Daughters of Iraq Read Online Free

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    Children played outside, and the laughter made Farida forlorn. She remembered other days. For a moment there was a strained silence between the two women. Each seemed to be remembering: a house buoyant with life, crammed with people. So much had changed in recent years, leaving both of them yearning for the past.
    Of Farida’s children, Sigali had married and left the house first; then Oren got married. Sigali had two children before leaving her husband. “It killed me,” she had said, “that he wasn’t doing anything with his life.” Oren lived in Nahariya and rarely visited. Sigali lived near Aunt Farida, and whenever one of her kids got sick, she brought the child over. But most of the time Sigali was busy with her own affairs; she was a single mother, and it wasn’t easy. And Uncle Moshe . . . Uncle Moshe had died two years ago. Only Farida remained, and being alone was not easy for her.
    For many years, Uncle Moshe was out of work, and the family lived off social security. Moshe suffered from what we call shell shock. He had left for war as a confident man and returned shattered, unable to transcend the trauma. From conversation fragments gleaned over years, Noa collected an assortment of images, and from those images she pieced together the complete story.
    Uncle Moshe had fought in Sinai. He was the platoon’s cook, and one morning he woke from a dreadful dream, soaked in sweat. In his dream, all the men in his unit were killed in a surprise attack by the Egyptians. Uncle Moshe had just climbed out of his sleeping bag and was looking for a quiet spot to urinate and calm his nerves when the bombing started. His friends didn’t even make it out of their sleeping bags; only Uncle Moshe found shelter, and he was saved. When it was all over, he realized his nightmare had become a horrific reality.
    Uncle Moshe’s life, and the lives of everyone in his family, would never be the same after the Yom Kippur War. He couldn’t hold a job. Some nights he screamed and cried in his sleep; other nights he couldn’t sleep at all. Aunt Farida loved her family fiercely and strove to maintain a sense of normalcy for Uncle Moshe and their kids. She ministered to him, and made sure his children respected him. Two years ago, Uncle Moshe’s heart could no longer carry the burden of all those memories, and he died. Farida was left alone.
    “ Ya’allah ,Noa, start eating,” Farida urged. “The food is getting cold, and you haven’t even touched it. Eat already, before it cools and becomes jifa —nobody wants rotten food. Now, tell your Aunt Farida a little about Noa: how is she doing, and when will she get married already, with God’s help?”
    “Really, Aunt Farida,” Noa said, her mouth full. “Get married? Who exactly do you suggest I marry? I don’t even have a serious boyfriend. You know Barak and I broke up.”
    “Do I know? Of course I know. Okay, I’ll tell you the truth. You want the truth?” Farida hoped Noa would be willing to listen to her. Farida had a strong opinion on the issue—she had strong opinions on every issue—and it was hard to keep her thoughts to herself.
    “Sure, I want the truth—why not?” Noa said, laying her fork on her plate. She knew nothing would keep her aunt from voicing her thoughts about Barak. She looked at her and waited.
    “He’s all wrong for you,” Farida said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “He loves himself too much, what can I tell you? You need someone who loves you more than he loves himself. This young man is killing you.”
     “Right.” Noa smiled. There was no ambiguity in Aunt Farida’s outlook on the world; there was right, and there was wrong. “In the meantime, I’m kissing a lot of frogs,” she said with a wink, “until I find a real prince.”
    “I pity those boys when you’re around,” Farida laughed. “Do they know they’re just frogs in your eyes?” Her plump arms fell to her sides. “So some day, one of these frogs will