The Couscous Chronicles by Azzedine T. Downes

Author:Azzedine T. Downes
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Disruption Books
Published: 2023-07-15T00:00:00+00:00

DEATH AND THE TAXI

I walked over right away to see if the shopkeeper’s sons were at the shop so I could offer condolences. The true home of the three men was in the mountains, and like Abdullah the security guard, they visited the village once a year. The three men had no home in the city but lived in the shop. When it was time to close up shop, they made beds in the very back and slept there with their father. It seemed a sad existence, but they always had smiles on their faces. I suppose their lifestyle was not all that different from many men living away from their families in order to send money home.

The boys were sitting in the shop now, and I relayed my condolences and told them that Nadia had just given me the sad news. They thanked me and said that it was good timing that I arrived just then, because they were about to take their father home to the village. In Islamic tradition, the deceased are buried within twenty-four hours of passing, and there is little time for preparations. Visits to the family often take place after the burial occurs.

Awkward questions can be forgiven when ignorance of traditions is the cause, and living in the constant state of being a foreigner allows license. So I asked the boys what needed to be done and if I could help somehow in this difficult time. They expressed appreciation for the gesture, but the taxi beside me was there to take them home to the village.

I didn’t know the word for “hearse,” so I awkwardly asked where their father was.

Without hesitating, one of the sons pointed to the taxi. “My father will come home with us,” he said. Sure enough, in the back seat of the taxi sat the corpse of their father.

The boys climbed into the taxi and waved goodbye as I stood there trying to process what I had just seen. This could not possibly be normal, even in Yemen. Yet people were passing by as they drove off, and no one seemed to take any particular notice. It was not just the fact that their dead father was in the taxi that struck me as odd, but that he was sitting up.

Getting back to the village before sunset was the priority, and a taxi was the best way to adhere to the Islamic practice. The boys had done their best.

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