Free Bin Laden's Woman by Gustavo Homsi Page B

Naturally, the
girls will be photographed by our studio; the pictures need to be
published in the newspaper. We would then have a small expense with
the photos, the clichés, you understand, of course.
    The wise woman smells the setup. She ends
the conversation.
    - Would you like another kebab?
A little dried yogurt? No? Alright. I’ll talk to my husband and
then call you if the girls are interested. I'll wrap some baklava (puff pastry with
honey and nuts), I know your mother loves it. Thank you for the
note in your column last week, it’s very important to us. Don’t
forget us. Come to see us more often. Next week, we’ll have that
dried yogurt and chicory esfiha you like so much, you’ll be our guest.
     
    When he leaves, she tells her
husband.
    - Georgie, for the love of God, we still
have so many problems with these girls in the house, imagine them
in a store window!
    Ge orge - as he has been doing in the past
few years - is silent and sad. In the good old days, Sammy would
have been the prettiest and best dressed debutante in the most
elegant club in Damascus. He would have been the proudest father in
the world, instead, he was there, selling kibbes - Hara !
     
    Carol was a bit upset, blonde and
beautiful, she could see herself in that white dress, hosted by a
TV artist, dancing with one of the princes.
    Sammy didn’t give a damn. She was upset
with the frustration of her father. Her mother wouldn’t let him do
anything he wanted.
     
    As time went on, the two girls were
increasingly different, Carol got curves, became feminine, the boys
fantasized about her, she liked wearing dresses, makeup, spent
hours at the mirror.
    Sammy also got curves, in a different way.
She was tall, slim, small breasts. Always wearing a white shirt and
a long oriental patterned skirt. Her curly and shiny hair, almost
at her waist, was tied above her ears. She had a beauty spot over
the right corner of her mouth. The spot darkened when she was
angry
     
    Carol fell madly in love. In this family,
no dates, no chances, nothing at all, only getting married, and
that's what happened.
    Samira’s thoughts were hammering in her
head, she was against that marriage, it was too soon. Whatever! The
boy was also in love, nice guy, good family. Carol’s godmother
liked the idea. At the end, you know? Better this way – thought
Samira, the blonde wouldn’t last too much in the middle of that
wolf pack.
     
    The German priest loved those girls, he
extended the red carpet from the church to the Naffahs’
door.
    Even in ours days, if you go
to Tupã you will be introduced to the couple; him, a rancher, and
her, beautiful and polite. Then, you’ll have to listen about their
children and their perfect marriage. The bride who was the fairest
of them all. The wonderful dishes that were served. How the party
went into the morning hours, that night with a full moon shining on
the Naffahs’ terrace.
     
    It was the first extravaganza in years,
but the marriage of a daughter is really important to an
Arab.
    Sammy left Tupã to study computer science in Marilia.

 
     
Marilia
    Sam my was living in an Arab home, some
friends of George’s mother’s cousin’s. It was a big family. They
had also seen better days, but were fine.
     
    Young people, among whom Sammy was
included, were on aunt Nadia. She had no children, so used to take
care of everybody’s kids.
    The leash was tight as usual, but it was
different. Aunt Nadia was strict, but she wasn’t Sammy’s mother.
They could talk. Nadia had received a careful education; as well as
Arabic and Portuguese, she spoke and wrote French and
English.
     
    In the first year, Sammy made friends.
Giardini was the only one, besides her, who was interested in the
lessons. Except for a Japanese girl from Jales, who was also their
friend, the rest of the class had no idea what was
happening.
    Giardini had Italian name, but looked like
an Arab, early hair loss above the temples, curly hair and a thin
beard. Chubby.