everything [...]
My wish is to leave this country.
•
An hour later I stood at a certain door, ringing the bell. The maid opened to me, and when she saw my appearance she informed me, kindly and politely, that the lady was not at home.
— No matter — I have come to visit you!
Astonishment showed on the poor girl's face, and she grew flustered; then, doubt of my good intentions creeping over her, she said:
— I am comfortable here, ma'am, and I have no intention of leaving my employers' house.
— God forbid that I should have come for that! But listen... I want to learn from you what you wish for in the new year. I won't take much of your time, but if you answer, I'll print your answer in the magazine!... And the ladies will read your name and your family name.
The idea seemed to please her, and she set about tidying her dress and smoothing her hair with her fingertips, as though she supposed I would take her picture for the same purpose... Her eyes sparkled and her lips parted in an innocent smile. Then, after some thought, she said:
— My wish is to save up my wages and buy with them a gold mabrumeh and a gold ring... set with red rubies! That is all I wish!
— Good, that will do. Now tell me your name, your family name, and how old you are.
— My name is Nadia Abdo Nawfal, and I am 13 years old.
— With your leave...
— Goodbye, ma'am!
•
I boarded the tram car back to Ras Beirut, and there I paid a call on Mrs. Samia Dimashqiyah Abu
al-Jibin, who counts among the truly refined ladies of this country. We had not sat long before I told her the real purpose of my visit:
— What are your wishes for the new year?
Pain showed in her green eyes; then she answered:
— And what could I possibly wish for but a solution of the Palestine question in the Arabs' favor? I am pessimistic about the outcome, for the English have declared that it will be reached with the consent of the Jews together with the Arabs (their consent first, of course!) — and what solution could possibly satisfy everyone? That is impossible!..
— And do you wish for anything besides this?
— And I wish that the sons of my country would become orderly, not given to disorder.
I thanked her, bade her farewell, and departed.
•
While I stood at the street corner, a restaurant boy passed me by... I knew him by the plate of hummus borne on the palm of his hand, so I cut across his path and asked him where he worked.
— In that restaurant near the mosque — and my boss is the best foul-cook in town!
— What a charming fellow you are! Come, tell me your name, your age, and what you wish for in the new year.
— Why all these questions? I'm busy; I have no time.
— I won't hold you up — only be quick with your answer. I am the representative of a big magazine, and I'll print your name in it!
— My name is Muhammad Sa'id Qa'di. I am 11 years old, and my pay is 12 liras a week.
— And have you had schooling, Muhammad?
— No. But I go to the American University of Beirut and study in its night school for the unlettered.
— What do you study?
— Yesterday I read Arabic and wrote out my lesson, and the teacher told us he would give us a lesson in arithmetic today.
— And how long will you keep on with these lessons?
— I'll keep learning as long as they are willing to teach me!
— And what is your wish for the new year?
— My wish is to learn reading, writing, and arithmetic, and by then to have gathered a capital from my labors, so I can open a shop of my own (and he pointed to a nearby store).
— Bravo, Muhammad! I shall mention all this in the magazine!
Muhammad smiled a satisfied smile and trotted off with his plate to the restaurant — but back he came running, shouting at me:
— Ma'am! Ma'am! You didn't tell me the name of the magazine and when it comes out, so I can buy it!
I repeated the name to him three times until he had it by heart. And we parted...
•
An evening party last night brought me together with Mrs. Najla Cortas Zureik, wife of Dr. Constantine Zureik, who has assumed the vice-presidency of the American University of Beirut. After we had talked at length of student memories at the College, and compared life here and in America, I turned to her and put the same question. She answered:
I have two wishes. The first may be commonplace from sheer repetition, but I cannot pass it over, for my heart bleeds at its