Nabeel's Song
A Family Story of Survival in Iraq
The Swallow TreeSUMMER 1954
Sabria sings as she works the dough. It is a slow lament of her own. These songs, with their rambling verses of half–formed thoughts and sad, swooping melodies, come to her every morning as she moves about the house. Her hair, thick, black, and straight, swings from side to side in the early–morning sunlight as the melody dies to a hum and is reborn a minute later, inspired by figures from the world of myth and legend, perhaps her last pilgrimage to Karbala, her sister Makkya’s troubles in love, the cool water she has drawn from the well in the courtyard, or, as on this morning, her two older sisters, who died during the cholera outbreak in the year she was born.
Leaving the dough to rise, she goes to the well and draws two large tin buckets of water. As she walks back, she feels the baby twist inside her. She sings louder, directing her voice at her belly. This baby likes her singing, she is sure. Unlike Yasin, her husband. He listens as she waddles about the house, occasionally wincing and clicking his tongue until he can hold bac ...
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