the meantime, he would not give anything to his family except some pennies, and against his will. This was especially when he grows so resentful that he would shout at his tall pretty wife who had been capable of confronting him whenever necessary:

“ Where do you want me to bring you money from? Do you want me to become a thief for instance? “

No one of that bloody family knew who was financially responsible for it. Badriyah, his wife, was a good-looking lady so that her youngest daughter inherited her beauty, loveliness as well as stubbornness. She was so strong that she used to compete with her husband both in work and debate, knowing that the latter may occur as a result of a deep apprehension together with the fact that one should not take things just as they actually are, without neither understanding them nor analyzing them and drawing the proper conclusions in the end. She therefore used to believe that she really had a free will, and that she had not been created to be restrained. But, this is what used to make her husband angry with her. She would never turn a blind eye to his behaviors as she notices him go beyond the reasonable limits. As soon as something of the kind comes about, she would bring him back to his senses through the force that she had got together with the instinctive prudence that some women might have. Yet, these things in their entirety were not desirable for her husband who would see this to be beyond his gruesome manhood that would pay no mind to the women’s right to be a human being like himself. Along with her beauty, Anhor inherited some of her mother’s strong personality, but she disregarded her contradictions, which she used to hate a lot. She always hated her unfair way in which she used to divide her love between her children!