Dr. Jamshid Ibrahim
Senior Member
- Joined
- Jul 19, 2005
- Member Type
- Academic
- Native Language
- English
- Home Country
- Iraq
- Current Location
- Germany
The Well
The Pitcher and the Basin
I came to a well which looked like a fountain set deep in a pit. There were already some women there who carried water home from the well in water jugs or canisters balanced on their heads. These canisters were re-used oil canisters and food tins. Some of the women were young and beautiful, in dresses of different colours and styles. The pearls on their necklaces were chosen at random. Some were single as if their shining dress colours were pursuing young men. The water and the girls were clear and pure. The ice cold water was equally refreshing. You could see its drops mingle with the girls' pearls in water. The presence of even a boy there was seen as intrusion on this angelic haven.
I didn’t know about it so I went there. I was the only urban boy in the village and felt superior. One of the boys said: My sister goes there every day. She said: a girl has fallen in love with the urban boy but please don’t tell anybody about it. When I went there the other girls laughed, she was deeply embarrassed and couldn’t raise her head. I went to drink water because I was thirsty. Yes, I was often thirsty. Whenever I was home I didn’t drink tap water but drank from a basin placed under an amphora or a pitcher.
I saw the girls on their way home late one afternoon but couldn’t ask them to give me some water. I stopped and listened to their singing. Their clear voices filled the sky. Then I plucked some courage and asked: "Please girls, I am thirsty, give me some water. Go away urban boy", they said „our water doesn’t quench your thirst“. I said: Please girls, I am thirsty, show me your beautiful eyes. Go away you poor urban boy, our eyes are as beautiful as those of gazelles. I had no more courage so I went back home thirsty. When the doctors came they said: He died of thirst.
The Pitcher and the Basin
I came to a well which looked like a fountain set deep in a pit. There were already some women there who carried water home from the well in water jugs or canisters balanced on their heads. These canisters were re-used oil canisters and food tins. Some of the women were young and beautiful, in dresses of different colours and styles. The pearls on their necklaces were chosen at random. Some were single as if their shining dress colours were pursuing young men. The water and the girls were clear and pure. The ice cold water was equally refreshing. You could see its drops mingle with the girls' pearls in water. The presence of even a boy there was seen as intrusion on this angelic haven.
I didn’t know about it so I went there. I was the only urban boy in the village and felt superior. One of the boys said: My sister goes there every day. She said: a girl has fallen in love with the urban boy but please don’t tell anybody about it. When I went there the other girls laughed, she was deeply embarrassed and couldn’t raise her head. I went to drink water because I was thirsty. Yes, I was often thirsty. Whenever I was home I didn’t drink tap water but drank from a basin placed under an amphora or a pitcher.
I saw the girls on their way home late one afternoon but couldn’t ask them to give me some water. I stopped and listened to their singing. Their clear voices filled the sky. Then I plucked some courage and asked: "Please girls, I am thirsty, give me some water. Go away urban boy", they said „our water doesn’t quench your thirst“. I said: Please girls, I am thirsty, show me your beautiful eyes. Go away you poor urban boy, our eyes are as beautiful as those of gazelles. I had no more courage so I went back home thirsty. When the doctors came they said: He died of thirst.
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