Nadia Hashimi - The Pearl that Broke Its Shell

Carefully, quietly, I told Khala Shaima about Abdul Khaliq wanting to take another wife and what Badriya and Bibi Gulalai had said about me.

She said nothing but I could tell the news unsettled her. She looked anxious.

“Did they say how soon?”

I shook my head.

“Dear God, Rahima. This is not good.”

Her words made me more nervous.

“We have to figure something out. But keep this to yourself for now. Remember, the walls have mice and the mice have ears.”

I nodded, blinking back tears. I had hoped Khala Shaima would say something else. That the rumor was absurd. That I was safe here as Abdul Khaliq’s wife.

“Things don’t always work out the way you think they will. I bet you’ve been wondering what became of Bibi Shekiba. Shall I pick up where I left off?”

I half listened to my great-great-grandmother’s story. My mind was preoccupied.

I did have to figure something out. And I should be able to, shouldn’t I? Why did it matter if I wore a dress now? Why did it matter that I no longer bound my breasts flat? I wanted to be the same person I had been. Zamarud let nothing get in her way. She wore a dress and she had married and she campaigned to get a seat in the jirga . A seat she occupied as a real parliamentarian.

The dress didn’t hold her back as it did me. I felt restless. I thought how much more comfortable I would be if I could just button my shirt and walk into the street. If I could just slip into my old clothes… how much more capable I would be. Zamarud might have disagreed but the clothes meant something different to me because I’d lived in them.

The dress, the husband, the mother-in-law. I wished I could toss them all aside.

When Shekib had been a girl, she’d heard about a woman in a nearby village condemned to stoning. It was the talk of their town as well as the neighboring towns.

The woman had been buried shoulder-deep in the earth and encircled by a crowd of onlookers. When it was time, her father had thrown the first stone, striking her squarely in her temple. The line continued until she slumped over in atonement.

Shekiba had listened to the story being recounted by her uncle’s wife. Her mouth gaped at the horror of such a punishment and the grains of rice she was sifting fell through her drifting fingers and missed the bowl. An anthill of rice collected on the floor.

“What had she done?”

Her uncles’ wives turned around and paused their conversation, surprised. They often forgot she was there.

Bobo Shahgul’s eyes narrowed seeing the wasted rice on the floor.

“She ruined her father’s life and gave her entire family nothing but grief!” she said brusquely. “Watch what you’re doing, you absentminded fool!”

Shekiba looked down to see the mess she had made. Her mouth closed sharply and she turned her attention back to the rice. Bobo Shahgul tapped her walking stick in warning.

Sangsaar? A chill coursed through Shekib’s veins as she looked at Benafsha and pictured her half-buried. Stones hurled at her head.

She asked no more questions of Benafsha. The room was silent but for the grumbling of two empty stomachs.

Two days passed without food or water. The door did not open once, though Shekib could see people walking behind it, stopping and listening before walking off. From the slit beneath the door, Shekib could make out the soles of army boots and knew soldiers were guarding them.

On the third day, the door opened. An army officer looked down at the two women, curled up on the floor. Shekib pulled herself to stand. Benafsha barely stirred.

“Guard. Khanum Benafsha.”

Shekib dusted her pants off and straightened her back.

“Your offenses against our dear king are grave and reprehensible. You are both to be stoned tomorrow afternoon.”

Shekib gasped. Her eyes widened in disbelief. “But, sir, I—”

“I did not ask you to speak. You have shamed yourself enough, have you not?”

He turned around abruptly and slammed the door shut behind him. Shekib heard him order a soldier to lock the door. A chain clanged and a key turned, leaving the two women with their fate.

Benafsha let out a soft moan once the door closed. She had known.

“They’re going to stone us both!” Shekib whispered, her voice tight and unbelieving. “Even me? I did nothing!”

Benafsha had her elbow tucked under her head. Her eyes gazed at the wall in front of her. She had known exactly what they would do to her. Why had she brought this upon herself?

“This is your fault! They’re going to stone me because of you!” She knelt at Benafsha’s side and grabbed her shoulders roughly. “Because of you!”

Benafsha rattled limply in her hands. “With Allah as my witness, I am sorry that you are here,” she said softly, her voice tearful and resigned.

Shekib pulled back and stared at Benafsha. “Why? You knew what they would do to you. Why did you do this? How could you do such a thing in the king’s own palace?”

“You would not understand,” she said for the second time.

“No, I do not understand how you could do something so stupid!”

“It is impossible to understand if you do not know love,” Benafsha whispered. Her eyes closed and she started to recite lyrics I’d never heard before. Phrases that I memorized because they echoed in my mind after she’d stopped talking and meant different things to me at different moments.

There is some kiss we want with our whole lives,

The touch of Spirit on the body.

Seawater begs the pearl to break its shell.

And the lily, how passionately it needs some wild

Darling!

At night, I open the window and ask the moon to come

And press its face against mine. Breathe into me.

Her melancholy verses pulled at my heart. I knew nothing of that kind of love. I knew nothing about pearls and shells either except that one had to free itself from the other. We were both calmer than we should have been, Benafsha because she had lived her love, and me because I had never known it.

The hours crept by.

Day turned into night and night became morning. One final morning.

Maybe this is how it is meant to be. Maybe this is how I will finally be returned to my family and saved from this wretched existence. Maybe there is nothing for me in this world.

Shekib swung wildly between anger, panic and submission in those hours. Benafsha whispered words of apology from time to time but mostly prayed. She held her head between her hands and atoned for her sins, said there was no God but Allah.

Allahu akbar, she whispered rhythmically. Allahu akbar.

There was talking outside their door. Shekib could not make out what they were saying but heard a few words here and there.

Whores. Stoning. Deserved.

Whores? Shekib realized she was a woman again. As guilty as the woman lying a few feet from her.

I have been both girl and boy. I will be executed as a girl. A girl who failed as a boy.

Stoning. Today. Stopped.

Stopped? What was stopped?

Shekiba listened carefully.

King. Pardon. Gift.

At hearing “gift,” Shekiba realized something was happening to her. She strained to hear the voices more clearly but could not make out most of what they were saying.

The door opened. The same ranked soldier reappeared, his face cross.

“Khanum Benafsha, prepare yourself. You,” he said, looking at Shekiba with disgust. “You will attend the stoning and then you will be punished for your crime. After that, you will be given in marriage. You should thank Allah that you have been shown a mercy you do not deserve.”