Other Homes

When I was a child, I was allways dreaming of sneaking in other homes.. Being in other lives without being seen.

Other homes smell others.

I still have this temptation whenever I see a curtain flying out of a window. I want to be a part of that wind and blow in.

Once upon a time there was a home in Muharraq town. They called it the house of of Shaikh Isa. He lived there with all the servants and his family.

Because at this very once upon a time there were no air conditioners, the house had a wind tower that let the hot blow out and the cool breeze blow in.

Whether they had happy or anxious nights in their rooms, noone can tell anymore.. since the wind tower blew out the smell of the home long ago

but the beautiful stone and wood carvings remained..

As for the house of Umm A where lives the children and grandchildren together, it was visited happily on a beatiful afternoon in Hammad town.

Do they have happy nights and days in there? The warm smiles talk..

Guests are more than welcome, offered great food, chai and yelwo coffee (arabian coffee boiled with cardamom) served in small, delicate mirra cups without handles.

and when the guests are finished with the warm chat, the generous food and drinks, according to the tradition comes a tray of fragrances. All the newest fashion fancy ones(mine had Escada, J'adore etc..) and the old traditional arabic essence oil that will be left to the table.

Where at the end comes buhur(the incensory) in which willl be added Udd, that the guest is kindly asked to turn inside outside her cloths and all around the hair.

This way.. although others homes smell others.. the outsider will happily smell "others" after the visit.

As if happily belonging to the house..

As if .. accepted.
As if.. there were.. no others.