FEMALE ELDERS

“Had we known the solution to saving the Roman Empire, we would be in a better position to save our looks. But if the empire could not stop from falling, how are we to stop our breasts from doing the same?” Um Omar asks the other women elders in the village one evening.[1] This is one of many lighthearted conversations that take place in Palestinian women’s circles. However, not everyone is as vocal or straightforward as Um Omar, an eighty-eight-year-old mother of five who never has had any type of formal education.

“May God have mercy on my father, who did not teach me how to read,” she says.

Um Omar was twenty-four years old when she married her one and only husband. But she was not the first wife. She was the second wife to a man who was eighteen years her senior. Um Omar blends in with the village’s culture, although a change of clothes could make her appear to be a visitor. Her gray hair, once as golden as summer’s wheat, is now fully covered with a mandeela (headscarf). The blue pigment in her eyes matches the sky stone of heaven, lapis lazuli. Her round white face highlights her bright-red cheeks. She is a wonderful mother to her children, who all but one inherited their father’s dark skin and brown eyes.

Um Omar has fond memories of her marriage and talks about her husband’s first wife as if she were naturally part of the landscape. “For our honeymoon he took me to Beirut for one whole month.” This line she occasionally repeats throughout the conversation, as if it just happened a month ago. The first wife lives in one room of the house, and Um Omar has her own room. “He always met the call of duty with me. He never fell short of providing for me.” It wasn’t until years later, after enough money was earned, that she had her own house and he lived with her permanently.

Um Omar has an incredibly good-humored laugh that can be recognized anywhere, without seeing her in person. She immerses herself in every story she tells, playing the role of each character. It is as if she is standing behind the curtain of each scene, watching and simultaneously describing what is going on. She adds her own commentary as she sees fit. There are many storytellers in the village but few who can command the room’s attention as Um Omar does.

“Let me tell you something,” she says to the women elders, interrupting her own story and recalling details of another. “Khalid was a mule for doing what he did. The worms of vinegar are of the vinegar itself.[2] His whole family should not be spoken to because of his actions.”

[1] Um means ‘mother of’ in Arabic.  Abu means ‘father of’ in Arabic.  It is traditional to address a Palestinian or Arab parent as the mother or father of the oldest son’s name.

[2] This is an Arabic proverb that suggests that one family member’s actions are a reflection of the entire family.