Nadia Hashimi - The Pearl that Broke Its Shell

Benafsha’s limp body flashed over and over in Shekiba’s mind as she received her own punishment. She had been sentenced to a hundred lashes, which were delivered precisely by one of the soldiers, a general standing watch over him. Shekiba had been made to kneel while they stood behind her, her wrists bound as Benafsha’s had been.

Though her face twisted in pain with each blow, she did not make a sound.

Her back stung, hot and wet. The soldier had a book tucked under his arm, as law instructed, to soften the striking force. They counted out loud and when they reached a hundred, Shekiba’s wrists were untied and she fell on her side in exhaustion. The men said nothing and left the room.

Her mind drifted. She felt water on her lips. Hands rubbed ointment on her back. It was nearly a day later before Shekiba realized Dr. Behrowen was tending to her wounds. The British woman clucked her tongue and shook her head, almost as an Afghan would, muttering something that Shekiba did not understand.

Shekiba closed her eyes to block the horror but it was still there, the images seared onto the insides of her eyelids. She opened her eyes again and looked at Dr. Behrowen. She was squeezing water out of a wet rag. She considered Shekiba carefully.

“ Dard? ” she asked, her British accent blunting the letters so thickly that the word was unrecognizable. She had to repeat herself twice more before Shekiba understood she was asking about pain.

Shekiba shook her head. Dr. Behrowen raised her eyebrows and turned her attention back to the bucket of rags.

Shekiba looked down. She was wearing thin pantaloons that tapered at her ankles. A head scarf lay strewn across a chair in the corner of the room. Shekiba realized she was in Benafsha’s room in the harem. Through the walls, she could hear women chatting. She remembered how Benafsha had begged and prostrated herself before them, asking forgiveness and mercy from a crowd focused only on saving their own skins.

The door opened and Halima peered in.

“Can I come in?” she asked quietly, looking at Dr. Behrowen.

Dr. Behrowen must have understood; she nodded and waved Halima into the room.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better.” Her throat felt like sandpaper.

“I’m glad.” She knelt at Shekiba’s side. “Things have been ugly here the last few days. Never have we experienced such things.”

Shekiba had nothing to say in reply. Halima sighed heavily and looked quickly at Dr. Behrowen with tears in her eyes.

“Tariq is outside. She wants to see you but she’s very nervous. Is it all right if she comes in for a few moments?”

Shekiba nodded. She remembered seeing Tariq when she turned her gaze from Benafsha’s stoning. Tariq’s mouth and eyes were open wide with horror, a small pool of vomit at her feet.

Halima placed a gentle hand on Shekiba’s forehead before she stood and quietly walked out. Shekiba wished she would come back, stroke her hair and hold her hands as a mother would. Instead, Tariq rushed in and fell at Shekiba’s side; the trembling in her hands vibrated her voice.

“Oh, Allah have mercy! Are you all right? Are you badly hurt? What did they do to you?”

“I was punished.”

“How?”

“One hundred lashes.”

Tariq scanned her body, her brows furrowed together in angst. “How awful! How very awful! Oh, Shekib! Did they say why they were punishing you?”

“Because I did not do my job as a guard.”

“Oh, Allah forgive us! We were all as guilty as you!” she whispered, as if afraid the palace would hear her.

“But only I had been on duty that night. Ghafoor made sure to tell them that.”

“She… I never would have imagined she could be so… I mean, I know she thinks only of herself but I just never thought she would do something like…”

“That’s what people do. She’s no different than anyone else.”

It suddenly occurred to Shekiba that Benafsha had been different. The general had offered leniency in exchange for a name. Although she must have known his offer was a lie, even the possibility of mercy didn’t faze her resolve. She never named the man. Why had she done that? Why had she protected Agha Baraan?

“She said that they only wanted to talk to you. She said she did not know they were going to punish you.”

Shekiba recalled Ghafoor’s shifting gaze on that night and on the day of the stoning.

“What did they tell you? Benafsha… she brought such shame to the palace but I never thought… I just cannot believe this happened here! I thought things were different here in Kabul, in the king’s palace!”

“No man could tolerate such an offense. The king would have shamed himself if he had agreed to a lesser penalty.”

“And what will become of us guards?”

“I do not know.”

“What about you? Will they send you back to your family?”

Shekiba remembered that she had been spared for a reason — she was to be married! She pictured Amanullah’s face. Could it really be? Had he rescued her from execution to live on as his wife? Or maybe as a concubine? Even curled up on the floor with her raw back covered in salves, Shekiba yearned to be in a new home, her own home, and with child. She wanted to feel tiny palms pull at her face with unquestioning affection.

“No. I do not know where they will send me.” She decided to say nothing about the marriage until she knew more. She did not want word getting back to Ghafoor, lest she find a way to ruin things for her.

“Oh, what an awful mess! I’m so sorry, Shekib. I’m so sorry that you took the fall for this. The whole harem is terrified. They’re worried more will be punished, just to set an example, or maybe if they believe others were involved…”

Shekiba decided Tariq was exhausting her. She asked her to leave so that she could close her eyes. Tariq looked disappointed but nodded and walked out, her uniform looking bulky and awkward. She was less of a man now than she had ever been.

Shekiba was just drifting off when Tariq burst back into the room.

“Shekib!” she said excitedly.

“Please, Tariq, I just want to sleep for a few—”

“I know and I apologize, but the palace sent over a messenger. They asked me to tell you… to tell you to be ready in two days.”

Shekiba looked up.

Tariq’s face flushed with a nervous smile.

“They said you’re going to be married!”

It was the holiday of Eid. Five weeks since the attack on Zamarud. Badriya had received several letters from the director general. If she didn’t return to her duties immediately, she would be stripped of her position. Abdul Khaliq had made up his mind. We would be going back after the holiday.

Jameela told me what it was all about.

“He’s got a deal with a foreign company. You know these westerners he’s always going out to meet. He wants them to pay him to provide security. But it’s up for vote in the parliament whether or not that company should be allowed to build a pipe through our province. If they aren’t allowed to build, they won’t need his security.”

“That’s why he put Badriya in the parliament? To get her to vote for the pipe?”

“Yes. And to vote for all the right people for other positions, the people who will give him what he wants.”

Badriya’s voting made perfect sense now. Abdul Khaliq must have told her to watch for his friend’s signals. She wanted us to believe she actually mattered but she was a stooge. She was nothing like Hamida and Sufia. No wonder she seemed so awkward around them.

I was happy we would be returning, although this time I knew it would be even harder to leave Jahangir. This time I knew just how much I would miss him. But I dared not ask again if I could take him with me.