With the young carpenter's saw and his full set of tools, my mother was able to have five children, and she would have been ready to have more, had the young carpenter not left the neighborhood altogether, having decided to marry his cousin, at his family's request. My father would strut through the streets like a true stallion, greeting everyone he met along the way.
"Hello, Abu Mabrouk."
They named me Mabrouk."
I remember my mother wrapping her plump arms around me, squeezing me tightly and lovingly. She would sniff me greedily, as if she were reliving the scent of the young carpenter, and she would whisper in my ear, laughing, "I love you, you son of a bitch!"