A magical memory: fresh dates, figs and pistachios

Threading Together

My food memory is one of my warmest childhood recollections. We moved to Saudi Arabia when I was 3 as my dad was working for BAC when they had the commission to build planes for the Saudi Air Force. From this time I recall swimming with fish in a secluded pool in the desert, playing amongst gargantuan natural sand sculptures in Al Hofuf, spotting swordfish in the sea, and so on. My fondest memory was visiting my dad’s friend who was a bedouin with a large encampment in the desert  made on many lush tents and a single building with  goats living on the flat roof and a large fire in the centre of the room. Everyone ate from an enormous dish of fragrant rice full of fruit and nuts. I was taken into an adjoining space by a group of beautifully perfumed woman dressed in black silk. They removed their veils, revealing long hair, ornate golden jewellery and impeccable make up. The women hugged me, marvelled at my auburn hair and freckles, fed me fresh dates, figs and pistachios. They laughed, hugging me and saying Ta’ala Huna Habibi to me which means ‘come here darling’ in Arabic. It is a magical memory from one of the happiest times in my life . (Steph Wallace)