A Eid Mubarak!

Today is officially the first day of Eid! And as excited as I might be, Eid is never more exciting than when you’re a kid. No, I’ll never forget the wonderful days of Eid I used to spend with my brother when we were younger…

We’d both wake up really early and Dad would go with my brother to the mosque for Eid Prayers, then they’d visit my paternal grandfather (and then a few years later, my paternal grandmother) at the graveyard. I always used to be afraid of going with them. So in the meantime on such mornings, Mum would take me to the hairdresser’s so we could get our hair done, and then we’d get dressed and visit my maternal grandma’s house for a big family Eid lunch. It’d be packed with people, including all my grandma’s sisters and brothers, their spouses, their children and their children’s spouses, and their children’s children. The food would be (and still is) as scrumptious as ever, with the traditional vine leaves, lamb chops, tater tots, salad, and other appetizers and desserts gran would make. With all the people there, there’d usually be no room for us at the table so we’d end up sitting with the rest of the children (all of them at least five years younger than us) at the kid’s table they’d set up for us in the kitchen. I can’t say I especially enjoyed those “stuck with the children” moments, but my brother and I always had our inside jokes…

Today, the tradition didn’t change that much (apart from the fact I didn’t have my brother with us, lucky you, F!). Today, I woke up, had breakfast and lounged, took a bath, went to get my hair done, got dressed, then went to gran’s. As expected, I was greeted with more people than could fit in a room! The grown ups (that I don’t even see except during this time of year) gave me the traditional compliments and asked me how university was, and I corrected them with “don’t you mean how's work”? And then there were the children again, a total of 10 this year, aged between 7 months and 9 years. As usual I felt misplaced, with the closest youngest person my age being 9 and the closest oldest person my age being 32 (I’m 22)…

“You have a passcode on your phone, don’t you” the nine-year-old asked me as I was taking a picture of my baby cousin Celine (who I of course love the most from all the children). I looked at her and asked, “Why? Did you try using my phone?”. “No,” she giggled, “but Dad has the same phone as you do (iPhone) and I figured out his passcode”. “Aha”. “Come here,” she said in a quiet voice, “I want to tell you something”. I leaned in closer, “what is it?” “I’m going to tell you Dad’s passcode”. “But I don’t want to know it” “Why not?” “Um, because I don’t want to go through his phone, that's an invasion of privacy”. “Privacy?” She looked like she had no clue what the word “privacy” meant. “Let me tell you his passcode,” she said again. “Ok,” I sighed, I thought it was the quickest way to end this conversation. “1… 4… 3… 0” “Thanks”. “But you have to keep it a secret, Dad doesn’t know that I know. But I know. You wanna know how I know? It’s because once, when he was entering his passcode, I pretended not to look but I looked. And that’s how I know!” “You’re secret’s safe with me”…

“Can I use your camera?” HELL NO! “um, no” “ok” OK? “so let me tell you about school…” and she went into another 10 minute rant about her teachers and how “this one time,” I have no idea what happened… Akh, I’ve got to love Eid! :-)