Tale of a Boon's Wife Read online

  “I gave Mother’s jeweler—the one she hired to make the jewelry for your wedding to Jamac—a handsome tip and had him add the cost of this necklace to Mother’s bill. I knew where he was because Mother sent me there with a note to cancel the order the day after you eloped.”

  “You shouldn’t have done that.”

  “I think she noticed the charge on the bill because she asked me if I had purchased an item when I went to the jeweler, but she left the room before I could answer.” Elmi traced the half-finished henna design on my hand. “I believe she wanted you to have it without having to admit it.” Elmi hugged me tight and stepped away from me. “Don’t forget to look at my drawing when you need to.”

  I pulled him closer. “Please, don’t leave.”

  Elmi unfastened my hands from around his neck. “I have to. It’s for the best.”

  He was right, but still, hot tears stung my cheeks. “I’ll miss you so much.”

  He took both my hands and kissed them. “If you promise to smile, I’ll come again and visit.”

  “I’d love that,” I said and followed him out of the room. I waited until Elmi and I were outside and away from the others before I asked. “What happened with Jamac and his family?”

  “They were angry with Mother and Father for not fulfilling their part of the deal, but they blamed Mother more. I heard Jamac’s mother say ‘A woman that can’t keep her daughter in line is not worth the marriage she enjoys,’ loud enough for Mother to hear after the news of your elopement came. As soon as Hawa returned without you, they packed their bags and left.”

  “And what about Hawa? Did she get into a lot of trouble when she came back?”

  “Mother fired her and threatened to have her arrested if you weren’t found safe, although she knew Hawa was leaving at the end of the month anyway, to get married.”

  “Was she angry with me? Did you ask her about me?”

  “She told me she’d pray for your happiness.” Elmi thought for a moment as if debating whether to say more. “I didn’t come here to talk about Mother. I came to wish you joy. Have fun at the party,” he kissed my hand and walked away.

  I nodded and watched Elmi until he disappeared.

  *

  By the time I finished with the henna decoration, the makeup, and the dress, the fear of Father’s retribution ebbed. Sidow’s mother and the ladies from her tribe adorned the Farmers’ Hall with traditional artifacts. The decoration was simple and elegant, the food delicious and plentiful. The happy atmosphere was contagious. Sidow and I sat at the head of the wedding table. “Thank you for everything,” I said to his mother when she brought a plate of dry, seasoned fruits to our table.

  Young girls from other farm families of the same tribe served the food. The dinner started with black bean salad served in small wooden bowls. The main meal consisted of spiced rice, camel meat, and mixed vegetables on large oval platters, each large enough for four guests to share. Once the dishes were collected and the tables were cleared, the music started. The first dance was the traditional Kaboobey dance. “This looks complicated,” I whispered to Sidow.

  “We’ll have to join in soon,” he said.

  “I don’t know how.”

  “Follow me and do as I do.” He stood up and extended his hand as soon as the second number began. “This is our song. I picked it myself. Come. I will teach you.”

  This reception was different from Omar’s. People didn’t take turns entering the stage, but came in together and left when they felt like it. There was no sharing of milk, no swearing to take care of each other forever. That had been done a day earlier in the privacy of our common room with only the tribe elders and the family.

  “Dance with me,” Sidow whispered.

  We started our own circle and other larger ones formed around us. At first, I couldn’t replicate Sidow’s elegant footwork. I stopped several times to observe his movements. We pulled out of one circle and joined another. After a while, the sound of the music rang in my ears, and vibrated within. I followed the beats and moved despite my inability to understand the steps. We fell into rhythm. Sidow’s arms hovering overhead as I followed his lead. My feet obeyed the beat of the drums, the singing of the flute, and whisper of the lyrics. I faced Sidow, and our eyes connected for a second or two before he turned around to guide me through the motions. We repeated the steps over and over.

  “You are dancing like an angel.” Sidow kissed me without missing a step.

  The tension that had built inside me over the worry of what Father might do evaporated, and I danced without inhibition as if I could have gone on forever.

  Sidow took my shawl and draped it over us. “This is the best night ever.”

  We danced under the shawl, and his smile grew bigger and brighter, until the music ceased. Hand in hand, Sidow and I went back to the head of the wedding table. Guests lined up for the formal well-wishing. Some hugged us, others shook our hands, and all wished us a prosperous future together.

  We didn’t leave the hall until all the guests were gone and the tables and decorations were stored away. A sense of happiness washed over me as we walked home openly as a couple. Alone in our bedroom, I kissed Sidow with passion, “I loved everything about our wedding party,” I said.

  “Everything?”

  I nodded and kissed him again, long and deep. After our love-making, I fell asleep listening to the happy laughter of the guests and seeing the dancers in my head.

  *

  I stayed in bed for a minute after I’d smelled the burning wood. “What is that?” I nudged Sidow.

  He didn’t move.

  The smell grew stronger, and I jolted upright. “Sidow!” I yelled. He stirred, but didn’t open his eyes. “Wake up!” I shook him hard.

  Sidow awoke with a start. “What is it?”

  “I think the house is on fire.” By then, traces of smoke were seeping between the wooden logs.

  When Sidow and I went outside, the kitchen was ablaze. Hasan and his mother stood next to us as long, hungry flames leapt from the roof of the kitchen and licked the sides of the house. The crescent moon blinked once then slipped behind a cloud as if it was hiding from the destruction.

  The whole neighborhood came to our aid with buckets of water and sand, fighting a fire that was too big for their equipment. After a while, we could only stand helplessly and watch the flames move from one wall to the next with a vengeance. The fire trucks in the nearby military compound didn’t arrive to help, nor did we expect them to. They never came to rescue the villagers.

  The fire eventually burned itself out after it had taken all that it could. In the end, only Hasan’s room was standing. Someone, I do not know who, brought stools and mats, and we sat under the big qurac tree, stunned by the destruction and grateful no one was hurt. Even the cows and goats in their shed survived. In the morning, the neighbors brought breakfast and tea. That afternoon, the white-haired elder walked with Sidow around the house so they could survey the damage together.

  I saw Sidow spot the boot prints leading away from the house as he and the elder assessed the foundation for rebuilding. Sidow’s body went rigid and his eyes grew large and scared.

  “Those are military boot prints. Father did this,” I said to Sidow when he came back to where we were sitting.

  “Don’t say that.”

  “We are lucky no one was hurt. This was a warning. He’ll kill us next time. He’ll come back to finish what he started. We should leave this village.”

  “I was born here and I’ll die here.” Sidow was adamant.

  I urged him, along with his mother. “We have to go away. My father sent whoever set the house on fire.” The thought of what else Father might do shook me.

  Sidow walked away from me toward the house, and I followed him. He placed his hand on the charred remains of what had been a kitchen wall. “Let us hope
they’ve accomplished their mission.”

  “They haven’t. Not if you and I are alive,” I said, but Sidow wouldn’t listen.

  “We’ll place our trust in Allah,” he said.

  *

  The clearing of debris and the plan to rebuild began two days later. Men from the neighboring farms came to help with the cleanup before the builders could be hired and the supplies ordered. Their wives took turns making food and drinks. The white-haired elder organized the farmers into teams to take different shifts, so the rebuilding could go as quickly as possible.

  Sidow’s mother and I, along with other neighborhood women, kept water pitchers and teakettles full. To entertain the men, Sidow built a wooden stand and placed the battery-operated radio on it. They listened to the songs and swung their hammers in time with the music, only stopping to hear the hourly news report.

  “The president announced his new cabinet earlier today,” the news anchor began the broadcast. The president’s latest attempt to quell internal unrest came three days after the fire.

  The cabinet reshuffling of 1981, two years earlier, had done nothing to contain the problem that had started at the end of the Somali and Ethiopian war. The reporter proceeded to read the list of the new minsters. I dropped the hot kettle of tea and almost scalded my feet when my Father’s name was announced among them.

  Father had wanted to trade his military uniform for a civilian suit for a long time, but up to now he had been unsuccessful. He even took us with him to the capital once to meet with the president and his family. I remember the party at the presidential palace and how Father paraded us around to show others what a great husband and father he was. Father came back from the private meeting still wearing his uniform and the four-hour ride to Bledley was spent in silence. Now Father had received the appointment he’d been after for so long, and I couldn’t have been happier.

  Father’s name and title, Hussein Nuur Minister of Finance, was third on the list as the reporter read through the new appointments.

  “That’s fantastic!” I couldn’t contain my joy as everyone, including Sidow, looked on.

  Sidow stopped hammering. “What does he know about finances?”

  The yard was silent, and I heard the blood course through my veins. “Nothing. I’m glad he got it because it means they’ll soon move away to the capital.” I was certain Father’s new assignment would save us from further assault at his hands. “Once out of the village, Father will have more important things to worry about.”

  It took a few minutes before the sound of the pounding hammers filled the air again, as men fell in time with the song that followed the news. No one mentioned Father or his cabinet position after that.

  *

  “Your mother is here with Elmi.” Hasan stood by the door. “Do you want me to show them in?”

  It was a week after the fire, and Sidow and his mother had gone to the market to pick up supplies. With nothing to do, I stayed in the room after Sidow kissed me good-bye. It was one of the very few times we’d had physical contact since the fire. We were sharing a room with my mother-in-law and Hasan, and that left little chance for privacy. The room was bare except for three straw sleeping mats and one cloth prayer mat. Hasan’s single bed, the only piece of furniture not destroyed, stood at the back. We convinced Sidow’s mother to take the bed and three of us slept on the floor.

  “No, I will come outside. Please take them to the sitting area,” I told Hasan. Since we’d lost the front formal room along with all the furniture, we used six gembers under the large qurac tree. We received guests, ate our meals, and spent most of the evenings there. But mainly the men building the house used it to take breaks, eat, or socialize during the day.

  I didn’t know why Mother had decided to visit, but I wished she hadn’t. “How are you?” I asked, as I motioned for them to sit. Neither she nor Elmi accepted the offer, so I remained standing, too.

  “I am doing well,” Elmi said.

  “I know I needn’t ask because I can see. But as your mother, I need to know how you are doing.”

  “I am not as bad as you and Father wanted me to be,” I said.

  “No Idil! Your father had nothing to do with it; I, certainly, had nothing to with it.”

  “Of course, Mother! The fire started all on its own.” I took a deep breath to slow my racing heart. “If you have come to see the destruction, go ahead and enjoy the view. Unfortunately, we are still alive.”

  Elmi stepped from behind Mother and placed his hand on my elbow. “Idil, we came…”

  “Let her be,” Mother stopped Elmi before he said more. “She is angry. I understand.”

  “I am more than angry. I am devastated.”

  “I am sorry.”

  “Why? Because we are still alive?” I asked, my anger deepening.

  “I had nothing to do with the fire, but I am still sorry it had to be this way,” Mother replied, her voice heavy with sorrow.

  “It didn’t have to be this way. You could’ve stood by me, taken my side for once, and helped me marry the man I love.”

  “I was always with you. Why do you think I insisted on making you do what was expected of you? I could do nothing more than to guide you to the right path. I am only a woman after all, and not much different from you, except in age. Neither of us can go against the laws of society. I tried to make you follow what you can’t change, only you wouldn’t listen. Any woman that steps outside the line will be destroyed and you are already halfway there. I want to die before I witness the other half of your destruction.”

  Mother had come as close as she was ever going to come to admitting she knew Father was behind setting my house on fire. I didn’t want to feel sorry for her, because I held her partly responsible for what had happened.

  I let Mother hug me when she took me into her embrace. After a while, she released me and looked me in the eye. “Your father and Rhoda and Omar left yesterday for Father’s swearing in ceremony. Elmi and I stayed so we could come and see you before we moved.”

  I knew my parents would move, but Elmi’s leaving made me shudder. “I’ll miss you,” I told him.

  Only an hour after they came, Elmi and Mother left. I stood by the rooster at the gate and watched them disappear into the alley and out of my life, perhaps for good.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The villagers joined us to celebrate the end of the rebuild. Their support got us through the tough times, and Sidow slaughtered a calf and held a great feast to show our appreciation. They ate and prayed for us and for better days to come, but it took me six months after my family moved to feel at peace with my surroundings. By then the laughter of family and friends filled the house, dispelling the sadness and dread that had lived with us since the day we eloped.

  The focus turned to something personal. Friends and neighbors in the village inquired if I was pregnant. “Nothing yet?” they whispered as if I were not there. Still others asked aloud.

  My mother-in-law gave the same answer after each doubt-filled question. “If Allah wills.” That didn’t stop people from asking. The inquiries came often and always to her even if I was in the room. She repeated the same answer, no matter who asked or how many times they did. “It’s all in Allah’s hands.”

  Even when I became pregnant, eight months after I was married, she said nothing. I gave her the news before I told Sidow, so she had the information next time the question arose. She only smiled, but never relayed the news.

  “Tell them so they stop. Tell them I am having a baby.” I didn’t want the women in the village to think I was barren.

  “Stop. Fadumo is coming.” My mother-in-law stared at the door.

  Our neighbor Fadumo, a childless widow, joined us most afternoons for tea. Fadumo took the stool next to mine and wrapped a white shawl around her. “Not ready to give us little ones?” For the first time, she directed the qu
estion at me.

  The sharp edges of her accusation pierced my skin. “I am pregnant.” I said it, very proud to show her I wasn’t barren.

  Fadumo blinked twice and took a long sip of the tea. “This is very sweet,” she said, and drained the mug. She left quickly and without saying good-bye.

  As soon as Fadumo disappeared behind the lemon trees, my mother-in-law turned to me. “Why did you tell her that?” It was the first time she’d ever been angry with me. “You don’t announce a baby before it’s time. You allow the baby to show when it’s ready. A baby that is mentioned before time never reaches term.”

  I was taken aback by the absurdity of the statement. Surely saying you were pregnant did nothing to the fetus in the womb. “You should have told me!”

  “I didn’t think I needed to tell you. Everyone knows.”

  “I didn’t! I have never heard anything like that before. My mother’s friends always discussed who was pregnant and who had a baby and they always had their babies alive and well.”

  My mother-in-law arched her brows to take in my naiveté. Clearly, she didn’t believe in women speaking about their pregnancies without consequences. “I have to call on the healers. I’ll be back soon,” she said.

  I hoped Sidow would come home from the market before she returned and reassure me all would be well, but he was still away when she came back. My mother-in-law took me inside the common room and pointed at a stool near the mat. “Sit here. We have men coming to read healing verses of the Qur’an over you.” She covered me with a bedsheet and placed a metal bowl filled with water to my right.

  Four men entered shortly after she left and formed a square around me. Each took one of the chairs she’d placed around the stool I was on. They read from the Qur’an. As each man read, the words calmed and soothed my worries.

  I stayed in place even after the men left. I could hear their muffled voices on the other side of the closed door. My mother-in-law came in, took the sheet off, and handed me the bowl of water. “Here, take this into the shower and use the water to wash your whole body.” She handed me a piece of paper. “Recite this as you wash. Throw the paper in with the water at the end of your shower to get rid of the evil eye.”