"are you ready?" I look at Maryam who's sitting beside me with her eyes focused heavily on the dough, it was almost as if her glare would burn right through it. she nods her head attentively, so silent that I had to laugh she must've thought that if she spoke it would ruin the process. i made a lot of dough in case she was going to make any mistakes. i remembered my first time, I ruined about fifteen pieces just to get one right and after that one, I messed up another four.
"Okay, so the secret is to make sure that you have a lot of flour but you won't use it all. first, we begin by sprinkling flour all over the plate, not too much but not too little, because it would either be sticky and rip or it can have too much flower on it and it wouldn't stretch well" i look over at her as she nods again without speaking. i grinned, i found this to be very funny. i ask her again if she understood, to see if she would speak and again she remains silent only nodding.
"Next we take the round piece of dough and gently place our palm against it making sure to flatten it but not too hard so it wouldn't stick to the plate and make sure to flatten the edges because when you start flipping it from hand to hand, the edges tend to be left out and not stretched as well as the whole piece. she nods again and this time i let a little laugh escape my mouth. she looks at me confused and i continue to explain. i start flipping the dough from one hand to another slowly and gently so it wouldn't rip. this was my favorite part, it's true its the part i found most difficult when i was learning but once you get used to it, you love the feeling of the dough being flipped, it becomes amusing, to watch it stretch without ripping, to see something you've struggled with so much become so easy.
"and you want to know what the biggest secret to this part is? " i flash her a smile, "it's being gentle, you have to observe the dough and be extra gentle as to not rip it, and then the final step you transfer it onto the masmada and thennnn bammm," i said flipping it with strength onto the inside of the tanoor oven (aka tandoor oven) and I place the lid over the oven quickly so the heat wouldn't escape. realizing i got carried away i look at Maryam who seemed to be stuck thinking of another step.
"you know what for now let's just focus on the first three steps"
"agreed" she responds quickly, with a forced smiled. of course, she fails the first few attempts and then slaps the dough on the plate "damn it, why is this so harddddd, how did you learn it?" She grumbles
"through experience, i failed a lot you know, my mother" i stopped talking. i hadn't mentioned my mother in so long, it pains me to speak of her. Realizing that i had gone silent Maryam speaks from next to me
"I loved your mother, may Allah have mercy on her soul, she was a beautiful soul" i nod but don't say anything after that
"you know it's okay to mention those who passed away, don't you think they like being remembered, they like living through us, through the things they taught us" that made me mad. why would she say that, i remember my mother, i love my mother and she had no right to assume that i don't carry her just because i don't mention her. my eyebrows furrowed and i felt my forehead wrinkling, i looked away. as if realizing she says "what did your mother do, you didn't finish your sentence"
"i used to watch her make roti and thought it was the coolest thing ever because she used to do it with such ease and speed. she used to have this big scar on her wrist because she burned her arm while putting it in the tanoor over, I guess that's why I get so scared of the tanoor, my mother had that scar for over eight years," i said in order to prove to her that I do mention my mother, that i remember her clearly, every detail about her.
i could never forget her, i just had a hard time speaking about her because everything that happened would come rushing through. how she died was still something I couldn't forgive myself for. If only at that moment I had dashed up the stairs if only I could have been the one in her place. If only I had made it up the stairs on time I could have saved my mother from falling. I could have prevented my wretched aunt from pushing her, but I'm a coward. I couldn't do anything even until this day my aunt terrifies me, just the sight of her makes me tremble.
"Ughhhh" Maryam looks down at the roti dough splitting apart in her arms. She facepalms herself screaming. "Maybe I'm not meant for roti, it's too delicate for me" she folds the dough into a round shape again and leaves it to rest so she can practice with it. She had a look of defeat but she joked around instead, that's how she always covered up for something that bothered her. "Maybe I am just a zaymh," she says jokingly.
(Zaymh: someone that is incapable of doing anything right or considered useless, aka زيمه/ mostly used by Yemenis)
"Maryam you're not a zaymah" I roll my eyes "it takes time, everything takes time"
She looked over at me hopelessly and kept practicing and I hate to say it but not a single one came out right. "Screw it, we're done not a single one came out right, I wasted all this flour for what? a big fail! " she answers her own question
"We didn't fail, we just didn't win today"
She rolls her eyes at my remark "that's literally the same thing"
"No it's not, you don't fail until you decided you're giving up" she started cleaning and I knew that since she didn't have a comeback that my words had reached her or at least she was thinking about them.
"Plus we're not going anywhere today, I made enough for us today" I felt her tensing at the sight of the ruined dough and I saw regret in her eyes
" I'm sorry hadiya"
"Don't be, you're going to pay me back for it with the lessons you have to give me" I remind her of the deal so that she wouldn't feel like she's being a burden.
I saw a slight look of relief on her face and she gives me an agreeing smile "you can bet on that" she said
***
"Are you ready now?" She asked, looking at me like she was about to drop all her knowledge on me. Her mood was much better than before. I think that was one of my favorite things about her, how fast she can change her mood.
"I'm ready" I felt a lot of excitement inside of me.
She started teaching me and I'm not gonna lie I was terrible for the first few tries I couldn't understand a single word. she gave me difficult words or maybe I was just too used to Abbas.
He often used easy words. I realized how easy-going abbas had been, I think he used to simplify the words or use the smaller ones just for me to understand them better. Just so I wouldn't feel like a complete idiot.
I understood now why Miriam kept quiet while I was teaching her how to make roti. I didn't utter a single word when she was teaching me unless she asked me what letters are in the word.
"First you have to learn the 28 letters, it only takes 28 letters to form many sentences, stories, and describe emotions. with just 28 letters you can make a whole language, you learn to read it and write it. "
It's amazing. All it takes to make so many words is just 28 letters. She read some of the letters to show me how they should be pronounced. We shared a few laughs comparing the letters like how ب has its dot under it because it was too heavy to carry but ت showed off in front of it, carrying two dots.
"and then came the big boy," Maryam said. "The ث" carrying 3 dots". She explained really well, she could be a great teacher.
I practiced the few letters she told me while she watched over me.
"Why do you want to learn how to read and write," Maryam asked and it seemed to be out of pure interest. Indisputably, most women in our neighborhood didn't need to learn how to read and write since they would most likely never use it in their lives. Yet we only get to hear our spouses recite the Quran and we recite whatever we learned from our mothers and fathers. I wanted to be able to read it on my own and to read the stories people write in books. "I want to learn how to read books , I can't even read the Quran," it's embarrassing. I hoped she wouldn't ask why I want to learn how to write, I didn't want to tell her it's so that I can write a letter to Abbas.
She continues teaching me how to read and write and she yawns between a few words. Sensing that she was tired I suggested we end the lesson here for today and that I would have more time to practice the letters she taught me. I take some of the papers into my room to memorize more.
Maryam follows shortly after and knocks on my door, she opens it up slightly just enough to see me, I nod allowing her to come in, she moves beside me and gives me a warm hug. "Shukran Hadiya"
I tilt my head slightly not knowing what is there to thank me for since we only made an exchange.
"For everything, it means a lot that I can stay here for some time" she looks over at me with a grateful and embarrassed glance.
"Baiti batish" (my house is your house)
YOU ARE READING
A silent cry
Historical Fiction"and after all this time of waiting the devil would reach out to me and whisper, he's dead and you are here, how much longer will you wait, how much longer would you deny the truth, at some point, I was afraid that he would unlock my ribcage and sen...
