The Request [Under Construction]

5. Balda Hurria

5. Balda Hurria

It was bright, sunny day, and I had just arrived in Omar's small little village, Balda Hurria. Town Freedom. Ironic, really.

It was small, five streets in total, with lots of tiny concrete buildings meshed together, some a few stories high. About five hundred Palestinian refugees lived here. How, I didn't know. I'm sure every house probably housed about ten people, if not more.

There were children playing around in the street, kicking footballs and chasing one another. Along the side of one street were makeshift stalls where women and men were selling food and small little trinkets. On the corner of the opposite side of the road was what was left of a building, with just the roof of it still standing. Sitting in a couple of rows, under it, were small children, all listening aptly to the young woman talking to them. Her hands were flying about, illustrating what she was saying, her face moving and shaping into different expressions. I watched as the children went from laughter to shock or fear, then sadness and then back to laughter.

I looked around for Omar, and spotted him talking to a lady at one of the stalls. There was a little girl hugging the lady's legs. Smiling, I made my way over to them.

"Julie," Omar said with a smile. "This is Shafiqa, my sister."

I held out my hand for the petite woman to shake. She just let out a bubble of laughter and shook her head, her green eyes sparkling. She waved my hand away and pulled me into a hug instead.

"Julie, nice to meet you!" she said before turning around getting something at her stall.

I felt a tug on my dress and looked down. The little girl that was hugging Shafiqa's legs was standing beside me with the biggest smile on her round, slightly dirty face. She had curly light brown hair and big grey eyes.

"'Ukht Julie, lak," she squeaked, pressing a yellow daisy into my hand.

"She says, Sister Julie, here," Omar quickly translated. I smiled a thanks at him and bent down to her level.

"Thank you," I told her, giving a small squeeze.

"Shukraan," Omar said to the girl.

"Aismi hu Zuleikha," she replied, placing her small palm on my face.

"Her name is Zuleikha," Omar assisted.

"Beautiful name!" I told her with a smile.

"Aism jamil," came Omar's words.

Zuleikha smiled delightedly at me, kissed my cheek and then scampered away.

"She is very cute," I told Omar, standing back up to my full height.

"Thank you," Shafiqa replied, re-joining the conversation and handing me a plate. "Ma'amoul," she said. "Try."

The plate had several round balls of shortbread pastries. They were dusted with icing sugar.

I picked one up and gingerly took a bite. Crunchy sweetness filled my mouth. The little ball was filled with dates and walnuts and was absolutely divine.

"Nice?" Shafiqa asked.

"Absolutely! I must have the recipe."

Shafiqa just smiled in reply and went back to her stall.

"I show you around?" Omar asked.

I gave him a nod and a smile, and switched my video-camera on as we walked down the road.