The beaver | Muhammad Hassan Alwan

Since we settled in Al-Fakhiriyah, my father deals with people as if he is a victorious conqueror, not a new resident. He builds the mosque, changes street names, and even interferes with the moods of passersby and the shop signs. The owner of the nearby laundry was forced to spend extra money to change the water drainage pipe that was dripping in the street after my father scolded him several times and threatened to shut down the shop. The owner of the Yemeni shop didn't know my father, so he imagined that he truly had the power, so he submitted to his demands even though he rarely passes by that side of the sidewalk. Until one day, when he did, the Indian vendor in the neighboring grocery store jumped from his place to offer him pieces of sweets and fruit, which my father took dismissively to throw at the beggar woman who has inhabited a precious corner of the neighborhood for years.