The House Shop: The Philosophy of Cover-up and Intelligence
"The House Shop": A Palestinian epic of steadfastness documenting the making of "safety" from flour and oil, and how the kitchen turns into a sanctuary of dignity and protection during a siege.
The jar is full.
Not just oil — the jar is full of safety. On the shelf, flour in his cloth bag, lentils in his jar.The grandmother used to say: "My daughter, the house that has flour and oil, worry does not know its way."Laila thought she was exaggerating, until she saw her mother opening the secret shop. "The house shop".
Creation from nothing.
Is the refrigerator empty? Are the stores intoxicating? And the wind outside cuts the screw? The mother smiles and lifts her mask: "The kitchen, Laila, is not an imitation, the kitchen is intelligence.. Get up and bring the sieve." With some flour and water, a pinch of salt, and some olive oil.. The miracle began.
Chip art.
Laila watches her mother skillfully flap the loaf on her hand, until it becomes transparent like a tissue. "Look, Laila, we call this the chip." Because it is as tender as our intentions, and as strong as our patience." The knife walks "Tk.. Tik.. "Tek" by cutting the dough into long strips. On the other hand, lentils on the stove boil and give off the smell of cumin and burnt onions (frying).
Innovation stems from need.
"Mom, why do we cook dough with lentils?" "So we can have enough, my daughter. This is what taught us to make 'lentils' a feast. The Palestinian does not go hungry and his land has wheat and olives." The dough strips fell into the lentil broth, and Laila began moving with a wooden spoon. The kitchen was filled with the noise of steam and the heart-shaking smell.
Dispensing is power.
"Why don't we buy ready-made food, mom?" The mother shakes her head as she wipes the flour from Laila's face: "Whoever eats from the shop of his house, his head will remain high". Sufficiency is not just a full stomach, sufficiency is dignity. This chip, Laila, supports the heart more than any strange food."
And the night fell. Rain is hitting the roof, and the electricity is cut off. But the dining table was stretched out, the foil was hot, and the smell of "fried onions" in oil drowned out the smell of fear. Her father ate the first bite and laughed: "May God bless you.. Your shop is full of you." Laila looked at the bag of flour. I touched the rough fabric.. At that moment, she felt the blessing of her grandmother's hand, as if she was wiping the heart of the house and saying: "As long as the oil is in the jar and the flour is in the purse, our heads are held high and we never need anyone."