I
Reserve the Right to React
It is late Saturday morning. Abdullah’s wife, Safyia, is out shopping with
their youngest daughter Aisha, for school supplies.
Abdullah, who likes to be called Abu Yazan,
makes his own double-double coffee, two teaspoons each of sugar and milk.
Then he goes to the family room, sits down on his favorite rocking chair and
starts sipping and enjoying his coffee.
Saturday’s newspaper, ads, coupons and a stack
of mail are left for him on the side table. He starts skimming through the
headlines, looking, precisely, for the latest news from his birthplace, Syria.
He locates the article, scans it quickly and finds, not surprisingly, nothing
that he doesn't already know. The coverage of the Middle East in the newspaper
is usually about 8 hours old, due to the difference in time zones. Abdallah
heard it and saw it all the night before on Arab satellite TV.
Abdullah shakes his head and takes a quick
glance at the business section to see how the stock market is doing. It’s not
that he ever invested in it. Sometimes his curiosity takes him to the vital
statistics section of the newspaper (divorces/ marriages in the community), but
not today. He folds the newspaper and puts it aside. He lays the ads on top of
the newspaper for now; he will get back to them later. He begins sifting
through the mail. Abdullah used to say the mail here in America is so generous;
your mailbox is always laden with something.
The first letter is from the ACLU asking
Abdullah to donate $50 dollars to help advocate individual rights. He likes that since
he is of Arab origin and he fears for his own civil rights.
Next is a medical bill from You Are in Good
Hands Hospital. It asks him to pay $1078.80. The insurance refused to pay
the full cost of a Denosumab injection for his wife’s osteoporosis.
It only covered 58% of the cost. Abdullah gets very angry, curses the hospital,
the insurance company and does not forget to include Obama Care.
Then, a letter from National Wildlife
Federation with an enclosed ‘Treasures of Wildlife’ calendar pleading with
Abdullah to donate generously to protect endangered species. What about the
endangered Syrian population? Abdullah mumbled to himself.
This postcard is very interesting. In large
print, Abdullah reads
HELP
YOUR SCHOOLS
That does sound like a noble cause. When
reading the fine print, it turns out that Issue 56 is, in fact, to allow
a new casino to open in the neighborhood. The casino would donate a fraction of
its profit to the schools!
Abdullah sees another letter. For the last few months, he has been receiving
this same letter with a membership card enclosed. He loathes this offer because it reminds him
of a reality he refuses to admit, not even to himself, let alone to others.
Abdullah will be 60 years old next month and the AARP
organization is making sure to help him remember. He is getting old.
Abdullah gets to his feet and heads to the
kitchen to refill his mug with more double-double, still hot in the coffee
machine. He comes back to his recliner and commences going through every charge
listed on the Discover card statement. Suddenly, he freezes, his eyes locked on
an online charge of $239.99 from Macy*s Department store; women’s clothing.
Yazan comes down to the living room. He finds
his father, whom he calls ‘Baba’ using the Arabic for Dad, lying on the
recliner, his hands under his head and his legs crossed at the ankles, staring
at the ceiling, and looking very angry. Yazan notices three crumpled papers on
the floor a few feet away from Baba.
Yazan is Abdullah’s favorite son. In fact he is
the only boy among five siblings. Despite his young age of 13, he has become
Abdullah’s confidant.
“What is wrong Baba?”
“Nothing son. Did you do your math homework?”
“Come on Baba! I know you’re upset. You look
miserable. Is it Mama again?”
Abdullah adjusts his recliner, sighs and
explains,
“This time she managed to place an order online.”
“What is wrong with that Baba? Isn’t it
cheaper? No sales tax!”
“How do you know about sales tax?’’
“We learned that back in sixth grade” Yazan
replied proudly.
Abdullah clears his throat and adds, “Well, it
is harder to return an item when purchased online if I object to it.”
“But Baba! You never objected to anything Mama
bought or did!”
“Tell you what son! This time your mother went
overboard. I cannot take it anymore. Every month, she spends money, right and
left, on new outfits. For every occasion, be it a Aqiqah, baby shower, wedding or
the like. She thinks she needs a new outfit
for …”
Yazan, deep in thought; if Mama has one
skirt suit, two pants suits and three blouses, she could then make twenty seven
different outfits. At an average of two events a month to attend, one year
would have to pass before Mama will be seen in the same outfit, and no human
mind would be able to remember. Of course Mama has to keep a log. Yazan is
a boy and is applying his math talent here. Obviously this genius idea
is nonsense for his mama.
“I’ll not tolerate this anymore! I reserve the
right to react!” Abdullah grumbles.
“Baba, talk to her when she comes back!”
“Son! I choose the right time to react and the
way as well!”
Yazan makes a show of thinking, trying to hide
a smile, “Baba! Why don’t you cancel her credit card?”
“Ah no, are you kidding me? That would be a tactical
act,” Abdullah points at a side table “Besides, look at these three
offers, ‘You are pre approved for a credit card with no annual fee’ waiting for
your mother to consider.”
“Baba!”
Yazan thought, “you're now sounding just like the Syria TV after each Israelis’
air attack: We reserve the right to retaliate; we choose the time and the
mean; a reaction now would be considered ‘tactical’” Yazan wanted to
counter Baba but he did not for fear of further irritating his father.
“Baba, Baba!” Yazan warns “They are back; I can
hear the garage door rolling up”
“Okay, Okay son, get these crumpled papers off
the floor.”
With a grin Yazan rushes to pick up the papers,
smoothes them and returns them to Baba.
“Assalamu alaykum Abu Yazan,”
Mama exclaims.
“Assalamu alaykum Baba. I got a new backpack
with Dora’s picture on it!” Aisha yells.
Abdullah, with a fake smile on his face replies,
“Waalaykum assalam, ahlain wasahlain.”
Mama comes into the living room with a 24x36
plastic hanger bag with JC Penny printed on it. A navy blue skirt suit can be
seen in the plastic bag.
“Abu Yazan! You won’t believe it; I saved you a
lot of money today. I bought this great suit that I was waiting to see go on
sale for over a month, and for only a hundred and thirty five dollars.
It was seventy-five percent off, plus an extra ten percent for using my JC Penny
card!” Mama exclaims. “I am so excited and I can’t wait to go up,
put it on and show it to you!”
Mama rushes upstairs. Baba looks at Yazan who
is about to burst out laughing. They both chuckle, keeping their hands over
their mouths.
Yazan starts to leave the room when Baba calls
upon him and asks him to sit down.
“Yazan, son, let me tell you something. A true man, as the Prophet salallahu alayhi wa
salam tells us, is the one who controls himself when angry. He also tells us,
“The best amongst you is the one best towards his wife.”
Abdullah then praised Safyia as being an excellent
wife, a superb mom, a great cook and a wonderful companion. He then adds. “She
has one weakness, though, like all women, the love of shopping and for that …”
Yazan interrupts teasingly, “But Baba, no
offense, you have the same weakness. Look at your wardrobe; you have fifteen
shirts, twenty two trousers, not to mention over thirty neckties, and counting.”
Abdullah hops out of his recliner “It was nice
talking to you this morning Yazan!”
“Sure Baba, I love you!”
Abdullah, hurriedly, heads towards the kitchen
for his
double-double coffee, encore.
