Nadia Hashimi - The Pearl that Broke Its Shell

Mahnaz looked over at her occasionally, nodding in agreement. Shekiba realized the king must have said something noteworthy. Shah pulled at her hand and she absentmindedly pulled raisins from her purse. He ate them one by one, bored by the speech.

Queen Soraya joined him at the podium. She wore a thin head scarf, plum colored, to match her skirt suit. She wore a fitted jacket with a brooch that caught the sunlight, over a pencil skirt that ended midcalf. Her shoes were smart — black Mary Janes with a modest heel.

This is his wife, the woman he spoke of as thoughtful and dedicated, strong-willed. Indeed, she does walk with her head held high. Then again, why shouldn’t she? She is queen to our beloved Amanullah.

Suddenly, Queen Soraya looked at her husband and pulled her head scarf off her head! Shekiba’s mouth dropped open. She looked at King Amanullah and was shocked to see him smiling and clapping. Mahnaz grabbed Shekiba by the forearm and broke into a grin. A mix of gasps and applause rippled through the crowd.

“Isn’t that amazing?” she said excitedly.

“What just happened? Why did she do that?”

“Weren’t you listening? He just said that the chador is not required in Islam! The queen is doing away with her head scarf!”

“But… how could she…”

“It’s a new day in Kabul! Aren’t you glad I dragged you here?” she said, nudging Shekiba with her elbow.

Amanullah went on to say a few more words with Soraya at his side. He declared her, his wife, to be the minister of education and queen to the Afghan people. He turned the podium over to Soraya. Shekiba looked to Shah, then turned her attention back to the stage. Today’s speeches were more interesting than she had anticipated.

Queen Soraya spoke eloquently and with a confidence that complemented her husband’s. Shekiba felt humbled and listened to her talk on the importance of independence.

“Do you think, however, that our nation from the outset needs only men to serve it? Women should also take their part as women did in the early years of our nation and Islam. From their examples we must learn that we must all contribute toward the development of our nation and that this cannot be done without being equipped with knowledge. So we should all attempt to acquire as much knowledge as possible, in order that we may render our services to society in the manner of the women of early Islam.”

“Imagine. Just imagine, being able to speak like her to a crowd of people this size. She is a remarkable woman. Oh, the people of Qala-e-Bulbul would just faint to see something like this, wouldn’t they?” Mahnaz said with a laugh.

Shekiba thought of her own uncles. No doubt they would have sneered and walked out on such a speech. A woman? Telling their wives to acquire knowledge?

It was an exhilarating day. Shekiba was vaguely aware that this day would change something, though she wasn’t sure what.

She’s a wise woman, Shekiba thought. A woman like that would have given my father’s land to me. She would have told my grandmother to send me to school instead of the fields.

Shekiba’s lip stiffened with resolve.

She knew Queen Soraya was speaking of changes that wouldn’t affect her.

My story ends here, she thought. She now had a better life than she could have imagined. Somehow she had found an escape from a much worse naseeb .

But something in Shekiba did shift. She had a glimmer of hope, a feeling that things might get better with this woman Amanullah had chosen over her. Her face flushed knowing it still felt that way to her, as ridiculous as it was.

She thought of the way she was beaten when she took the deed to Hakim- sahib . She thought of Benafsha succumbing under the weight of the stones.

But sometimes you have to act out of line, I suppose. Sometimes you have to take a chance if you want something badly enough.

Things would be okay for Shah, Shekiba knew. He was a boy and his well-connected father would make sure he had every opportunity. She thanked God for that.

And may Allah give my daughters, should I be blessed with any, a chance to do what Queen Soraya seems to believe is possible. May Allah give them courage when they are told they are out of line. And may Allah protect them when they seek something better, and give them a chance to prove they deserve more.

This life is difficult. We lose fathers, brothers, mothers, songbirds and pieces of ourselves. Whips strike the innocent, honors go to the guilty, and there is too much loneliness. I would be a fool to pray for my children to escape all of that. Ask for too much and it might actually turn out worse. But I can pray for small things, like fertile fields, a mother’s love, a child’s smile — a life that’s less bitter than sweet.

Iused all my strength to stay focused, to keep my composure. I couldn’t let anyone know that I had overheard what I had. Beyond that, I didn’t know what to do or who to turn to. Frankly, I didn’t think I could turn to anyone.

I sat beside Badriya in the following day’s session, ignoring the debate on funding for a roads project when everyone knew the decision was really in the president’s hands. And that he’d already made up his mind.

Tonight, Ms. Franklin was going to let us work more on the Internet. It was as important as learning to read and write, she said. The Internet was our gateway to the world.

I could have used a gateway.

While the debate of no consequence went on around me, a more important debate raged in my head. Should I go with Hamida and Sufia to the training center or should I stay with Badriya and the guards?

My hands were clammy and my shoulders stiff. I dreaded the session ending, knowing I would have to make a decision.

What does it matter? I thought. He already thinks I’ve snuck away from the guards. How could it get any worse?

But I was afraid. Maybe he would believe me, take my word that the guards had let me go. That Badriya had said it was all right. That I did nothing inappropriate or shameful at the resource center.

Impossible.

We were outside. I was looking at the three western soldiers on the opposite side of the street. They were leaning against a wall, talking with a crowd of young boys. Jahangir would have been one of them, I thought, if I’d been allowed to bring him with me . I wondered what the soldiers would do if I ran to them. They were here to help us, weren’t they?

We were just past the security check when Hamida called out to me. My heart raced. What would Khala Shaima tell me to do?

“Aren’t you going to come with us? Ms. Franklin’s expecting you!”

I looked at Badriya. She raised her eyebrows, wondering why I thought she would care where I went. She walked toward the car, which was parked a few meters away. I saw Maroof mumble something to Hassan, who nodded and mumbled something back.

Figuring I was doomed anyway, I took a leap and decided to go with Hamida. I didn’t know what I expected to come of my decision.

“I’m going to… I’m going to go with them. I’ll have her driver drop me off before they go to her apartment. Okay?”

Badriya shrugged her shoulders without bothering to turn around. I knew she didn’t want to give a formal answer, an answer she might have to defend to our husband. She got in the car and they drove off, melting into Kabul’s congested streets. I was relieved and petrified.

While we walked, Hamida talked and I thought of my husband. Twice, I thought I might vomit on the street. Sufia joined us two blocks from the parliament building. The guards walked a few feet behind us while the drivers stayed with the cars. With the traffic, it would have taken longer to drive to the resource center.