It is said that my grandfather, Ghareeb Jabur Al Saddawi, a silversmith, owned a shop on River Street in Baghdad. And every year, he made the long journey to Egypt to sell his creations.
He was so skilled that if you found one of his silver cigarette cases at the bottom of the river, the cigarettes would still be dry.
Should you happen to meet him, he would demonstrate his strength to you by lifting a cow.
He would speak to you in Arabic, English, French, German, Persian or Mandaic. And he’d sing you a song, in the most mellifluous voice. But he was also very shy, and didn’t talk much.
He would sweeten his tea with dates. And bring back gifts for all his children.
This isn’t fact or fiction. This is memory.
Dear Jidou,
Which route did you take to Egypt? This one?
Or this one?
Did you gaze at this horizon?
How about this horizon?
Did you stop for a laffa (sandwich) at Happy Time restaurant?
If you were still alive today, maybe you wouldn’t have to travel so far to sell your silver. Would you have a shop at Mansour Mall?
I found this silver cigarette case at the bottom of the Tigris river or in an antique shop.
Did you make it?
The cigarettes were still dry.
Love,
Nadine