A Flock of Birds
Ouzounian Street, Nicosia, Cyprus, October 23rd 1969
Ferida
So that’s me. I’m dead. Me. Ferida. Iskender’s sister. Everyone’s Umme. That’s me huddled at the foot of the bed looking like I’m about to climb off. Yes – you thought everyone died peacefully in their sleep looking as if they were about to float down a river with their hair undone. Well not me.
I had a fight with death at the very end. Saw it coming, didn’t mind, relaxed into its arms and then remembered where I had put the dolma scoop. You see, you need a long smooth instrument to scoop a courgette out cleanly. Tomorrow it’s dolmas for lunch and as I felt myself slip from life – before I had entered the tunnel of bright light – I remembered the scoop. It was up on the roof where I’d caught the kids using it
