Read Desert Flower for Free Online Page B

strong as she is, then I can say my life has been a success.
    Our family was typical in our choice of occupations, since over 60 percent of Somalis are pastoral nomads, earning a living by raising animals. My father periodically ventured into a village and sold an animal in order to buy a sack of rice, fabric for clothes, or blankets. Occasionally, he sent along
     
    his goods for sale with anybody traveling into town, and a shopping list of items he wanted purchased in return.
    Another way we made money was by harvesting frankincense, the incense mentioned in the Bible as one of the gifts the Magi brought the baby Jesus. Its scent is still a valued commodity today, as it has been since ancient times. Frankincense comes from the Boswellia tree, which grows in the highlands of northeastern Somalia. It’s a beautiful little tree, about five feet tall, and the limbs hang in a curve like an open umbrella. I would take an axe and strike the tree lightly not enough to damage it just enough to slash the bark. Then the tree would bleed a milky fluid. I waited a day for the white juice to harden into gum; in fact, sometimes we would chew it like gum for its bitter taste. We gathered the clumps into baskets, then my father sold them. My family also burned frankincense at night in our campfires, and whenever I smell it today I’m transported back to those evenings. Sometimes, in Manhattan, I’ll find incense advertised as frankincense. Desperate for a little reminder of home, I buy it, but its smell is such a weak imitation that it can never match the rich exotic perfume of our fires burning in the desert night.
    Our large family was also typical in Somalia, where the average woman has seven children. Children are looked at as the future old-age pension for the elders, as they will take care of their parents when they grow old. Somali children regard their parents and grandparents with great respect, never daring to question their authority. All your elders, even your older brothers and sisters, must be treated with respect, and you must follow their wishes. This fact was one of the reasons my rebellious acts were considered so incredibly scandalous.
    Part of the reason for large families, other than lack of birth control, is that the more people who Share the work, the easier life is. Even basic functions such as having water not plenty of water, or enough water, but any water at all required back-breaking work. When the area around us dried up, my father went in search of water. He strapped huge bags onto our camels, bags my mother had woven from grass. Then he left home and was gone for days until he found water, filled the bags, and traveled back to us. We tried to stay in one spot waiting for him, but each day would become increasingly challenging, as we traveled miles and miles to water the herds. Sometimes we had to move on without him, yet he always found
     
    us, even without the aid of roads, street signs, or maps. Or, if my father was away, if he’d gone to the village in search of food, one of the children had to do this job, because Mama had to stay home and keep everything running.
    Sometimes the job fell to me. I’d walk and walk for days, however long it took to find water, because there was no point in coming back without it. We knew never to come home empty handed, because then there was no hope. We had to keep going until we found something. No one accepted the excuse “I can’t.” My mother told me to find water, so I had to find water. When I came to the Western world, I was amazed to find people complaining, “I can’t work because I have a headache.” I wanted to say to them, “Let me give you hard work. You’ll never complain about your job again.”
    One of the techniques for providing more hands to ease the workload was increasing the number of women and children, which means that having multiple wives is a common practice in Africa. My parents were unusual in that only the two of them were together