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Since
Sara’s unfortunate first marriage, when she was brutalized
at the hands of a cruel husband, everyone in our family is
determined to offer Sara unconditional physical protection.
Nura
moved forward to shield Sara, but she was not as fast as her
youngest sister.
I
stepped in front of Sara just as Faten’s hand reached out
for her.
I
felt a sharp tug on my face.
The crazy Bedouin woman had twisted my nose!
I
had once heard my father say that, “He that does not make a
Bedouin fear him, will soon fear the Bedouin.”
Quite obviously, this woman would understand nothing
but force.
As
Faten reached out to twist my nose once more, I gave a loud
cry as I leapt toward her.
It
has been years since I was involved in any kind of physical
altercation, but my years of childhood fighting with the much
larger Ali had taught me to make my moves swift and certain.
I am too small to long outlast a big woman like Faten.
I moved quickly to get a stranglehold on her neck,
forcing her backwards onto the floor.
I tripped on my long skirt and fell on top of my
opponent.
The
other Bedouin women obviously hated Faten, for they did
nothing to help her; rather, they laughed and cheered me
on.
One
woman shouted, “Oh, Princess!
Poke out her eyes!”
Another
encouraged me, “Twist her neck!”
My
sisters became hysterical with fear that the vicious Faten
would get the best of their baby sister. Their screams
resonated through the small tent.
Faten
managed to scrape a handful of sand from the floor, and tossed
it into my face/
Blinded,
I pulled Faten’s hair until her hands clawed the air as she
pleaded for Allah’s mercy.
For
good measure I pounded her head twice on the hard earth, then
rose to my feet.
While brushing off my skirt, I offered the greatest
insult I could think of, “This is how you welcome your
guests?”
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