[ Thursday, December 07, 2006 ]
Shame"You should put your cheera on your head. You're going to catch a cold."
"No!" I yell in my head. "I don't want to because 1) I wear hijab all day long and want to be able to give my head a rest when I get home at the end of the day; 2) I know this is probably another one of your superstitions; and 3) I don't want to get into another argument with you about how it's a cultural understanding, not a religious one, that requires covering the head at home." But instead, I just frown and say, "I already have a cold." I'm too tired to make any real arguments at this point.
"You know, the house is really dirty," she tells me, and I brace myself for the long list I know she is going to rattle off to me—and then repeat. She starts by telling me about the chores she has accomplished that day, such as doing the laundry, part of which was washing Daddy's jacket. I can feel myself tuning out at this point. She ignores my obvious boredom and silence and continues now talking about how the outside of the house is so messy. At this point, I can feel the irritation boiling up within me and I know that any minute now, I'm going to yell about how I don't care. About how I have final exams to worry about—about how I need to memorize anatomy terms, catch up on Genetics, and start studying for my ethnobotany class. I'm tired and hungry, and I'm impatient to finish dinner and get some work done.
But then I hear her explain that earlier today, she was outside in front of the house raking leaves off the sidewalk. Mrs. F, the neighbor from a couple of houses down, stopped to talk to her on her way to the visit our other neighbor. I'm all ears now. Mrs. F saw her struggling and helped her pick up the bundles of leaves to dump into the green compost bin.
And as Ummy tells me this, I start to feel ashamed. I am grateful that we have such nice neighbors, but also sad that my mom would have to rely on someone else to help her. Because no one else was home. Because even when we are home, we are never really present. Because I finally understand that she isn't just listing off chores that she has accomplished through the day—chores that I am arrogant and ungrateful enough to deem insignificant.
I finish the vegetables on my plate, and tell her that the soup is yummy, but is once again too spicy for me to eat. She made it yesterday but Daddy didn't like it and left it unfinished at the table, so she added more spices and vegetables to it today to make it tastier. I keep telling her about how great the vegetables tasted, but it's no use. The damage is done.
She puts her salad fork down and gives up on dinner when she sees that Daddy is still not coming to the dinner table. "Five more minutes," he keeps insisting, as he listens to the radio program about Palestine. I can hear it blaring from his bedroom, and I refuse to feel guilty about eating without him. But Ummy does. "I've been cooking since 4pm, and I just wanted us to have dinner all together." She sighs.
Sometimes I think we're each living in our own worlds.
1 comments
1 Comments:
Your post makes me feel guilty about a very similiar incident at my house. =/ My mom was gone for a while and I missed her so much, and thought how much I should appreciate her. It was all fresh and good when she came back. Now it's been a while, so when she's listing off chores I have to remind myself, aggresively, how grateful I should be for her being around.
BTW, I'm glad you're posting more..YAY! Hope you do great on your exams.
