Nadia Hashimi - The Pearl that Broke Its Shell

My father looked at me as if he saw a new person. No longer his son, I was someone he preferred to ignore. After all, I wouldn’t be his for much longer.

Ilingered around Shahla, brought her food and helped with her share of the chores. I regretted the way things had happened and wanted her to know how sorry I was that I’d pushed her into Abdul Sharif’s home. These things I told her while she stared off. But Shahla was too kind to stay angry long. And we didn’t have long.

“Maybe we’ll be able to see each other. I mean, they’re all part of the same family. Maybe it will be like here and we can see each other every day — you, me and Parwin.”

“I hope so, Shahla.”

My sister’s round eyes looked pensive. I suddenly realized how much she resembled our mother and felt the urge to sidle up next to her. I felt better with her shoulder touching mine.

“Shahla?”

“Hm?”

“Do you think… do you think it will be terrible?” I asked, my voice hushed so Madar- jan and Parwin wouldn’t hear.

Shahla looked at me, then at the ground. She didn’t answer.

Khala Shaima came over. She’d heard rumblings through the town that Abdul Khaliq and his clan had paid our family two visits. She figured my father was up to something. Her knuckles whitened when Madar- jan told her, sobbing, that her three eldest daughters were to be wed next week.

“He’s really done it. The ass made himself quite a deal, I’m sure.”

“What was I to do, Shaima, with a room full of gray-haired men? And he is their father. How could I have stopped anything?”

“Every man is king of his own beard,” she said, shaking her head. “Did you try to talk to him?”

Madar- jan just looked at her sister. Khala Shaima nodded in understanding.

“A council of asses. That’s what you had gathered here. Just look at these girls!”

“Shaima! What am I supposed to do? Clearly, this is what Allah has chosen as their naseeb —”

“Oh, the hell with naseeb! Naseeb is what people blame for everything they can’t fix.”

I wondered if Khala Shaima was right.

“Since you know so much, tell me what you would have done!” Madar- jan cried in exasperation.

“I would have insisted that I be present. And I would have told Abdul Khaliq’s family that the girls were not yet of age for marriage!”

“A lot of good that would have done. You know who we’re dealing with. It’s not some peasant from the streets. It’s Abdul Khaliq Khan, the warlord. His bodyguards sat in our living room with machine guns. And Arif agrees with the plan. Do you honestly think they would have listened to anything I had to say?”

“You are their mother.”

“And that’s all I am,” Madar- jan said sadly. Her voice grew quiet. I’m sure she didn’t think any of us could hear them. “There is only one thing I could think of doing.”

“What is that?”

Madar- jan looked down, her voice lowered.

“A death in the family would mean there could be no wedding for at least a year.”

“A death? Raisa, what in the hell are you talking about?”

“It happens all the time, Shaima. You and I have both heard stories. Remember Manizha from the other side of the village?”

“Raisa, you’ve lost your mind! Just think about what you’re saying! You think setting yourself on fire is going to solve any problems? You think orphaned girls are better off than married ones? And what about the little ones? What do you think they’ll do without their mother? For God’s sake, look at your in-laws! You’ve got two widows in this compound and your brothers-in-law are eyeing them already.”

My heart pounded so loudly I was certain they could hear it.

“I just don’t know what else to do, Shaima!”

“You have to find a way to turn them down. To make Arif turn them down.”

“Easier said than done, Shaima! Why don’t you come for the nikkah ? Bring your big mouth and I’ll see what you do then.”

“I will be here, Raisa. Don’t think I won’t.”

Madar- jan looked exhausted. She leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes; the shadows under them had darkened since yesterday.

We gathered around Khala Shaima.

“My girls, let me tell you a little more about Bibi Shekiba. As much as I hate to think it, her story is your story.” She sighed and shook her head. “I suppose we all carry the story of our ancestors in us. Where did we leave off?”

Two days passed before Shekiba could stand. Her lip was swollen and scabbed, her legs and back bore multiple bruises and each breath yanked her ribs in different directions.

It wasn’t her naseeb to claim her father’s land. Instead, Azizullah had dragged her back to the house and beaten her for an hour. Every time his strikes slowed, he would yell and huff about the humiliation she had caused him. His momentum would pick up again and he’d toss her left and right with each blow.

Marjan had watched from the doorway, shaking her head. She had one hand over her eyes and when she could watch no more turned her back and left. Shekiba did not notice. She had let her mind drift long ago.

Marjan came to her three times a day and brought her tea and bread. She would prop Shekiba up and dribble tea into her mouth with small lumps of wet bread. She rubbed an ointment on Shekiba’s back and on her cut lip.

“Stupid girl. I warned you not to bring up such matters. Now look what you’ve done to yourself,” she muttered over and over again.

Shekiba wished Azizullah would have killed her. She wondered why he hadn’t.

She did not see him, but she could hear his voice. His mood was sour and the children avoided him. Marjan could not.

“Make sure she’s up and ready today. No excuses.”

“She is weak but I will see what she can—”

“Weak? If she’s so weak, what was she doing walking through town, following Muneer and his son around? Why did I find her at Hakim’s front door? She’s a liar and the sooner we rid ourselves of her, the better. No excuses. She will be up and ready today!”

Shekiba heard the words and the situation began to register. Today was the day King Habibullah would pay a visit to Hafizullah. Today was the day she would be gifted again.

Azizullah left early in the morning and Marjan huffed for an hour before coming to Shekiba.

“Come on. Time to get washed up.” Shekiba was lifted to her feet by a woman half her height but twice her width. Marjan guided her to the washroom and let her slide onto the floor. “You stupid girl. You’ve made more work for me! God knows you won’t last at the palace if you pull tricks like this.”

“I only wanted what should be mine. You would have done the same,” Shekiba said flatly.

“No, I would not have! You think you’re the only girl who should have inherited land? My brothers divided our land and not one square inch of it was deemed mine. That’s how things are! You accept it or you die. It’s that simple.”

“Then I should die.”

“Maybe so, but not today. Now get undressed so you can take a decent bath.”

Azizullah returned in the evening, his mood much improved.

“What a day it’s been! Hafizullah outdid himself! Never have I seen so much food. I even met with some of the king’s advisers. Good people with a great deal of influence. I think this visit will bring good fortune to our family and our town. We have put ourselves under King Habibullah’s nose and he will surely remember how hospitably he has been treated here.”

“Did you speak to the king too?”