ZIAD IN GAZA

  I arrived at the house of my host family to find four of my friends waiting for me. During the past couple of weeks we all ran into each other on different occasions, and since then, we have started to meet and sit together. None of us had a strong relationship before with each other (except for a married couple), but our relationship strengthened during these times. We chit-chatted for a while, until one guy said: “Look at my shirt! Look at how wrinkled it is. One thing I wish to wear is an ironed shirt. I wish I could go back to the days when I used to take my clothes to the dry cleaner.” I remember my own dry cleaner, and how trusted he was. Several times, he would give me money I forgot in the pockets of my shirts or pants. I wonder where he and his family are now and whether they are still alive.

The words of the guy kept repeating in my head; I really wanted to do something nice for him. So, I got an idea. I went quickly and bought some coal. Coal is very expensive these days. It is the “luxurious” alternative, rather than wood, to generate heat. I bought a few pieces, and when I got back, I asked the grandmother if she could help me heat them. She generously agreed. After that, I asked her to give me the smallest frying pan she has. The frying pan was big enough for one egg. I put the coal on the frying pan and then went back.

They all looked at me wondering where I went. I said to the guy “Take off your shirt, I think we can make your dream of having an ironed shirt come true.” I laid the shirt on the couch, and I started passing the heated frying pan over the shirt. After a long time and several trials, the shirt was “ironed”. If you saw it in a normal context, you would never wear it, but compared to its old state, it was excellent. They were all laughing, encouraging me and, most importantly, asking me to be careful and not drop any coal on the shirt and ruin it. When I finished, he wore the shirt and was very happy.