The Smell of Oranges BY: Talaat Skairek

25 / 04 / 2008, 33 : 02 PM

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Nobody could now estimate the beating pulses of his heart, nor would anybody know why all those tears were welling up so profusely in his eyes. He alone realized that he was living the final moments of his life.
The doctor's reassuring words to his wife and children did not make him change his mind. He felt in deep inside. The leaves of the life have already fallen, and the last leaf is rapidly withering before his eyes. Was he weeping over it for some other reason that would be difficult to explain in the remaining few moments?
He closed his eyes , and the image of wife, children and relatives faded away. "Which one of you", he mumbled with a clearly audible voice, "could bring -me an orange, any orange?". Every body looked and taken aback. "But, father...", started the eldest son , but the father interrupted, I know it's not the orange season, but I want orange. It's difficult for a man to die without an orange in his hand". The", all shook their hands, not realizing why this man of seventy wanted an orange. His wife, Umm Al-Khair, thought that her man wanted to say something. So, she leaned towards him and whispered, "do you want to say something for God's sake?" He opened his eves . Tears drowned everything. He tried to discern his wife's features, but everything «-as blurred. "Ah. Umm Al-Khair", he muttered, "I have always wished to die there. Why do I have to die away from home, from our native Land. from our own street, from our orange grove?". The tortured question fell on them like a bombshell that startled them, and Umm Al- Khair began to cry bitterly.
The dying man wanted to laugh. He remembered the streets, the houses, the faces, the thousand little things. He doesn't believe that all those years have gone by so quickly and vanished into thin air. He saw himself sauntering in one of those streets he knew so well, serenely recollecting the distinguished scents. He did not fully realize the meaning and implications of being away from Palestine. In the first few years he used to close his eyes and move toward his beloved homeland. Later on, he participated in several Fedayeen operations. He always felt excited with burning nostalgia every time he approached the borders. He rushed eagerly toward death, hoping to embrace it on his, native soil. "Death away from the land of Palestine is a double death", he used to say.
As he began to age, he felt as if a hand were writing his heart. The thought of dying away from Palestine made him jump from his bed in a sudden move that surprised everybody and made them converge upon him. "You don't understand, I want to die there!" . Umm Al-Khair cried, "leave him alone , all of you, for God's sake!".
Abul-Khair left his bed and, with great difficulty, put his feet into his shoes, and began to walk. The children approached to help him, but he refused. With faltering steps, he opened the door of the house and drew in a deep breath, crying happily like a child, "By God! I sense the smell of oranges", and laughed heartedly. The street was long. He stopped out. They followed him . His heart began to beat very fast. Breathing became difficult , and all his muscles began to sag. He closed his eyes and fell down.
"The moments are too long", he gasped. His wife stopped weeping. He opened his eyes and stretched his hand to hold hers. "WE met there for the first time", he said, "and we shall return together".
Umm Al-Khair felt that his hand was warm. Then it suddenly became cold; and she knew that he has gone to walk in one of those remote streets.
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