Read The Turtle of Oman Online
Authors: Naomi Shihab Nye
The Turtle of Oman
For my wonderful editor, Virginia Duncan, and 20+ happy years of working together.
Always remembering Aziz and the love he shared. To everyone at The American International School of Muscatâthanks for making a little throne for your guest, and for passing the date plate.
And an ongoing “Mahalo” to Frank Stewart of Honolulu, who changed our lives forever.
“The flowers of the garden
guide us with their smiles.”
S
IDI
A
BOU
M
ADYAN
(T
WELFTH
C
ENTURY
)
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Note: Sidi is pronounced “See-Dee.”
Contents
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Good-bye, Turquoise and Limestone
The Most Important Word in the World
The Candy Bowl and Everything Else
World Traveler Leaves Friendly Note in Empty Closet
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A
ref Al-Amri stared at the Muscat International Airport security guards. They looked very serious in their brown uniforms, checking tickets, waving travelers forward. He was standing with his parents. His dad hadn't stepped into the security line yet. Aref wished he had planned to give his dad a tiny turtle to carry in his pocket. A turtle might hide his head and pretend to be a stone when the plane took off, then stick his head out of the shell again when the plane was flying. His dad could feed him a piece of lettuce from his sandwich.
The airport lobby swirled with people wearing bright scarves, hats and turbans. They pushed baggage carts and dragged trunks and suitcases behind them. Who were they, where were they going, and why? Some people seemed anxious or worried, clumping together with family members, trying to keep track of belongings. Others looked bouncy and chatty. Aref's own mom, standing next to him, attempted to answer her phone in the middle of all that noise. She resembled a tourist from Bahrain.
“Dad,” he said, “look how big their suitcases are.”
“Even bigger than yours.” Aref's father shook his head. “People want to take everything with them. So loaded down!”
Aref's father had checked a large blue suitcase. He'd been urging Aref to get rid of extra possessions for weeks now, so Aref wouldn't try to pack too much. But Aref didn't like letting go of his things. It was hard to decide. A baby shrieked. Aref shook his head. His mom covered her ear that wasn't on the phone.
“See you soon! Take care of your mom and Sidi and Mish-Mish,” said his dad, rumpling Aref's thick hair. “Don't forget to keep speaking English, so you'll be all warmed up. I'm glad you didn't get a haircut. Good choice.”
Aref smiled. He didn't even like letting go of his hair. Speaking English was easy, thoughâeveryone spoke it at his American international school and he'd spoken it since he started talking, along with Arabic. It felt natural to speak both. His mom was an English professor at the university, so his family spoke more English than most people. His dad taught biology, so they liked talking about science too. They'd all spoken mostly English at home since his parents had decided to go to the United States. These days, they mostly talked to other people in Arabicâtheir neighbors, and Sidi, people in restaurants and stores. And they dreamed in Arabic too.
Aref's Dad was wearing a crisp new yellow-and-white checkered shirt and a dark blue jacket with bulging pockets. “What's in your pockets?” Aref asked, patting one. “They're huge!”
“Well, my passport, I hope!” his dad said. “And my ticket and boarding passes and gum and mints and money and earplugs and my telephone . . .”
“Earplugs?” asked Aref.
“Well, you know . . . sometimes people talk too much,” his dad said. “Or I might be sitting next to that baby. What if he gets the hiccups after crying so hard? If the person next to me is old enough to speak, we'll visit a bit before everybody starts to snore. Also, jet engines make a loud roar. I'll need some good sleep before starting my new life. Ask Mom to get you earplugs too.”
Aref's mom handed his dad her telephone. “
Maasalameh, shukrun, yallah, alif shukrun iktheer ya ammi,
” he said loudly, over the din.
Then he handed the phone back. “We're not saying good-bye to each other,” he said, pointing to Aref and himself. “We're just saying, âSee you in a week.'”
“If anyone else calls, I'm not answering,” said Aref's mom.
“Sitting next to that baby would be extremely bad,” said Aref.
His dad leaned over and whispered in Arabic, “Do you know that someone tried to smuggle a parrot onto a plane last week?”
“Why?”
His dad shrugged. “It's a mystery.” Then he glanced at his watch. “It would be strange to be arrested because of a parrot. Well, I won't have to look far at all to be learning something every moment.” He smiled at Aref and Aref's mom. “By the time you arrive, I'll have a long list of discoveries.”
“I believe you, Dad,” said Aref, standing on one foot like a pelican or a stork. “For sure, you always win.”
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Discovering Something New Every Day was an Al-Amri family motto. Aref's father said people started playing this game the day they were born. That baby was probably just learning how loud his scream could be.
In your notebook, you wrote down new ideas or even scraps of new information.Nothing was too small. Even the definition of a single word qualified. “Magnanimous.” (Very, very generous.) “Stupefaction.” (Shocking, astonishing.)
Aref's father liked making lists and had a stack of thin black notebooks he'd been keeping over the years with lists on every page. He wrote in Arabic and English, both. He wasn't taking these notebooks to the United States, thoughâhe was only taking a new, blank one. Aref liked making lists too, but used blue and red school notebooks. His mom kept her new discoveries in the computer.
It was a game that never ended. Usually Aref and his parents traded discoveries at the dinner table. Last night his dad had said, “I learned my flight from Muscat to Ann Arbor will take approximately fifteen hours and nine minutes, not counting the time on the ground changing planes.”
“That means you will have to eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner in the sky,” said Aref.
“And maybe a snack too,” said his dad.
Even Sidi, Aref's grandfather, played the game, but without writing things down.
Sometimes Aref copied what he said. Sidi specialized in geographical information, such as:
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Sultanate Facts
1. Oman is the last sultanate left on earth besides one other, Brunei Darussalam, that none of us has ever visited.
2. A sultanate has a sultan as ruler, not a president or a queen or a king or a Pharaoh or a Prime Minister.
3. The sultan is the boss. You don't really see him very much.
4. One fourth of the people now living in Oman started out in other countries. They came to Oman to work, or to find a safe place to call their new home. Some just fell in love with the country, and stayed.
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Sidi was fascinated by this, because Oman had really changed during his lifetime. When he was a boy, there were very few people from other countries living there.
Aref's discoveries specialized in animals, his favorite topic.
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Turtles Are My Favorite
1. Green sea turtles can stay underwater for as long as five hours, without coming up to the surface once.
2. Their heartbeats slow down dramatically. Sometimes green sea turtles have 9 minutes between heartbeats. You think they are dead, but they are only floating.
3. A leatherback turtle can be six and a half feet long.
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When Aref had made this discovery, he wondered how scary it would be for a diver swimming in the ocean if a six-foot turtle, big as a man, swam up to him. You would either want to jump out of the water, or ride the turtle. Aref had drawn a picture of a giant turtle and a regular-sized man in his notebook.
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4. Did you know a turtle's shell is called a “carapace”?
5. Land turtles have backbones under their shells, sea turtles do not.
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A crackly voice boomed from the speakers. “All passengers for Dubai, please report immediately to gate fourteen. Flight thirty-six to Dubai will be boarding momentarily.” This was not his father's plane.
Aref liked the word
Dubai
. “Good-bye, Dubai, good-bye, Dubai . . .” He spun in a circle and skidded.
Then he ran a little ways and slid across the shiny airport floor, as if he were on the snow slope at Ski Dubai, the indoor ski palace where they had traveled when he was five.
“Careful, Aref!” called his mom. “Don't bump into people!”
Ski Dubai was the only time Aref had ever seen snowâfake snow, slick white bumps built into tubes and slopes, under sparkling electric stars. Outside it was 100 degrees, but inside, people were skiing. It seemed very weird. Michigan would be full of snow during the winters.
“It's time for me to go!” Aref's father finally said. He was flying to Kuwait, Frankfurt, New York, then Ann Arbor, Michigan. Time for him to go through security, where Aref and his mom couldn't follow.
Aref's dad leaned over and kissed the top of Aref's head. “Take good care of your mom, promise? Help her get ready? Do everything she says?”
But what if she said something silly?
“Maybe,” said Aref.
His dad punched him lightly. Then he hugged him hard. “See you in a week on the other side of the world!” It seemed impossible.
Aref had planned to drop a stone into his dad's pocket, but now slipped it into his father's hand instead. He wanted his dad to see how unusual it was.
“It's for good luck,” said Aref. “Look, it's a little pink on this side, and if you hold it in the sun, it glitters.”
Aref's father turned the stone over and smiled. “You are just like your grandpa,” he said. “I will hold it up in the window when the sun rises over the ocean. I will keep it in my pocket always when I arrive in the United States. I will say my son gave it to me, and you are coming soon.”