Dad

Today I will write about my father.

He tells us many stories about when he was little, and I think they deserve a little something on my blog. They have sentimental value.

All over the world these days, there is an Arabic ”delicacy” called Hommus. In Kuwait it’s super cheap. However, when my Dad was little, let’s just say he wasn’t very well off, and back in the day, Hommus was something new. So when him and a bunch of people went to a restaurant to eat Hommus, they’d all sit on the floor around a single bowl of it, each with apiece of bread in hand. And they would tell each other “Don’t dunk your bread into it! Just touch it.”. He said the Hommus tasted different back then. Almost makes me wanna turn back time just to see.

My father is afraid of needles. There, I said it. So am I. when he was little, his Mom dragged him to the clinic to get some shot taken, not entirely sure what it was. Tra la la went my Dad, unawares what was about to come. When that needle pinched his skin, he jumped off the table, ran out the door, cross the street, and all the way home. Needle in arm and all.

My Dad was the youngest of his brothers. So of course he was the one always sent to buy the bread for lunch. He used to eat most of it on the way home. They got mad at him. He speaks of the bread like it was the most amazing thing on earth. The warmth, softness, and how he used to smother it with some oil I never heard of before. I want some.

My Dad was a little naughty. He used to walk to and from school. One very fine day, the sun was shining, there was a slight breeze, and the family decided to have a nice lunch outdoors in their backyard. So on the way home, my Dad decided to go play with his friends first, so he took off his shoes, and threw them over the wall surrounding his house, too lazy to go inside. His shoes landed, yep, right into the nice hot sizzling stew that was still being cooked for that lovely picnic. He didn’t go home all day.

He said even the Kitkat’s were different back then. Something about foil wrapping? And the simple pleasure of breaking the bar in half..

He would go to the supermarket, and find those advertisement guys. The ones who give out samples. He’d take about 8 samples each time. Going back every few minutes to get more. He particularly liked Nido milk.

My Dad doesn’t have a great appetite. He eats, of course. But he somehow always talks about how food just doesn’t taste the way it did before. And he has a perfect explanation for it. My Dad says that back in the day, he was poor, and having good food was something he cherished very much. He said when he would simply be holding the warm bread in his hand, it was the best feeling in the world. Now, he says, everything is available. Anything you want is a phonecall away, you don’t even have to leave your home to have a nice ready cooked meal delivered to your doorstep. He said “God gave the money to buy all the food in the world, but took away the appetite to want it”.

My Dad built himself like no other. Him and my Mom lived in a single room when they first married. My dad sold hair bands. Now, my Dad owns the largest musical instrument company in the country, and supplies for all the great names out there. He’s a retired police officer, and a communications engineer. My Dad’s a hero.