Khalti Chrifa.

Among other colorful characters in my father’s Mediterranean family was a witch. I’m serious. Khalti Chrifa - peace to her soul- was the most ancient one in the family, a widow, with fading blue eyes, deep wrinkles, a handkerchief tied at the top of her head that made her look like an old gypsy, the blindest faith ever, and a talent for telling terrifying stories to us kids at night at bedtime about heaven and hell and monsters. Though her vision was not very good, she still had all her wits, and directed the entire household of my uncle with an iron hand. Everything had to go through her, even things that were none of her business. Starting with marriages. So when my father, her sister’s prodigal son, came back from France with a French concubine (my mother), that he eventually married to conform to local morality rules, and me, she did everything she could to prevent him from marrying a “rumia”, that is, an infidel. I actually saw Khalti Chrifa in some of her witchcraft sessions, her specialty was to melt lead over a brasero while uttering incantations from God and Satan alike, I suspect. That was quite a sight, seeing her ghostly face over the fumes of the brasero, and knowing this, of course no one dared going against her will, as she could always cast a spell on you. When she failed with my father, she also later on tried with me, telling me never to marry a “rumi” but a Muslim – and somewhat succeeded, since my first husband was a Muslim- But I guess that like my father I was too much of an independent spirit to fit in the mold, and that lasted only a time. To render her justice, she did all this of course with good intentions – saving us from damnation- and she was also a generous woman: she adopted an orphan who was raised with us, and took care of him no matter what, till the end. When she died he immigrated to Germany and made his life there, a successful one, and he now got a summer house home where he comes with his family for vacations.