The Child's Story: Pampered

Salwa woke from sleep, opening her eyes heavily. When she saw the sun shining into the middle of the room and touching the edge of the wardrobe, she started up suddenly and sat up in her bed: it must be about nine o'clock now — she was very late for school. There they do not pamper her and obey her orders as they do at home, nor do they care that she is an only daughter! Instead they punish her without mercy. So she hurried to put on her stockings and her shoes with trembling hands, her heart pounding. But after a moment she suddenly let go of her shoe, which fell to the floor, and lay back on the bed, laughing at herself and stretching: today was the first day of the holiday vacation — how had she forgotten that? A heavy burden had lifted from her now! She would be happy all through this vacation and do just as she pleased, because everyone in the house, her family and the servants, pampered her; and if her mother refused her something, she would ask it of her father, who never refused her a request.

And tonight her uncle would arrive from a long journey. There would be an evening party to welcome him. Her parents had invited the family and their friends. Whenever he came back from a journey he stayed with them, bringing each of them a wonderful present. Her heart filled with joy; she put on her clothes and went to the kitchen, where Farida the cook was making the sambousek dough. Farida said to her, smiling:

— Good day to you, apple of my eye — bless that sweet face! I've set out milk with coffee for you in the dining room.

— I don't want milk with coffee.

— What do you want, then?

— I want... a labneh 'bride.'

She finished what pleased her of her bread and threw away the rest, then went back to the kitchen:

— I want to help you.

Farida said to her:

— Bless those two little hands! I have no work for you just now. Go out to the garden, and when I begin the kaak I'll call you.

Salwa went out to the garden, sulking, and near the kitchen door she saw a big crate made of boards set apart from one another. She put her head in at the kitchen door and asked Farida what was in the crate. She answered:

— I don't know. The porter set it down here, and your mother charged me that no one is to touch it.

Salwa paid no heed to Farida's words. What did it matter if she opened the crate just a little?

So she untied the thick cord that bound the lid and lifted it — and there in the crate were several rabbits, little ones and big ones. How lovely they were! Lifting their ears, working their mouths, looking at her with their round red eyes. Suddenly a big rabbit leapt out of the crate, and another rabbit leapt out too. Salwa hurried to put the lid back and fastened the crate, then set off running through the garden after the two rabbits, and called Farida and Zahra, and her mother came too. Each rabbit went off in a different direction, hiding among the plantings and then appearing again; at last one of them jumped over the low wall into the neighbors' garden, and the second vanished

as though the jinn had snatched him away.

Farida went back to the kitchen to finish her work — and then her cry went up:

— The cat has eaten the sambousek meat!

Salwa's father came home for lunch, and when they sat down at the table the mother began telling him what had happened with the rabbits that morning. He tried to defend his daughter, saying:

— Her love of finding things out...

— Her love of finding things out? You said that when she took the alarm clock apart and ruined it to see how it runs. You are always spoiling her and you never refuse her a request. The cup has run over: she is not staying up with us tonight; she will go to bed at eight o'clock.

Then he seated her close beside him, and began serving her all the good kinds of 'mezze.'

A little later Salwa slipped down from her chair and followed Zahra to the kitchen:

— Did my uncle bring presents?

— Yes.

— Where are they?

— I don't know; your mother took them.

Salwa went straight to her mother's room and switched on the electric light. Nothing on the table, nothing on the seat, nothing on the bed... Ah — in the wardrobe. She opened the wardrobe: there, on the top shelf, were two boxes. In the first were a leather handbag and a pair of gloves for her mother, so she put it back in its place and opened the second, which was bigger than the first. Her heart danced with delight when she saw what she had wished for from the bottom of her heart: a toy table service of beautiful white porcelain — the flat plates and the hollow plates, the soup tureen, the little oblong dishes for olives and cheese, and the tiny salt cellar.

Just then she heard footsteps coming toward her mother's room; she grew flustered, her hands shook, and the box fell to the floor with a great crash, and the plates shattered into a thousand pieces.

Salwa woke to the sound of talk and laughter and the clatter of plates and glasses. She remembered that tonight was the evening party to welcome her uncle. She had been made to eat her supper early and go to bed at eight o'clock, before the guests arrived. She was still fuming, wishing she might somehow take her revenge.

Suddenly an idea comes to her: she will watch the party in spite of her mother's order! She jumps out of her bed, throws a coat over her shoulders, and slips into the dining room by the door that opens onto the kitchen, where the servants come in, and sits in a corner in the shadow of the big buffet, where she can see everything and no one takes notice of her.

Suddenly they all burst out laughing together, because her uncle has told a joke she did not understand — but she laughs along with them, so happy is she just to be there...

Now her father sees her:

— Salwa, you here?

— I just woke up and I don't feel like sleeping.

Her mother wanted to send her back to her bed, but her uncle interceded with her mother and said, after kissing Salwa:

— Let her stay up with us — 'for my sake.'