Habibi by Naomi Shihab Nye

Author:Naomi Shihab Nye [Nye, Naomi Shihab]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Juvenile Fiction, People & Places, United States, Other, Social Issues, New Experience, General
ISBN: 9781439115190
Google: exRGFtYDL3AC
Amazon: 0689825234
Publisher: Simon Pulse
Published: 1999-06-02T04:00:00+00:00

When Liyana’s aunt had to go to the hospital because her legs swelled up, Sitti said they swelled “because she has such a big and heavy head.”

When Poppy told her that had nothing to do with it, she said, “What do you know? Your head is normal sized.”

If a bird pooped on a clean white sheet while flying over the clothesline, that meant bad luck. But if it pooped on your head, that meant your first child would be a boy.

Sitti wouldn’t wear socks because cold feet would help her live longer. She thought Liyana should stop wearing socks, but Liyana couldn’t stand it.

Sitti perceived messages everywhere. You will soon go on a long journey to a place hotter than this place. Beware of a bucket.

Liyana liked this stuff. She made a whole new notebook for it.

Poppy said he became a doctor because he grew up with such superstitious people. “They drove me crazy,” he told Liyana in private. “I had to balance them out.”

“Do you believe in heaven?” Liyana asked Sitti on the day of their interview, and she answered quickly, “Of course. It’s full of fresh fruit.” They took a short break to slice three Jericho oranges in half and share them. Sitti closed her eyes when she swallowed. Then she bustled around the room, muttering, sweeping the windowsill with her short-handled broom, straightening the bags of rice and flour and sugar on her shelves. She pulled a few strands of long hair out of her pink comb.

“What’s she saying now?” Liyana asked.

Poppy said, “I think she’s reciting the bees passage from the Koran.”

Liyana sang out, “Ho!” to get her attention again.

Sitti jumped. “Sit down!” Liyana begged her. “Please! Min-fad-lick co’dy hone!” It was one of the first phrases she’d learned.

Liyana asked Sitti to tell more about her dreams at night and she said, with a mournful expression, “I dream of all the hard times I had in this life. And how mean the Jewish soldiers act to us. They don’t even know who we are! And I dream of the way I felt when my most beautiful and beloved son,” she paused dramatically, staring at Poppy, “went so far away from me I couldn’t even see the tip of his shadow.”

Liyana’s father liked this conversation less and less.

Sitti ordered Poppy to give money to the poor before she died and more money to the grave digger and the women who washed her body. She insisted the people who buried her should leave lots of space in her grave so she could sit up to talk to the angels. She didn’t like to talk to anyone lying down.

Liyana laughed out loud, but Poppy stood up, rubbed his hands together over the fire, and said, “Let’s do something else.”

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