Once Upon an Eid by S. K. Ali

Author:S. K. Ali
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Abrams
Published: 2020-05-05T00:00:00+00:00

“Eid Mubarak! How are you, sweetie?” One of Mama’s friends moves toward me through the dense crowd on the lawn of the Islamic center. She’s draped in a bright turquoise shawl, and her daughter, clutching her hand, is decked out in a glittery gold getup and matching cat ears. It’s like a sea of colors as everyone moves around the lawn and greets each other with smiles, and the bronze dome of the mosque glints in the sunlight. Auntie gives me a big hug.

“Eid Mubarak, Auntie.” I return to the station by the side of the community building, where I’m helping to ladle bowls of Nani’s korma—the savory stew she cooked for more than five hours—and pass them out. We got here extra early, well before the first prayer, so we could set up the food in an outdoor kitchen area.

“How are your parents?” Auntie asks. “Did you talk to them today?”

“Not yet. But they texted and said they finished Hajj.”

“Mubarak! You must be so proud.”

“I am,” I say, and I mean it. Last night before bed we all talked about the few things my parents still have to do before they leave, which include Baba shaving his head today. It’s going to be so funny to see him when he gets home in two days.

“Do you want some?” I hold out a bowl of korma to Auntie.

“Is it spicy?” She hesitates to take it.

“Not too much. It’s really good.” I tasted it, and it’s honestly the best I’ve ever had. Nani made sure to grind up the onions in the entire batch so Ismail wouldn’t find a single one, and she cooked a small separate pot without bones for Ayla. We all agreed it was delicious, even the future vegetarian.

“Thank you.” Auntie takes the bowl and a piece of naan.

As she dips the bread into the sauce and takes a bite, I watch her face transform.

“Oh my. This is incredible.”

“I know.” I’ve handed out at least thirty bowls so far, and it’s been the same reaction each time. One man came back for three servings, and then he asked Nani for her recipe. She said she makes it with love but didn’t reveal anything else. No one is getting her secret ingredients.

“Go play now, Humza.” Nani comes up behind me and puts a hand on my back. “You’ve helped for a long time.” I’ve been here for almost two hours, while Ayla and Ismail ran off to the bounce houses with their friends after about fifteen minutes.

“I’m okay,” I say, surprised to hear myself say it. But it’s been fun to hang out with my grandmother and her crew. They’ve been chatting, teasing each other, and making wisecracks all day, which reminds me of how I am with my best friends from Sunday school, Sami and Qasim. They stopped by earlier but already left for a party.

“Okay.” Nani squeezes my shoulder, and I can tell she’s pleased as she winks at me. “You’re always a good helper, Masha’Allah.”

“Eid Mubarak,” an older auntie whose name I forgot says to us as she approaches.

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