I still recall with fond remembrance, those happy sunlit days of my childhood in my desert home. It was a time of love and laughter, of song and dance, and of wonders and delights.
My parents were Greeks from Antioch, the capitol of the Roman province of Syria. We were a family of seven: my parents, two brothers, two sisters, and myself. We were a close and loving family. My brothers were in the Queen's army, my oldest sister was married, and the other was unmarried and busy with her social life. I was like an only child.
My father was the treasurer for the Kingdom of Palmyra. He had an important position and, although he was a foreigner, he was respected and liked. As a little child, I always knew when my father was coming home, and would go to the front gate to wait for him. My mother would put out a chair and I would sit there waiting. When I saw him, I would run to him with shouts of joy. I would run into his arms, and he would throw me high in the air, laughing. Sometimes I would fall asleep while waiting. When he came home, he would carefully pick me up so as not to wake me, and carry me into the house.
My mother was always gentle and loving. Because of my father’s important role in the kingdom, she was always busy in the life of the court. That she was beautiful and gorgeously dressed never impressed me ... she was just my mother. We always followed the same ritual when she put me to bed. She would tuck me in and tell me to sleep well. I would reply, "Sleep tight, do not let the bugs bite. Do not sleep loose, or you will get bit by a goose." Then she had to kiss me exactly in the center of my forehead. If she failed, I made her do it over again. Sometimes it took several tries.
An elderly Arab widow named Mamea served as my nursemaid. She was loving, kind and patient. I cannot remember my childhood without her by my side. She was always dressed in a dark embroidered robe to her sandals, with a black headband over her head and shoulders. Night and day, she was by my side; she was my guardian angel.
I remember the first time she took me into the oasis. The day was hot and dry, but in the shade of the palms, it was cool. Mamea held my hand as we strolled about. To me, it was a mysterious and enchanted place. The trees, with thick unbranched trunks and their heavy crown of palms, towered above me, and I felt like a tiny, moving insect. Bunches of glistening dates hung down like grapes from the branches. I felt that the trees were alive, but they could not move or speak, and they were silently offering their fruit as gifts for me to take. "Come, take my dates and eat," they seemed to be whispering, but the dates were too high for me to reach.
Here and there in a clearing, caravans were resting. Horses, camels and donkeys, all looking tired, were patiently standing or sitting on their haunches with their front legs folded under them. The cargoes had been unloaded and were scattered on the ground. Inspectors from the Treasury were examining the cargo and collecting taxes. I saw cages with iron bars holding strange wild animals and birds. Some were pacing back and forth in their cages, others were screaming or barking, and I knew they were telling me that they wanted to be free.
There were crowds everywhere. Mamea pointed out to me people from every nation in the world: China, East Indies, Persia, Arabia, Armenia, Mesopotamia, Africa, Egypt, Judea, Phoenicia, Syria, Asia Minor and Europe. The colors of their skin were every shade of black, brown or white, and their eyes were black, brown or blue. They wore their hair of black, brown or yellow tied in knots, held down with headbands, or hanging loose. Some men were wearing black cone-shaped hats; others wore headbands. Some were in their colorful native dress, while others wore loincloths.