The woman across the table from me has hair the color of steeped red
tea. Her thick, curly locks are gathered at the nape of her neck and
loosely tied. Her name is Ouahida (pronounced why-dah) and she tells me
her prénom* means “unique” in Tunisian. Ouahida and I are drinking Earl
Grey at an Irish pub in the French Alps, but soon we will be
transported to the wheat fields of Northern Africa where my friend’s
story begins…

Back in Tunisia, Ouahida’s grandfather, being a
landowner, was considered rich. On his land he cultivated blé* from
which one of his wives made bread. One day, and for reasons unknown to
Ouahida, her grandfather traded his scythe for scissors, quitting the
wheat fields to work as the town’s circumciser. With so many babies
being born (Ouahida herself has nine brothers and sisters) there was
plenty of work to be found in his new field.

Ouahida remembers
her grandfather, who was never trained as a doctor, leaving for an
appointment with his black bag, ciseaux* and rubbing alcohol. Often,
the villagers were too poor to pay for the procedure, so they gave
Ouahida’s grandfather a fresh egg or a bit of lamb or a piece of cake
from the accompanying celebration as payment and he was always invited
to stay and drink the traditional tea, served with mint; inside the
tea, roasted pine nuts were added when they could be afforded.
Otherwise almonds or peanuts would do.

On days off, Ouahida’s
grandfather enjoyed a quiet stroll through his village. He was
sensitive to noise so when the local kids made a racket all he had to
do was hold up his hand and make “coup de ciseaux” or “clip clip”
gestures and, like that, the children disappeared, faster than sweet mint tea on a hot summer’s day.

***
*Photo of my friend Ouahida, with her fan Matthieu (aka “Pioupiou”, or “little soldier”).

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References: le prénom (m) = given name; le blé (m) = wheat; les ciseaux (m) = scissors