The Essence of Noah (Muslim story)

Albi

My shower doesn't last long, probably no more than seven minutes, before I hear loud knocks on the door, suggesting that Baba is up. I rub my face a couple of times, before twisting the tap knobs and watching the water drain at my feet. I shake my body slightly, letting thick droplets fall to the tiled ground as I reach for a towel to wrap around my body. Baba knocks on the door again, this time speaking groggily, "Yel-la."

Baba has the tendency to mix Arabic with English whenever he speaks. I don't think I've ever heard him say a complete sentence in either language without including a foreign word. It mostly happen when he's at a loss for the right word, and most of the time, the vocabulary is quite simple, like 'Baba', 'binti', 'eh-dah' and in English, 'you know...?', 'what do you call...?' 'I mean...' Mum and I are used to it, I've learnt to speak bits of Arabic here and there when talking to Baba, but mum doesn't really bother learning, she says she "doesn't have a use for it" and she's right. Mum hardly ever sees anyone from Baba's side of the family, and when they do meet, they make do with the English both parties can share and understand.

I get dressed quickly and gather my laundry in my hands as I open the bathroom window to clear up the steam before exiting. Baba's not in the hallway anymore, but I can hear his voice from the kitchen.

"Do you want shai?" Mum asks as I walk past the kitchen and to the laundry. Shai. The only reason mum uses that word is because she thinks its sounds better than 'tea' or 'cuppa'.

"Yeah." Baba replies as I place my clothes in the laundry hamper and step back in the kitchen. "Sabah al-khair."

"Sabah al-noor." I reply as I reach for a glass from the shelf above the sink. My Arabic is a mess of a thick Aussie accent and jumbled Masri dialect.

"All ready to go then, Baba?" I fill the glass from the tap and turn around.

"Mhmm." I drink the water and splash out the remaining droplets into the sink and place the cup upside on the drying rack. Mum places the shai on the table in front of Baba and sits in the chair I had my cereal at and flips through the Advertiser.

My parents don't talk much, only brief question here and there and small talk about me, but not much else. I never understood why, and frankly it didn't bother me. They may not talk much, but that also meant they didn't argue either. It's like they've found a balance in the middle that they're both satisfied with. When I got older though, I managed to piece together the reason for their unusual relationship. Thinking about it now, I wasn't as shocked as I thought I'd be, and maybe it was because I didn't really care. I still don't care, it's not my problem to care about. It just helped to know why they weren't like Anne and Bret next door or old Sarah and Mikie across the street.

"Baba, can you help me pack the car?" I walk past him and to my room for my scarf and keys.

"Mashi." He doesn't make any move to get up though, he just sits there, with one leg over the other as he sips at his cup of shai.

"Baba." I call from the end of the hallway. I pause for a second, but the only attention I get is from Albi, who runs and skims to a halt in front of me. "Not you Albi." I turn around and pick up a box from the floor and start carrying it to the front door. When I returns back to my room, Baba's already inside and stacking two boxes, with Albi playing at his feet.

"Take the kalb outside, Hana." I purse my lips to hide my smile and I pat my thighs for Albi to come to me. I may not love Albi, but Baba can't tolerate him. His use of 'kalb' whenever he refers to Albi makes me laugh, but mum hates it. Even though Albi is a kalb, mum thinks it's an insult, and coming from Baba's mouth, it mostly likely is meant as one.

"Come on buddy." I lead Albi out to the hallway and squat down to rub his ears. "Leave Baba alone." I say as he drops and rolls on the ground. I leave him there and head back to my room.

"Take these boxes, I'll carry your cases." I do as I'm told and carry the lighter boxes to the front door, followed by the heavy footsteps of Baba's slippers thudding against the hard floor and the rolling of my suitcase wheels.

The suitcases go in the boot, and that's about all that can fit in there. All the other boxes pack away into the back and passenger seats of my rusting Holden vb commodore. My first and only car. Baba bought it for me as joke when I went for my L's. He said I could beat this one up all I like, and he'd upgrade it for me when I get my P's. That never happened. It's been four years, and I've lost hope, and Baba's most likely forgotten about it.

"Okay then." I exhale loudly as I shut the passenger door with a thud and turn around to Baba. He stands in the drive way in his pyjama bottoms and a worn out K-mart printed t-shirt. His greying hair reflects in the light, and his growing stubble adds to the aged appearance.

"Yel-la, Baba" He says as I walk around the front of the car. He walks closer to me and wraps me in a brief hug, patting my back and pulling me away by my shoulders. Holding me at arm's length, he kisses my forehead and mutters "Allah al-hafiz".

"Hana." Mum calls out as she hurries down the drive way barefoot, jumping slightly as the burning sensation of the concrete against her toes. "Come here." She pulls me into a hug as Baba steps away from the two of us. "Take care, okay. And make sure to rest every two hours, you know most people die on the road because of driver's fatigue."

"Istagfarullah." Baba says behind her as mum continues to rant.

"She can pray, but she still has to take care." Mum gives him a scolding look before turning back to me.

"I'll be okay mum." She nods and pushes my scarf further up my head to kiss the crown of my forehead.

"Mum." I pull away and tug my scarf lower down to cover the baby hairs on my head.

"Okay, I love you."

"I love you too." I turn around and open my door and get in. I leave the windows rolled down as I start up the car.

"Call me every two hours, Hana. I mean it." I nod my head as I pull down my visor and set the car in reverse.

"Tawakali ala allah, binti." I hear Baba say, and I give him a smile.

"Okay." I slowly reverse out of the drive way, and wave to my parents as I drive down the street.

My scarf blows from the wind coming through my window, flapping over my seat belt every time the car picks up momentum. When I come to the end of the street I stop and throw the end of it over my shoulder and lean my back against it. I round the corner and Tip-Top comes into view, the open sign and outdoor seats out just like they were yesterday when Albi and I stopped by. It's when I see Tip-Top, that I remember I didn't say goodbye to Albi, though as soon as the thought crosses my mind, I mentally scold myself for even thinking it.

I pass Tip-Top, though when I do I'm almost certain I see Noah standing at the door.

----------------------------------------------

Second chapter! It's going a bit slow, I know, but bear with me because I have so much in store! Also, as you've probably noticed in this chapter, there is quite a bit of Arabic being exchanged between Hana and Baba and that's because I want this to be authentic. If any of you have parents who speak a different language, I'm pretty sure you mix up English and that language (or have at some point). Anyway, the Arabic used, is from the Egyptian/ Masri dialect, but most of it is general, straight forward Arabic, with reference to Islamic terms...

So yeah, I hope you like it, and if you don't understand any of the words, feel free to ask!

Vote, comment & share!