Our Little Persian CousinShedd, E. Cutler (Ephraim Cutler)
General
Our Little Persian Cousin
Shedd, E. Cutler (Ephraim Cutler)
Children -- Iran -- Juvenile literature
When he could crawl around in the house sister Almas watched him. It
was too dark for him to see much, for all the light came from the
door, when that was open, and from the hole, about a foot square, in
the middle of the ceiling, where the smoke at last went out. The door
was so low that Nana had to stoop every time she went through it. The
walls were black from the smoke, which Karim now found poured out each
morning from a hole in the floor about as big as a large barrel. Nana
did the cooking with the fire which she kept burning in this hole.
One afternoon Karim looked down, and found that its bottom was all
bright with light which came from glowing red lumps. It was the
prettiest thing he had ever seen, and he grasped the edge and leaned
away over to see still better. Just then Almas screamed and jerked him
back by his foot so suddenly that the skin of his hands was scratched
by the rough edge. Of course he cried.
Nana came running in, and snatching him up exclaimed between her sobs,
"Awý! my precious! he might have fallen in!" Then she struck Almas, so
that she, too, cried.
After this Karim had to be satisfied with the bright light shining in
through the hole above his head, and with the two round trays which,
leaning against the wall, shone like polished silver until at last the
smoke darkened them. They remained so until the next year, when a man
came from the city and polished them over again.
In the daytime there were large piles of bedclothes tightly rolled
up near the cradle. A few rugs lay folded beside them. There were no
tables or chairs or bedsteads, and the floor was simply the hard earth.
In the corner were a few green bowls, and some wooden spoons and
copper plates. These were the dishes for the meals. Just across from
the door stood a wooden chest, half as high as the room. This was where
all the flour was put in the autumn, when Abdullah had packed it down
carefully by stamping upon it with his bare feet. Near it was a door
opening into darkness, through which Karim was afraid to crawl.
When he tired of these things, he looked at the chickens,--an old
rooster dressed in red and black, but without any tail (he had never
had any), and two or three clucking old biddies in sober gray, besides
a half dozen others, hungry looking, half grown, with long legs. Like
the flies, they came into the house whenever the door was open. If Nana
left any food standing even for a minute she had to cover it. They came
at meal time as regularly as if they had been invited, and fought with
each other for the scraps of bread or bits of gristle that Abdullah
threw away. Several times the rooster snatched the piece of bread which
Karim was eating right out of his hand; but when he laid the bread down
to crow for the biddies, one of the half grown chickens caught it up
and ran around the room with it, chased by all of his hungry brothers.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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