In the Mornings, they awoke to the distant bleating of sheep and the high- pitched toot of a flute a Gull Adman’s shepherds led their flock to graze on the grassy hillside. Miriam and Nana milked goats, fed hens, and collected eggs. They made bread together. Nana taught her to sew too, and cook rice and all the different toppings: shalom stew with turnip, spinach Saab’s, cauliflower with ginger.
Nana made no secret of her dislike for visitors and, in fact, people in general, but she made exceptions for a select few. And so there was Gull Adman’s leader, the village Arab, Habit Khan, a small-headed, bearded man with a large belly who came by once a month or so, tailed by a servant, who carried a chicken, sometimes a pot of Karachi rice, or a basket of dyed eggs, for Miriam. Then there was a rotund, old woman that Nana called Bibb joy, whose late husband had been a stone carver and friends with Nana’s Father.
Don’t waste your time!
Order your assignment!
Bibb joy was invariably accompanied by one of her way across the clearing and made great show of rubbing her hip and lowering herself, with a pained sigh, onto the chair that Nana pulled up for her. Bibb joy too always brought Miriam something, a box of dishelmed candy, a basket of quinces. For Nana, she first brought complains about her failing health, and then gossip from Heart and Gull Adman, delivered at length and with gusto as her daughter-in-law sat listening quietly and dutifully behind her.