However, for him my request sounded as if I wanted to prevent him from making a living, disrupting his gains. His looks and voice felt as if a blade was penetrating my soul, “Go to hell! I don’t want you anymore”, he shouted at me. I stepped back feeling a lot of hatred. I took out of my pocket the two pounds that he gave me and I threw them at him and ran away. I stopped and watched him cursing me, “Nasty boy!” he shouted. When he entered into the shop to continue his work, I ran inside the house. I could not explain to anyone what had happened. It was really annoying me, the fact that I had wasted the first day of the Eid holiday without getting any entertainment and losing the money earned. When I was a child, I used to run up to the roof whenever I felt upset, I made a mistake or I caused a catastrophe. I knew that my mother would think about climbing the stairs after me tens of times without daring to do so. The roof was wide, and she knew that I would have run in every direction to escape, and thus she abstained from going there to avoid a waste of time and not managing to catch me. I did not imagine that the day would end up like this. For three days, I had been thinking about the severed head with anxiety and fear that faded away when the first group of children started to say with astonishment how someone approached the head and put a sweet in its mouth. I was thinking, “How could I miss this chance? How could I not see Osman’s head?”, but Abo Fidaa would have not forgiven me for having thrown my pay at his face and he would not have allowed me inside the shop. I also never thought about apologizing to him and I thought that Abo Fidaa was a criminal who had cut the head of a boy from Sudan and he had brought it to Damascus to show it to children to get their money. Nonetheless, I was still angry and curios because all of the other children had seen it thanks to my efforts, while, at that point, I was sitting alone on the roof above the shop, watching the youngsters getting out with astonished faces, repeating extraordinary facts about Osman and what he had sung, eaten and done.
I sadly lowered my eyes, and “Oh, my God! There it was! There was the chimney above the shop!” I moved as fast as lightening and I reached its top. It came out right over the box, on the opposite corner from the audience. It was covered with a dirty and blackened piece of cloth. I did not care. I moved it and looked down. Suddenly, I figured out the secret of the business. I saw Osman’s head sticking out of the hole in the box, while his body was hiding behind it. “Oh, my God! Osman was only a child!” I thought. The colour of his skin was the same as ours, but his face was painted black. Abo Fidaa was a cheater, I suddenly realized. I did not think for a long time. The happiness coming from my discovery was incredible. The only thing that I could think of was revealing his trick and recovering my respect. I went down to the kitchen, filled a big jug with water, returned fast to the chimney and poured the water over Osman’s head. I then waited and watched. Osman jumped up and showed his wet body to the children. Laughs and screams followed my act of pride. The children that were there shouted, “He’s a child! A child like us! Liar! Liar! A severed head! Oh! Oh!” At that point, I could not escape anywhere, as the roof was my permanent shelter. The joy of having revealed Abo Fidaa’s secret was incredible for me. Abo Fidaa went out of the shop like a crazy man, while shouting, cursing and threatening the children. Their laughs and sarcasm made him take his box and leave the shop. He did not dare knocking at our door as usual. Actually, I was sad to see Osman walking behind him completely wet, but I was happy that I found out that he was not a severed head. My mother lost the money of the rent and I lost two pounds of the Eid’s first day of work. Thirty-four years have passed from that day, but the joy for the victory against Abo Fidaa is still present. And where are you now Abo Fidaa? Come and see the heads being cut in Syria on the cry of “AllahuAkbar” while groups of children are watching. Translated by: Farah Al-Shihawi Edited by: Laura Berlingozzi
By Maan Alhasbane
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