Nadia Hashimi - The Pearl that Broke Its Shell

And while Shekiba had no knowledge of such diplomatic matters, she too became enchanted by the prospect of the king paying a local visit. She imagined horses and regal clothing, guards at his side.

She adjusted her head scarf and poured fresh cups of tea, hoping to distract their appetites for a few more minutes. She carried a tray into the living room and kept her head bowed, wanting to be as discreet as possible.

“It is a huge honor. This is the opportunity I have been waiting for. Thanks be to Allah, I have called in many favors and secured the makings of a fine feast for the night. We will make qurbani; a goat will be slaughtered in the king’s good name. I am sparing no expense.”

“How are you to pay for this? How many people will be with him? Surely, there will be at least a dozen pretentious mouths to feed!”

“There is a price to pay for everything but it is a chance I could not let escape. Sharifullah has been hakim of this province for long enough. It is pure good fortune that he has traveled across the country now to attend the funeral of his cousin.”

“Good fortune for you!” Azizullah laughed. “But not for his cousin!”

“Forget about his cousin, dear brother. The point is that this is a chance for our family to reach the next level. That is what our father would have wanted to see, may Allah forgive him and keep him in peace. If I am made hakim, we will control the entire province! Imagine the life we would have.”

“You would be an excellent hakim, certainly. And from what I have heard, many of the villages are displeased with Sharifullah’s rulings.”

“The man is spineless. The kingdom would all but forget our province were it not for the crops our land produces every season. Sharifullah has done nothing for us! When Agha Sobrani and Agha Hamidi disputed that land by the river, it was his idiotic idea that they should each take half.”

Shekiba listened as she gathered the empty teacups and brought the dish of nuts closer to the men.

“Now, neither Sobrani nor Hamidi has any respect for him. They are equally dissatisfied with him. He should have given the land to Hamidi. His claim was reasonable and his family carries more clout than Sobrani’s. Better to have Hamidi’s full support and anger only Sobrani!”

Irrefutable logic. Shekiba quietly crept out of the room. She had grown accustomed to Hafizullah’s animated speeches and found him entertaining in some way. At the same time, she was thankful that Allah hadn’t placed her in his custody, as she was certain he was a brute in his home.

As soon as she left the room, she heard Hafizullah’s tone change. She stopped and tilted her ear toward the living room.

“And how are things going with your new help? Shekiba- e-shola is fulfilling her duties around the house?”

“Well enough,” Azizullah answered. “Marjan has not had many grievances about her.”

“Hmmph. That family must be so relieved to have unloaded her. From what I have heard, Bobo Shahgul was heartbroken at her son’s passing. Could not bear to have his child in her home because she was a constant reminder of her dead son.”

“You would have heard more than me. The girl does not speak of her family. Actually, she hardly speaks at all. She has that much sense.”

“At least your wife doesn’t have to worry about your taking her as a second wife!” Hafizullah joked, slapping his hand on his thigh loudly.

“No, she is not for marriage. She is able-bodied and does the work of a man. Sometimes it escapes us that she is, in fact, a girl. Her strength makes me marvel. I saw her just a few days ago carrying three pails of water and walking straight, as if it were no effort whatsoever. Her uncles told me she had been keeping up her father’s farm along with him.”

“More useful than a mule. Good,” Hafizullah said. “Whatever happened to her father? I remember running into him just after his children were taken in the cholera wave. He looked terrible. Too sensitive, that man was.”

“His brother told me that he had not been feeling well in the last few months. Agha Freidun told me they had a conversation and he knew his time was coming. He made arrangements for his daughter to live with Bobo Shahgul and distributed his land, his tools and his animals among his brothers.”

Shekiba’s eyes widened.

A lie! My father had no such conversation!

He had not seen his brothers after her mother died. She wondered if this story was Kaka Freidun’s idea or Bobo Shahgul’s. Her family was swooping in to pick up any scraps her father had left behind.

That land should be mine. My grandfather gave it to my father. My father wanted nothing to do with his family. I should be the owner of that land.

Shekiba wondered where the deed was. The deed was a simple document signed by her grandfather, her father, a few distant relatives and a village elder to confirm the transaction. Surely her uncles must have been looking for it when they dumped the contents of the house outside.

“Shekiba? What are you doing here?”

Teacups rattled in Shekiba’s startled hands. Marjan had come up behind a very distracted Shekiba. She looked puzzled to see her frozen a few feet away from the living room.

“ I just… chai…, ” she mumbled, and headed directly for the kitchen, her head bowed to conceal her hurt eyes.

The scent of cumin and garlic filled the room. Azizullah and his brother shared their meal, tearing off chunks of flatbread and picking up morsels of rice and meat. Shekiba wondered if any would be left for the rest of the family. Meat was hard to come by, even in this household, and it seemed that the men were going to finish the week’s stock in one sitting.

Her mind began to wander as she dried the pots. What would happen if she were to try to claim that land? The thought almost made her laugh. Imagine that. A young woman trying to claim her father’s land, snatching it from her uncles’ greedy claws. She tried to imagine taking the deed to the local judge. What would he say? Most likely he would kick her out. Call her insane. Maybe even send her back to her family.

But what if he didn’t? What if he listened to her? Agreed with her? Maybe he would think it was her right to have her father’s land.

Marjan was in the kitchen with her. She was sifting through the rice for any small stones.

“Khanum Marjan?” Shekiba said meekly.

“Yes?” Marjan paused and looked up. Shekiba spoke so rarely, one had to take notice.

“What happens to a daughter when her father… if her father has some land… if he is not…”

Marjan pursed her lips and cocked her head. She could sense the question buried in Shekiba’s ramblings.

“Shekiba- jan, you are asking a ridiculous question. Your father’s land will go to his family, since your brothers are dead, may Allah grant them peace.” Marjan’s response was blunt but it was reality — regardless of what the laws might say. Her candor gave Shekiba confidence to speak openly.

“But what about me? Am I not rightfully an heir to the land? I am his child too!”

“You are his daughter. You are not his son. Yes, the law says that daughters may inherit a portion of what the son would inherit but the truth is that women do not claim land. Your uncles, your father’s brothers, have no doubt taken the property.”

Shekiba let out a frustrated sigh.

“My dear girl, you are being quite ridiculous. What do you think you would do with a piece of land? First of all, you are living here now. This is your place. Secondly, you are unmarried and no woman could possibly live on a piece of land alone! That is simply absurd.”

I lived alone on that land for months. It didn’t feel absurd. It felt like home.