May you be the Mother of 23 Sons

Either women came to her for a visit to drink tea or coffee in the afternoons or she went to them. There were always a lot of women in our house coming and going. My mother was very sociable indeed. She used to sit in their midst and talk about everything under the sun. There was always something to tell. So, none of them could wait. They all talked at the same time or often interrupted each other. It was not a sign of impoliteness. On the contrary, it showed their unstoppable interest and impatience to tell their stories.

I used to sit in a corner enjoying their heavenly noises especially when they laughed or cried. I heard them sip tea or coffee and eat a lot of cake. Every now and then I heard them say my name which of course made me feel very important. Then I would fall asleep and see myself surrounded by angels pitying me for being so thin and pale and telling my mother she should give me more food to eat. One of them disagreed: Don’t worry wait and see what will become of him.

However, whenever her guests left or she left they wished each other for farewell: May you be the mother of 23 sons. I couldn’t understand for during their conversation you would often see them complain about their boys: They are no help in the household. It is only you don’t worry when they are out. Once I wanted to impress her guests how organized I was by folding my trousers in front of them, she said: No, he does it only in front of you. He usually leaves his things around. So when she boasted about how much pocket money we got I made her embarrassed: This is not true, we get much less. One of my paternal uncles got married and during the engagement ceremony my favorite aunt (my mother’s youngest brother’s wife) burst singing the following:

Dearly beloved, there is no need for tears
Dearly beloved, girls belong to strangers
Dearly beloved, boys belong to fathers

Later, my mother and aunt must have been very lucky for they gave birth only to boys. Their esteem in their husbands’ eyes rose. I then imagined God granting them their wish and all mothers giving birth only to boys like me. When I opened my eyes I saw mothers surrounded by their sons. Our house was full of boys like me, naughty boys and quiet boys, thin boys and fat boys, small boys and big boys. I went out but there were no girls outside either. The streets were full of men, strong men with big moustaches, thin men and fat men, short men and tall men….My mother got older and when she died all the other mothers died with her.

Jamshid
Bremen - Germany

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