Letters from Palestine: Consolation

Bassam Jamil

I look at a neighbour’s shop, and I watch this neighbour who goes to great lengths with his children to prepare meals in his modest kitchen.

He moves in a small space waiting for one of his sons to start working. A relative, who brings unpleasant news, surprises him and informs him of the death of a relative.

He pours water on his face, and stands in front of the small shop looking at the road separating us. He seems absent-minded, waiting.

A few minutes pass, I still can’t understand the sounds coming from the nearby Masjid in the camp, I try to listen to make sure “people are called in the event of the death of a resident to inform them of the date of burial” but I can’t tell, unfortunately this is the old microphone they use.

One of my neighbor’s sons arrives, and his father informs him of the news. They ex- change looks sadly. It looks confusing, the store hasn’t closed yet. One of the men, followed by others, tells him to leave but he refuses before he distributes the tasks to them, and then goes home.

Maybe he will start arranging burials, mourning, and taking care of his family.

He does not prolong the absence, returns with a sad face, tries to gather his strength, and goes to the small kitchen to continue with one of his sons preparing food.

Many families rely on the meals provided by this small kitchen to be their main meal at breakfast after a long fasting day.

Several hours passed, food was distributed, and my neighbour left to accept condolences. Tomorrow is a new day, in which he will spend his day preparing food for those in need, and in the evening he will stand in the funeral hall.

He offers condolences with food to the poor, and receives it with kind words and supplications.

Bassam Jamil is a Palestinian novelist and storyteller, with a total of four literary publications, and many articles published in Arab newspapers.