The Arabic Quilt An Immigrant Story

“Kanzi, habibti, you’re going to be late to the first day of school,” Mama calls.

“I’m coming, Mama.” Kanzi stuffs her notebook into her backpack and quickly but carefully folds her quilt-the special one Teita made in Egypt. Breakfast is delicious: Egyptian fava beans, homemade French toast, and watermelon with feta cheese and mint. Zacharia has watermelon juice dripping down his chin. He looks happy.

“I packed your favorite lunch for you: a kofta sandwich!” Baba exclaims.”Shukran, Baba,” Kanzi says, but secretly she wishes her baba would pack her a peanut butter and jelly sandwich instead. Her family has just moved to this town, and she doesn’t know anyone. She doesn’t want to be different.

In the car, Mama sings along with the songs on the Arabic radio channel. When they pull up to the school, Kanzi turns down the radio volume. Mama gives her a confused look.

“Good luck today,” Mama says. “Bahebek.”

“I love you, too,” Kanzi responds.

In class, Mrs. Haugen asks all the students to share three facts about themselves.

When it is Kanzi’s turn, she says bravely, “I am Egyptian-American. I love to swim. I love to write poetry!” Then she sits, looking down at her desk.

At lunchtime, Kanzi is surprised when Mama walks through the door. “Habibti, you forgot your lunchbox!”

“Habibti? Like The Hobbit? Isn’t your name Kanzi?” Molly snickers. Her classmates laugh with her as they walk to the cafeteria. Mrs. Haugen sees tears rolling down Kanzi’s cheeks. “What’s wrong?” she asks.

“Molly made fun of what my mama said,” Kanzi replies.

“Oh, Kanzi, being bilingual is beautiful,” says Mrs. Haugen.

“Don’t let anyone make you feel ashamed. You are special.”

That night, as Mama puts leftover shurbet ‘ads in Kanzi’s lunchbox, Kanzi gently pats Mama’s back. “Can you please pack me a turkey sandwich instead?”

Before bed, Kanzi writes a poem as she hugs her quilt, which smells like Teita’s home.

The next day Molly says, “Mrs. Haugen said I hurt your feelings. I’m sorry I laughed at your mom’s language. It sounded funny.”

“It may sound funny to you, but that is only because you don’t speak Arabic,” Kanzi says. She feels a lump forming in her throat. “My parents say that learning different languages makes a person smarter and kinder,” she blurts out.

“OK, whatever,” Molly says, skipping away.

Mrs. Haugen calls Kanzi to her desk after lunch. “I found this notebook on the floor, and it was opened to a lovely poem,” she says.

“I was describing my teita’s quilt,” Kanzi says. “When I visited her in Egypt, she gave it to me. My teita only speaks Arabic.” Mrs. Haugen smiles. “That is special. I would love to see your quilt.”

“Can I bring it to school?” Kanzi asks.

“Sure, bring it tomorrow,” Mrs. Haugen says.

The next day Kanzi unfolds her quilt in front of the class. Her heart is pounding. “This is my quilt that my teita in Egypt made,” she says,

“That’s cool! I want to make a quilt like that!” DeShawn says.

“Maybe we can all make one for our classroom!” Claire shouts.

Mrs. Haugen nods and smiles. On Friday, Mrs. Haugen makes an announcement. “I have an exciting project for us all to work on. Kanzi’s mom is here to help us make a quilt of all your names in Arabic.”

As Mama steps forward, Kanzi thinks how beautiful she looks. “Shukran for welcoming me here!” Mama says. “Kanzi and I will write down your names in Arabic, and you will copy your name on your own quilt piece.”

Molly is not enthusiastic about the project. “Who cares about Arabic? We live in America. My mom says we should only speak English.”

In response, Mrs. Haugen starts writing words on the board: algebra, coffee, lemon, sugar.

“Does anyone know what these words have in common?” she asks. “They come from Arabic words,” Kanzi whispers.

Mrs. Haugen nods. “Learning other languages besides the one we grow up with helps make the world a friendlier place. We can speak non-English languages and still be American.”

Everyone copies their Arabic names onto sheets of colored paper. Then they decorate their papers with glitter and jewels and place them on the table for the glue to dry.

“On Monday morning you will see a beautiful class quilt hanging in the hall,” Mrs. Haugen tells them.

The quilt hangs on the bulletin board outside Mrs. Haugen’s classroom. The colorful papers with their Arabic names have been cut into different shapes and sizes, and all the pieces are stapled together. Kanzi stands in awe, reading names in Arabic: Claire, Leah, Molly, Ivy, Jack, Lucas, Brianna, Chang, DeShawn, Sam, Angela, Lily, Aminah. Teachers and older students stop to look at the names, trying to figure out whose name is whose. “Wow, look at those beautiful letters-they’re like drawings!” they say.

Right across from it she is surprised to see another collage of names in a language she doesn’t recognize. “Those are my classmates’ names in Japanese!” Kura says. “Our teacher was inspired by your classroom’s idea, and she asked me to help write everyone’s name in Japanese. Aren’t languages a beautiful thing? They can truly unite us!”