31 open the gate,” I reminded her. “I thought Ghanim was running away from his father. See the blessings of your grandfather upon us? The wave came and drove them out of the tent. Who knows what they would have done... now go to sleep, go to sleep,” she murmured. The next morning, I woke to the smell of breakfast being prepared. “Where are the women?” I asked. “They left during the night,” my grandmother replied, a hint of relief in her voice. Later that morning, I ventured to the beach where Sheikh Obaid ibn Jum‘a al-Maktoum’s arbor was situated. A group
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