TWO ARAB MOTHERS
Two Arab Mothers
Warning: Very dark humor.
Two Arab mothers are sitting in the Gaza strip chatting over a pint of goat’s milk. The oldest mother pulls her bag out and starts flipping through pictures, and they start reminiscing.
“This is my oldest son Mohammed. He’s 24 year old”, says mum.
“Yes, I remember him as a baby” says the other mother gleefully.
“He’s a martyr now though” mum confides.
“Oh dear?” says the other
“And this is my second son Kalid. He’s 21”
“Oh, I remember him,” says the other happily, “he had such curly hair when he was born”.
“He’s a martyr too “ says mum quietly.
“Oh gracious me ..” says the other.
“...and this is my third son. My baby. My beautiful Achmed. He’s 18”, she whispers.
“Yes” says the friend enthusiastically, “I remember when he first started school”.
“He’s a martyr also,” says mum, with tears in her eyes.
After a pause and a deep sigh, the second Arab mother looks wistfully at the photographs and says, “Its amazing, they blow up so fast, don’t they?”
