Hope Valley by Haviva Ner-David

Author:Haviva Ner-David
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Middle East, Israel, Palestinian, Muslim
Publisher: Bedazzled Ink Publishing
Published: 2021-03-31T16:00:00+00:00

TIKVAH

RUBY HAD SHOWN up as planned. The oven technician had come at eight-thirty and was out by nine-fifteen, to Tikvah’s surprise, which left her and Ruby a good two hours of uninterrupted time to discuss her idea before Alon would return from the car mechanic in Afula. She was making coffee for them both in her and Alon’s double espresso machine. She watched the steaming deep-brown liquid dripping simultaneously into the two china espresso cups and realized she was smiling at the sight.

“How do you drink it?” Tikvah asked Ruby, who was standing by the bay windows, looking out at the view of her house in Bir al-Demue across the valley.

Her head scarf today was a cheerful print of bright yellow and purple flowers, which matched her mood. She seemed in especially good spirits this morning. When she had first arrived, Ruby had looked around, examining the inside of the house, asking about what Tikvah and Alon had renovated and what they had preserved from the old structure. Tikvah understood why she was curious, but her possessive attitude made her uncomfortable. Now, though, they would sit and discuss her plan. For the first time in a long time, she felt inspired.

Ruby turned from the window and looked at Tikvah. “Strong and black. Although we call it heavy, not strong, in Arabic. The longer it simmers, the thicker and stronger it gets. It’s a sign of a good host. It means you invested in preparing and were hoping for guests.”

“And I thought Alon was methodical about his morning coffee ritual.” Again, Tikvah thought what a shame it was Ruby’s father and Alon would never meet. She was sure they could have been friends. “Before I met him, I drank instant. You make this espresso machine seem like a convenience.” She glanced over at Ruby. “I take mine with hot goat milk. You don’t want any?”

Ruby shook her head. “I assume you didn’t put any ground cardamom in . . .”

“Nope. Sorry. Next time. You don’t even want sugar? Just espresso? It’s not too bitter for you?”

“Not at all. This is nothing compared to how my father taught me to make sadah.” Ruby’s thin lips curled into a grin. “No matter how much I travelled the world, my coffee habits remained the same as my father’s. When British soldiers came to the bookshop where he worked before the Nakba, he could not believe how much sugar they put in their coffee, he told me.” Her gaze turned back towards the window. “Some things you have to accept as bitter and not try to make them sweet, he used to say. That’s part of life. Yom asal, yom basal. He loved that saying.”

Tikvah brought Ruby’s espresso to the table and then went back to pour hers into a larger ceramic mug and add frothed milk. She would not risk carrying two mugs of coffee with her shakes. “What does it mean?”

“Day of honey, day of onion. It’s just the way life is. At least for my people.

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