Free Throwing Sparks by Abdo Khal Page A

measured our long-distance ability, the sites for many of our games and our fishing grounds. The narrow passages between the dense coral reefs became denser the deeper one went, and by laying out our nets close together along those passages we would easily trap entire schools of fish.
    We also swam out to the islets whenever we needed to hide or take refuge after a fight. The islets had been there since time immemorial, and their deep crevices had lain undisturbed by the crashing of the waves and the comings and goings of humans through the ages. According to the old fishermen’s tales, which still filled us with wonder in those days, anyone who fell into one of the crevices would never again be seen.
    Issa claimed he had spent two days and three nights inside one of the crevices, hiding from his father. Whether he did or not was debatable, but he certainly emerged more scurrilous than ever. And something did happen out there that would change all our destinies.
    Issa had stolen all of his grandmother’s savings, which she had set aside for the Hajj pilgrimage that year, and used the money to buy himself a donkey to go rabbit-hunting in the wadis east of Jeddah. His younger sister discovered the theft and told on him to their father, Abu Issa, who swore that Satan himself had not conceived the kind of punishment he would inflict on his son.
    When Issa realised he had been found out, he abandoned the donkey and made himself scarce.
    Abu Issa retrieved the donkey, sold it for piastres at the souk and, returning home, became determined to teach his son a lesson he would never forget, a punishment that would for ever impress on the boy the fate reserved for thieves. He settled on the idea of sending his mother on the Hajj riding his son’s back. This thought appealed to him so much that he laughed all the way home, tickled merely by the picture of his mother sitting astride Issa’s shoulders, her legs dangling off his back.
    However, by the time he reached the house, the idea had lost some of its appeal and he wondered whether, rather than carrying her on the Hajj, Issa should just be made to bend over and walk back and forth between the house and the municipal parking lot with his grandmother on his back.
    In the end, he thought better of that too, and decided Issa should simply carry his grandmother one trip the length of their street. Issa’s father settled contentedly on this punishment.
    When Issa came home, his mother warned him his father was furious, especially since the money for the donkey had not even come close to the original amount Issa had pinched. His mother, known as Umm Issa, suggested that it might be better to wait for his father out in the street rather than confront him in the house so that a neighbour might take pity on him and come to protect him from his father’s wrath.
    Issa decided there and then to run off and hide on the islet called Umm al-Qumari.
    He was hurrying down the street when he heard his father roar, ‘Don’t you dare run away!’
    Issa spun around and stepped back instinctively. ‘You’re going to hit me,’ he said with alarm.
    ‘No, I am not going to hit you,’ replied Abu Issa sternly. ‘But I am going to punish you.’
    ‘Punish me?’
    ‘That’s right. I’ve sworn that your grandmother will be going on the Hajj riding on your back.’
    ‘And you think I’m crazy enough to let your fat mother go to the Hajj on my back?’
    ‘Shame on you,’ his father shouted. ‘Don’t you dare talk like that about your grandmother.’
    ‘Yes, she’s my grandmother. So I’m supposed to carry her and break my back?’ Issa stood a safe distance away even though he knew he could easily outrun his father. ‘If you’re so concerned about your mother going on the Hajj,’ he added, ‘why don’t you carry her on your back?’ His legs were ready for flight and he glanced around quickly to stake out the best escape route.
    ‘Where’s the money you stole?’
    ‘You already know