Douha and the Mystery of the Oak Tree

By Farah Yaghmour Elsaket and Farah Hassan

It's moving day! The chaos of moving to a new house and adapting to change can be daunting. But how can anyone focus on that when the new house has such a beautiful garden? And this is not just any garden. No. This garden has a secret - the mystery of the oak tree! Douha and her family say goodbye to their old house. Changing schools means havin

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alys Books
• Release date: Aug 2, 2021
• ISBN: 9780645354409

Book preview

Chapter 1:

Today’s the Day

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

I peer out the window and see the removalist truck reversing into the driveway, heading right towards our large pot plants. Dad notices and comes running out, waving his hands frantically in the air, calling for the driver to stop. So, the driver slams his foot on the brakes and, luckily, bumps into a pot only slightly.

‘Today is the day,’ I say to myself, full of joy, as I skip out of my almost empty bedroom to see my family, and I mean my WHOLE family — parents, sisters, aunts, uncles and cousins — all helping us carry boxes and shift furniture into the removalist truck.

Before I go any further, let me start by saying, peace be with you — or, Assalamu’alaikum, as we say in my family. I’m Douha Hassan, and we’re moving today. As excited as I am, I’m also extremely nervous! Moving doesn’t just mean a new home; it also means starting a new school. The thought of making new friends and meeting new teachers terrifies me. So, guess what’s keeping my mind off all of that — our amazing new garden. I fell in love with the garden the moment I laid eyes on it. What’s so special about this garden, you ask? Picture this: flowers of every kind and every colour you can think of, lined up in their wooden beds against opposite sides of the fence, vibrant in the sunlight.

And further down, at the very back of the garden, there’s a massive oak tree! There’s also a beautiful garden mosaic path, each tile filled with different coloured patterns, running from the porch to a wooden bench close by the oak tree. A lemon tree? We have that too. Would you like some oranges with those lemons? We have an orange tree as well! The great thing about these trees, Mum says, is the flowers that grow from them during the spring and give out the most beautiful aromas. Only one word comes to mind when I think about the garden: whimsical. An expression I have heard in the many books Siham has read to me. It’s like something out of a fairy-tale, something magical. I’m sure looking forward to spending a lot of time outdoors in that colourful, almost magical, garden.

My excitement is noticed by the only one not enjoying the move — my older sister, Siham. Why are you so excited? she asks, a little puffed out. Look at all the work we have to do. Trust me; this isn’t fun. She pushes her glasses back on her face and carefully picks up another box to place in the truck.

Not fun at all! my cousin Maycee chimes in after her as she follows Siham struggling with the box she is carrying. The thing about Siham is, she likes things to be organised and done in an orderly manner. I can imagine all this clutter would be getting to her. Boxes are everywhere, big and small. Someone’s even knocked over the box with our kitchen utensils in it. So now they are scattered all over the floor. I bet she would rather be curled up with a good book somewhere than being surrounded by big brown boxes.

My younger sisters, the twins, Safiya and Aisha, are making the most of this clutter. They ride their bicycles, weaving in and out of a maze they created from the empty boxes that lay around. I wish I could join them and ride my bike around, but my bike is old, the brakes don’t work, and it has dented rims.

Mum comes out carrying a box marked ‘kitchen’ and almost walks right into the boxes. Luckily, she holds her balance. She glares at the twins.

"GIRLS! These boxes need to be moved out of the way right now," she orders. They jump off in an instant and hurry to clear the way of boxes. Once they do that, they sit on the side, watching everyone walk in and out carrying boxes to the truck and back inside again to get more. Like the ball girls in a game of tennis, their heads turn left and right. After a while, they decide to be helpful and keep our water bottles filled with cool water. They even have a wet face towel ready to help Dad stay cool. Sweat is forming across Dad’s forehead as he carries a heavy box into the truck, and there are the twins fighting over who gets the wet towel to cool him down. As they eventually decide, they both run up to Dad, and together they wipe down his sweaty forehead. I carry my box filled with my favourite t-shirts into the car.

Douha, you don’t want to put that box in the truck? I hear Dad mumble from behind the towel as the twins wipe his face.

Nah, I’ll just leave it in the car to make sure it doesn’t go missing.

We’re all done! The truck doors are closed and locked, ready to head off, sending our belongings to our new home. Mum, Dad, my sisters and I stay behind to do last minute checks while the rest of my family head over to the new place to help unload.

We stand there, looking up at our old house one last time, remembering our wonderful memories. Mum sniffs and rubs her eyes, and I get a bit teary myself.

‘Goodbye, old home. May the new owners create wonderful memories, just like we did.’ It’s sad to say goodbye. I sure am going to miss it.

Come on, lovely ladies. To the car, Dad calls out to us. We all hop in. Bismillah, Dad says as he turns the car on.

As soon as Dad starts to reverse out of the driveway, Safiya and Aisha begin to sing. I’m sure those of you who have younger siblings understand what I mean when I think to myself, ‘Great! This is going to be a looong ride.’

I rest my head on the car window looking out one last time at what was my first home.

Our new address, 37 Arab St, Jamiston Place. A quiet street.

Is it a coincidence, or is it meant to be, that an Arab family like ours is moving into Arab St?