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Text: On Fridays, Our House is a Zoo
Most people get Fridays off so they are special for almost everyone. But at our house, they’re not just special—they are wild. Every Friday, our big family gathers, and it’s chaos.
Mom wakes up early to prepare couscous. The smell of spices and the heat of the steam fill the kitchen. Dad sweeps the patio. All the cousins love to run around and play there. Grandma, who lives with us, makes some Halwet Ettabaa. Everyone loves those cakes. My siblings and I get ready for the mess that’s about to happen. Manel, my older sister, hides all the valuables and all the breakables. “Can’t trust those kids!” She says every single time.
Around noon, the first knock comes. It’s Uncle Karim and his family. Aunt Leila is carrying trays of sweets, and their twins rush past her to grab the best seats in the living room. “Don’t break anything!” Aunt Leila shouts, but the kids are already jumping on the couch. More cars pull up. Aunt Sarah’s car is very full. She has five children. The house fills up quickly.
The uncles go to the nearby mosque for the Friday prayer. They eat when they come back. The aunts gather in the kitchen, laughing and telling stories as they help Mom with the food. The cousins play noisy games, and someone always ends up crying.
When lunch is served, it’s pure madness. Plates are passed around, kids argue over who gets the most meat, and the youngest ones spill juice everywhere. But somehow, we all fit, squished together on chairs, couches, and even the floor, we are all full and we are all happy.
After lunch, the noise doesn’t stop. The kids race outside, chasing each other and yelling. The adults relax with coffee and pastries, still talking, still laughing.
By the evening, the house looks like a battlefield—crumbs on the floor, cushions out of place, and tired faces everywhere. But as the last car drives away, I can’t help but smile.
Every Friday, our place is a zoo. And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.