A GUN IS FUN!! RIGHT?

Jeddah, Saudi Arabia

I always wonder why is it so easy to be swept into all out destruction almost against our very nature.

What would it take to stop, take a deep breath and just think about what is it we really want to achieve?

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My paternal grandfather, Ibrahim Allarakia, was born in Makkah to a family of Indian origins. They had settled in Jeddah & Makkah several generations ago when Hijaz (Current Western region of Saudi Arabia) was under Ottoman rule.

Such Indians were referred to as ‘Mujawireen’. People who moved their families & businesses for the sole purpose of being close to the two holy cities and usually worked as merchants, using their connections

in India to bring in a lot of goods along the ancient trading routes.

However, my grandfather’s father passed away when he was still a small child and his mother decided to take him & his brother, Haroon, back to her family.

Thus, he started a long arduous life journey from Makkah to Eden, Mumbai, Karachi, and Iraq as his relative passed one after another and another relative would take up caring for these orphaned kids and continue teaching them the family profession. Eventually he settled in Port Luis, Mauritius where he got married and had all his children.

Mauritius was at the time under British rule and its schools offered a British education. The older children, benefited from that as well as learning to speak several languages.

When he inherited a share of a house in his uncle’s house in Jeddah, my grandfather decided to come back to his birthplace having always maintained his ID as a citizen of the Ottoman empire which was automatically transferred to his Saudi citizenship.

I never actually asked him, but I got the sense that my grandfather was exhausted from a life of a global nomad. Settling down with his family around him was crucial to him.

On top of that, he was hit by the post WWII economy and had to re-set financially.

Our share of the proceeds from the sale of the house were used to set up a family business and a very simple variety store for my grandfather.

I loved visiting him at the store because there were always goodies to be had.

He gave all the responsibility for financial and weighty matters to his eldest son, my father, and turned his focus to the more essential matter of nurturing a family.

He had a simple routine, waking up early for the dawn prayers, going to the shop, stopping at noon, and going home for siesta.

On the way he would stop to buy the groceries for the whole family.

Back to the store in the afternoon then home early, giving his grandchildren a lot of attention all the time.

This is the life my grandfather wanted. Peaceful with his loving family around him.

Underlying needs shared by most people on this planet.

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It was quite customary for extended families to live together in one house but for my grandfather it was a cardinal rule.

As a child I remember changing rented houses more than once. My father & uncle tried mostly to rent a whole block of flats, within their budget, so that it is convenient for all of us. My grandfather preferred to have a closer sense of flow rather than each sub-family being isolated in their own flats.

Sharing meals and interacting with all of us closely.

As children didn’t mind as long as we had space to play. So, we were ecstatic when they once selected a house with a big garden. We called it ‘Beit Al Bustan’ (The Garden house).

The house itself was a good size but not for multiple families.

My parents, sisters & brothers & I huddled up in two rooms only on the ground floor. Two young single uncles had the guest suite.

My grandparents had a room right next to us to his & our delight. We shared meals and he was always checking on us & sometimes playing with us.

Two married uncles had the first floor with my eldest uncle and his kids also huddling in two rooms.

We always referred to them as ‘The people above’ and they referred to us as ‘The people below’. Our interactions in terms of daily life activities were minimal.

The garden also was not huge but was very nicely designed by the owner. At the back there was a well-planned & kept kitchen garden where various herbs and vegetables were planted for daily intake of fresh produce. There were various fruit trees.

For us kids what mattered was the front garden.

Trees and shrubs that were perfect for climbing, playing hide & seek. The small lawn in the front provided a fantastic cooling space in the summer as we wallowed in the greenery while Mum turned the sprinkler on.

So many delights to enjoy and space to play the games we used to invent from sedate family to Red Indians.

One day a friend/cousin of my father came visiting from some country and he brought my male cousin F and I some precious gifts.

Two toy machine guns!!

My male cousin was the eldest in his family. I was not.

I guess my two oldest sisters were clearly young ladies unlike the tree-climbing hoyden that I was.

At any rate, my 8 yrs. old self really appreciated his fair-mindedness as I was always protesting the whole boy-girls demarcation line.

The guns were a thing of beauty.

Latest technology, with various buttons for lights and noise and everything.

Naturally, we wanted to put them to use.

First thing in the morning, some shots were fired. I really can’t remember who shot first.

Me on ‘The People above’ or F on ‘The People below’.

What mattered was that the first shots were fired, and things had to develop from that.

My cousin came down and we were civilized long enough to discuss set-up.

We got the US-THEM teams sorted out! Our world was neatly divided!

Anyone who refused to choose a side clearly was to be excluded from all future games!

Since me & F strongly believed we were in control of this world we lived in, we felt entitled and able to do that.

We were bigger, smarter and had the best toys.

We got all the kids in the family, all the toy weapons we have at hand.

Then the glorious war started!

The green hedges were perfect to divide our space and our minds. We ran & shouted and shot repeatedly at each other.

War drums inside our head started to increase their tempo firing our blood with lust for blood (figuratively).

We didn’t even notice how much damage we were leaving behind to all the shrubs, greenery & fruits. We were blinded by our driven quest for the (questionable) glory of winning. Who cares about the price!

The taunts increased, also the suspicions and accusations.

F & I monitored the others very carefully and watched out for signs of defections.

One of my little cousins said she wanted to go to the toilette, but her brother accused her of trying to get information over to her older sister who was on my side and threatened dire consequences.

The 4 yrs. kid stared at F, then made the sign with her hand of ‘You are crazy’, poked her tongue at him and ran. She never came back. My team accused the other team of foul play!

We found out later that she went to relieve herself, gave a full report to her mother then sat to play with her doll peacefully.

We were getting frustrated! The weapons were not enough! Most of them were too simple, no lights or noise. The hand grenades were nothing but empty plastic.

We wanted shock and awe!

Civility was restored briefly, just long enough for us to confer on adding more weapons.

At the back of the garden, it seems the owner started building an extra room but then decided to stop and rent out the house. There were still piles of left-over building material.

Who gives a damn about building! Bah! There is a war to be fought.

There was a pile of stones of varying sizes, and we decided these would make excellent hand grenades as they would make a real noise. Unlike the stupid plastic ones we had.

The war resumed.

The sounds were splendid.

Bang! Boom! Bang!

Every clonk clonk as the stone hit something went to our heads and vibrated within us with excitement and blood thirst.

Then suddenly there was the sound of:

Aaaaaah then crying.

We froze in place.

No, no, no. That is not good. Crying is not good.

Crying means Grandfather will come to get us.

It turns out my younger sister got hit by one of the stones in her head.

There was blood gushing out!

Disaster, time to hide!

We tried.

All our younger siblings turned on us. They pointed out where we were hiding then started complaining to my grandfather about various infringements on their freedom of choice because they got tired much earlier and wanted to stop but we would not allow them, they said!

They wanted to stop? Liars!

Of course, grandfather came for us. Me & my cousin. 8 & 10 yrs. Old so we should know better. No excuse.

“Come out here, I know you two are responsible so don’t try to hide”

Truly, there was no place to hide, at least for me. I sleep right next door to him after all!

He pulled us by the ears, gave them a good yank. I wanted to ask in protest “Why? Why the ears? Whoever said that yanking the ears improve thinking or make a person repent?”. Ouch!

He took us to the reception room (which was empty) and told us to sit there quietly and think over what we did.

Of course, my cousin and I decided this detainment was unfair and unlawful, but we had to endure it at least until our fathers came back from work. Not that they would go against their father, the Patriarch of the family and its spiritual & emotional caretaker.

Once we accepted the inevitable, we talked and discussed things long & hard.

By the time we were let out to have dinner we felt we understood the situation and came up with great solutions.

First and most importantly: More, bigger, better weapons for all our armies!!

Then more allies (from other branches of the extended family)!! It was time this whole family decided which side they wanted to be on.

Of course, I immediately started to plot in my head how I can get more allies than my cousin. I expect he was doing the same, but I had a great advantage.

I can use both reason and drama to have the upper hand and win the war!! A boy was limited in that sense if he didn’t want to be ridiculed. All fair in war!

And win I must, not matter what! Again, I am sure he is thinking the same, but he is delusional because I am right!!

In the last seconds just before I fell asleep that night, a voice in my mind asked:

“Win what?”

7^th Nov 2022

I hope it is clear this (mostly real) story from my childhood is not really about toy guns!

However, I wanted to add this point to avoid misunderstanding.

I do not support being fanatical about any aspect of child play. I think children need to explore on their own terms for brain development.

However, opportunities need to be balanced out.