Ezra Choueke - Womb of Diamonds: A True Adventure From Child Bride Of Syria To Celebrity Businesswoman Of Japan

M y mother took me out for ice cream, and gave me much more than the two scoops I asked for I got married off instead! Please my friend, sit down, relax, and let me explain.

Everyone calls me Lucie, which is the more glamorous French version of my real name, Polissa. We were poor in 1933 and very seldom spent money on such luxuries but, in my defense, when a 13-year-old girl in French-occupied Aleppo Syria was offered sweets, they seldom asked any questions. I suppose I was so focused on the promised desserts that I ignored the signs that would change my life forever. I didnt know it then, but I would soon be removed by virtual strangers from the country of my youth, taken to far off lands with extremely different languages and cultures, have to fight my way out of poverty, and ultimately battle for my life.

On that hot summer afternoon, Mama carefully applied my makeup and made certain my beige dress fit correctly, then studied her own pretty face and three-quarter-length navy-blue dress in the mirror.

We left around three oclock and walked down Djemaliyeh, the large main street running by our house. First we saw a street vendor that sold orange ice cream. My mother asked kindly in a soft voice, Lucie, do you want one?

I exploded, Of course!

This snack was a poor womans ice candy: a little orange juice mixed together with a lot of water and frozen with a stick in it. We were not rich, so I was very happy to have this frozen orange treat. I took my time savoring each sweet taste, as a girl like me never knew how long she would have to wait for the next one. In the heat of the day, it was heaven

My mother glanced at her watch and said, Lucie, lets keep walking. How could I argue when she was in such a generous mood?

After about fifteen minutes, we came to a patisserie. My mother asked again, Lucie, do you want one?

Of course! I almost shouted.

I chose a chou a la crme, as this was my absolute favorite dessert. The cream was cold and refreshing, and the sugar on top was absolutely divine. Again, I took time to enjoy each densely whipped bite.

After I finished, she looked at her watch and asked, Lucie, do you want another one?

YES! I replied, perhaps too quickly to be polite. I could not believe my good fortune. I chose an clair very quicklynot allowing my mother any time to change her mind. This one had soft bread, chocolate sauce on top, and a custard center. As soon as it reached the table, I gobbled down the first bite so the owner of the patisserie would not allow her to return it. This dessert was better than the last and it tasted as though I were eating a sweet delicious cloud. I was already disappointed when I finished the last bite because my luck must have run out.

But my mother looked at her watch and said, Lucie, do you want another one?

Are you sure? I jumped in my seat, holding my breath.

Yes, Im sure, she answered with a smile.

Please! I fired back, close to ecstasy.

This time I chose more carefully. I figured, she hadnt changed her mind before; there was no reason for her to do it now. Sure enough, the sahlab, a sweet, pudding-like Middle Eastern treat, was eaten without any change of heart from the other side of the table. Maybe Mama had finally realized what a good daughter I was?

When I was only halfway done, Mama told me to hurry up and finish. She was apparently running late for an appointment.

No sooner had the last of the sahlabs cinnamon and pistachio crumbs disappeared from my plate, than we hurried off down the road at full speed. My mother didnt talk about her appointment, and I didnt ask. I was too busy enjoying the memory of the pastries and orange ice cream to talk about lifes trivial little details.

At the end of the street, there was a coffee shop. Mama sat down at a large table facing the road and pulled me down beside her. She looked nervously at her watch and said, Would you like anything else? I am getting a coffee.