Dressed in black from head-to-toe, a nine-year-old girl named Ameena Mansoor sat with her back against a stone wall. She wrapped her arms around her legs as she drew her knees to her chest as she watched two of her brothers playing.
Of the five Mansoor children, Kareem, Ameena, and Mohammed were the youngest. Kareem was 11, Ameena was 9, and Mohammed was 7. Often, they went wherever their parents took them. Today, it was the old Portuguese citadel.
The citadel had a tall, rectangular tower that overlooked the Atlantic Ocean. Two citadel walls ran fro the southeast and southwest sides of the tower, leading to other fortified walls around the walled city. The walls, also known as ramparts, were lined with old cannons that had been abandoned by Portuguese sailors over 500 years ago.
Kareem stood atop the citadel tower, with his back to Ameena. He leaned backward, gazing into the sun. He stretched his arms in front of him, measuring something in the distance with his hands.
Meanwhile, Mohammed climbed one of the date palm trees lining the walls. He wasn’t much bigger than a meter high, yet he loved climbing the tall trees. Ameena watched as he shimmied up the tree trunk. In no time at all, he was near the top, plucking dates from the canopy of palm leaves.
“Come here!” he called out to Ameena.
Ameena walked to the other side of the square and waited at the bottom of the tree. As Mohammed dropped the fruit, Ameena did her best to catch them. When he was finished, Mohammed carefully climbed down and joined his sister. They carried the bunch of dates back to where Ameena had been sitting.
Mohammed undid his arms, dropping the bright green dates on the cobblestone sidewalk. The bright green dates encircled the two children. Mohammed grabbed a date as he sat down. He took a bite and then looked up at his sister.
“Well?”
As Ameena sat down beside Mohammed, she carefully cradled the dates in her arms. She pulled her hijab under her chin, uncovering her face. It was one of the few times she'd done it outside her home. The ocean breeze cooled her face. She picked a date and took a bite. The small fruit, which was shaped like a chubby man’s finger, was crisp and sweet.
"Ameena! Why is your face uncovered?" said Kareem.
Quickly, Ameena pulled the hijab back into place. Now, just her eyes were visible.
“How is she supposed to eat?” asked Mohammed.
“It doesn’t matter. She’s not supposed to show her face outside.
Neither Ameena nor Mohammed put up any more arguments. Mohammed ate another date, dropping the seeds in a pile between him and Ameena.
“Let’s play Midnight Marauders,” suggested Kareem.
“Okay,” said Mohammed.
The two boys left Ameena alone with the pile of fruit and a covered mouth. She folded her arms again as she watched the boys.
Her eyes, black as onyx, darted back and forth as she followed her brothers around the citadel. They ran up and down stairs and around the cannons guarding the old fort. The cannons poked out of the ramparts as they faced the Atlantic Ocean.
Ameena turned her attention toward the ocean. Large waves tumbled toward Essaouira, which sat on Morocco’s northwest coast. The waves crashed against jagged red rocks all along the shore.
The city itself, sat above and behind the ramparts of the walled city. Essaouira’s buildings were the cleanest white Ameena had ever known. Below the ramparts, fisherman worked along the shore. Rowboats, which old Moroccan fisherman used as fishing boats, were painted bright blue. The large motorized fishing boats, known as steamers, were painted the same bright shade of blue, matching the summer sky.
Ameena wondered why anyone would dare to attack Essaouira at all. In her opinion, most of its treasures were along the coastline anyway.
The sounds of her brothers chasing each other around brought her back to the citadel.
"Come back here!" shouted little Mohammed.
"You'll have to catch me!" said Kareem.
Even with a name like Midnight Marauders, the brothers played it in the middle of the day. The hot Moroccan sun was directly above them. It warmed Ameena's face while the stone wall warmed her back.
She carefully pulled the hijab under her chin and attempted to finish her half-eaten date.
"Ameena!" shouted her mother.
Ameena quickly dropped the date in her lap and pulled the veil back into place.
Her parents approached the end of the walkway, stopping next to the children.
“Where are Kareem and Mohammed?” asked Mrs. Mansoor.
Ameena pointed towards the citadel. Her father placed two fingers in his mouth and gave a sharp whistle. Kareem poked his head over the edge of the citadel walls.
“It’s time to go!” said Mr. Mansoor. Mohammed’s head poked over the castle walls, too. Meanwhile, Ameena gathered the fruit. As Kareem and Mohammed joined them, Kareem told on his sister.
“Ameena uncovered her face.”
“Ameena! I’m shocked,” said Mrs. Mansoor.
Ameena’s eyes wilted as she tipped her head toward the ground.
“She was trying to eat dates,” said Mohammed.
Mr. Mansoor looked at the date seeds lying on the ground.
“I don’t suppose you can eat through your veil, can you?” said Mr. Mansoor.
Ameena shook her head.
“But she’s outside,” argued Kareem.
“To wear the hijab or not to wear the hijab…that must be Ameena’s choice,” said her father. He carefully tucked the hijab under her chin.
“But Latif…” said mother.
“It is her choice,” he repeated.
Ameena especially enjoyed the cool ocean breezes as they wisped across her face. She wondered if the seagulls floating overhead felt this way, too.
The seagulls teetered on gusts of wind as they watched the fisherman below. More fishing skiffs, painted bright blue, were tied together with a single clothesline that ran from one part of the shore to the other. The skiffs bobbed on the waves and banged into one another. To Ameena, the sound of wooden boats and seagull cries were two of her favorite things.
“I think we’ll eat dinner somewhere along the shore,” announced Mrs. Mansoor.
“I still don’t get why Ameena should be allowed to uncover her face,” argued Kareem.
“It is too hot to argue today, Kareem,” said Mr. Mansoor.
“I agree,” said mother, who continued, “I think it is important for a Muslim woman to cover her face until she is married. Men should only see the eyes of an unmarried woman. That is where the soul lies.”
Mr. Mansoor let out a sigh. Meanwhile, Ameena remained silent.
“Also,” added Kareem, “It is said that a woman should be judged first by her inner beauty. This is why the face is shown only to those who are closest to her.”
“Either way,” reminded father, “It’s up to you.”
Ameena thought her mother’s words as she walked between her parents. Her mother always preached the ways of Islam. Her father always took a different approach. He believed that each child should find his or her own way. Although her mother and father had different ways of doing things, Ameena understood both points of view.
The family walked along the ramparts towards the medina. The medina was one of the oldest parts of Essaouira. Tall, white buildings rose around Ameena every which way she looked. The alleys of the medina were crowded with street vendor’s tents. The throng of people pushed in two opposite directions, clogging the alley.
A small open-air café sat at the end of the alley, facing the ocean.
“We’ll stop here,” said Mrs. Mansoor.
Mr. Mansoor called Jamal on his cell phone while the family waited at the entrance of a small cafe. After the phone call, Mr. Mansoor announced their plans.
“Jamal and Yusef will be here in just a few minutes.”
The hostess sat the family at a large table on the outside patio. Mrs. Mansoor ordered a pitcher of iced tea. The family shared the tea while they waited. Ameena enjoyed the cool ocean breezes on her uncovered face as she drank her iced tea.
Two boys, tall and lean, approached from the alleyway. It was Jamal and Yusef. Both Ameena and her mother waved their hands, signaling to the boys. Ameena was anxious for a hearty meal and conversation with her entire family, whom she loved very much.
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