The Girl from Baghdad by Michelle Nouri

breathing of my littlest cousins, already drifting off to sleep, was slowly matched by the others, who followed, as if a spell had been cast over them. I spied the older kids still awake. The slight snore of some of the adults was funny. We were so close, all tight. Everyone was peacefully united by that sweet afternoon nap. From above, my family took the shape of a single animal with several heads, legs and arms. Indivisible.
    Toward nightfall, the call of the muezzin invited another ritual. Extending our rug in the direction of Mecca, we kneeled, and the little ones, imitating thegestures of the grown-ups, repeated the prayers of the Koran. I usually prayed with my cousins, covering my hair with a veil. I had never entered the mosque where my more religious cousins went, but I had been told about the splendid gardens. Like almost all Sunni families, we didn’t go to the mosques regularly.
    When we weren’t chasing each other from one room to another, my cousins and I gossiped about clothes, jewels and acquaintances. Nothing that happened in our busy family life seemed to escape my cousins. They never worried themselves about the war, but they were really up-to-date about what other family members or some distant nephew did. Above all, they kept up with the drama of the most controversial family member of all: Aunt May.
    They said a bunch of things about Aunt May. She was Kassid’s wife and Dad’s sister-in-law. I could tell the aunts didn’t have great sympathy for her. I found her beautiful. But this wasn’t something one could admit aloud, at least not in front of Aunt Kasside.
    Mum sat with the others, even if she didn’t participate in their discussions. She always maintained that she didn’t like to put her nose in other people’s business. Once she gestured at me to come closer. It was snack time and freshly baked bread with cheese was on offer. I remained to enjoy it, listening to the women.
    Aunt Elham was talking about May again. ‘She thinks she’s so important, just because she works forSaddam’s government. You should hear the attitude she gets when she talks about him: “I saw Saddam”, “I spoke with Saddam”, as if she were his friend! She’s really sassy! And you all remember when she told the story about how the leader himself gave her a new car.’
    â€˜May says he even gave her a house before she married our brother. I always knew that their marriage would be no good. Ever since he married her, nobody ever sees Kassid anymore. It’s almost as if he has forgotten he has a family and a mother. Poor Bibi … how he betrays you!’ Kasside exclaimed, bringing a hand to her mouth and raising her eyes to the sky, as if it were something very scandalous. Then she would glance at Bibi, who was seated imperiously like an empress on a throne. Although Grandma hardly ever spoke, she followed the conversation without missing a beat. When she agreed with Kasside, as in this case, she nodded with austere eyes and squeezed her cane.
    â€˜Poor Kassid. We should have convinced him to leave her when we had the chance. There was still time …’ Ahlam added timidly.
    â€˜Yes, but that manipulative woman complained directly to Saddam and he was forced to go back to her,’ Elham added. ‘Who does she think she is? Just because she has a career certainly doesn’t mean she’s better than us. We work too.’
    â€˜And at least we take care of our houses and our children. Not like May, who only thinks of herself. She doesn’t care about how her children grow up, or how they’re raised,’ continued Kasside. ‘She even chose which school to send them to without listening to Bibi’s opinion. My poor mother!’ She launched another look towards Grandma, who nodded again.
    May was definitely one of their favourite topics; they reserved the worst and most fervent spite for her. However, when she came