MANSUR
March 12th 1994
I always enjoyed our family vacations to the village a little bit more than I was supposed to. We used to travel every holiday to my parent's village where we would spend about three weeks before coming back to the dear old city.
This morning however, Abba insisted that this year we remain at home. We never bothered to ask him his reason for cancelling our holiday. We simply accepted his decision; asking him why would be like poking a hibernating bear with a stick.
Umma came into my room later that day, carrying my freshly laundered clothes. She was wearing her long sleeve black gown with her scarf tied loosely around her head.
"Hadari yana hadowa (A storm is coming)." she said, placing the clothes down on my bed. "Thank you." I said, reaching for the clothes.
