Words in the Dust (7 page)

“Maybe getting married is a bad idea,” Zeynab said. “It takes too much work.” It was a week later. We were sitting on the front porch, taking a moment to relax after working all day to get ready for the shirnee-khoree. In addition to our usual chores, we had to cook more than ever before. It was like making three or four regular meals, but beyond buying naan and cooking rice, chicken, and lamb, we also had to prepare sweets. All day the kitchen blazed hot as we baked cakes, roasted almonds for sugaring, and even made candy brittle. After that, we had to wash up and get dressed. Tahir Abdullah had sent Zeynab a pretty lavender dress to wear for the night, and I tied purple ribbons in her hair.

Malehkah’s sister Tayereh had arrived late in the afternoon with her husband, Uncle Ghobad, and Malehkah’s mother Farida — too late to help prepare for the party. Now that Baba, Uncle Ghobad, and Najib had taken the boys to Hajji Abdullah’s to celebrate with the men, and everything and everyone was ready for the shirnee-khoree, it felt good to enjoy some simple quiet time with my sister.

“Tonight will be great.” I patted her back. “Just like we always dreamed about.”

Zeynab stared straight ahead and nodded, her hands folded tightly in her lap. She looked beautiful with her
makeup and the ribbons, but I could tell she felt nervous. “Anyway, at least we don’t have to cook for the men tonight,” I said.

“Or watch the boys. There’s enough to worry about without having to look after them all night.”

I shook my head. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

“What if the party doesn’t go well? I mean the Abdullahs are a big, rich family and we’re just … Well, our family isn’t as large. They won’t even all be here tonight.”

“That’s fine for me,” I said. Given the short notice, Baba’s brother’s family couldn’t travel from Kabul in time for the shirnee-khoree. Uncle Ramin had stayed in the capital when Baba fled the fighting there just before I was born. He and his wife Halima and their daughter Khatira had visited only twice that I remembered, once shortly after Khalid was born and then again for Habib’s birth. Each time Baba and Uncle Ramin had ended up shouting at each other over old arguments and new disagreements. Uncle had sent word through Hajji Abdullah’s satellite phone that they would arrive in An Daral the night before the wedding. “I hate the way they always talk about how much better their precious, modern city life is in Kabul. Then Khatira always stares at my mouth and talks to me like I have some sort of deadly disease.”

Zeynab laughed briefly. “What if the Abdullah family doesn’t like me?”

I ran my hand down her arm, smoothing her beautiful dress. “How could anyone not like you?”

“Farida and Tayereh —”

“Malehkah’s family doesn’t like anyone. How do you think she became so mean?”

Zeynab laughed again. It was wonderful to see her smile.

Malehkah came out of the sitting room where she had been talking with her mother and sister. “It’s time to go inside now.”

Zeynab and I stood and started for the sitting room, but Malehkah reached out her hand to stop us. “You both know that tonight’s shirnee-khoree is a celebration of Zeynab’s engagement to Tahir. More importantly, this is our chance to show her future family that she comes from the right background. Whatever you do tonight will say something about your father, so be sure that what you do says something good. Zulaikha, you will help me serve the food. You will speak only when spoken to, and then you will say as little as possible.” She turned to Zeynab. “You must not appear too sad, or else they will think you do not wish to join their family. Also, you must not seem too happy or you’ll look like you are ungrateful and hate us. There will be singing and dancing later, but neither of you will join in.” As usual, Zeynab and I just nodded and agreed with our father’s wife. “Finally …” But then we heard giggling happy voices outside and a heavy knock on the compound door. Malehkah sighed, straightened her dress, and said, “Let’s get this thing over with.”

My sister nodded and started to lick her lips before she remembered the heavy red lipstick. She breathed deep and let
it out before nodding again to Malehkah, who led us across the courtyard to the sitting room. While Zeynab settled onto the special couch Hajji Abdullah had lent us for the occasion, I went through the room and into the small walled-in hallway that shielded the rest of our compound from the eyes of guests who visited by this door.

Someone rapped on the door again and a woman’s voice called, “Salaaaaaaaaam.”

I took a moment to smooth down my hair and dress before unlocking the door and swinging it open. In rushed about a dozen chadri-covered women, all giggling and chatting at once. None of them even seemed to notice me. They went directly into the sitting room where there were more bursts of high-pitched enthusiastic greetings. I closed and bolted the street door.

“Zulaikha!” Malehkah’s voice sounded pleasant and cheerful for a change. But the familiar impatience was still there behind her words.

Inside, the women had already removed their chadris and taken their seats. Zeynab sat on her couch at one end of the narrow sitting room. Malehkah perched near the door to the front of the compound. Women of all ages sat on the floor and leaned on the cushions against the wall, forming a large circle. I sat down in the space reserved for me, near Malehkah and her mother and sister.

“So,
this
is the little angel. The one the Americans took such an interest in.” A very large woman sat at the end of the oval of women, directly across from my sister. She leaned for
ward and peered at my mouth, then ran her hand back to smooth down her long gray hair. She had to be almost as old as Meena. “There certainly is some work to do. You poor thing. Do you really think the Americans can fix it?”

I didn’t know how to respond, but remembering Malehkah’s instructions, I simply nodded and then looked at the floor. Another woman, not much younger, but quite a bit smaller, reached over to touch the big one. “My dear, I think you’re frightening the little one, examining her mouth the way you are.”

“Of course.” The woman smiled. “I’m Gulzoma, first wife to Hajji Abdullah. This is my husband’s older sister Jamila.”

“Salaam,” I said quietly.

“This is my mother Farida,” said Malehkah.

“Salaam alaikum,” Gulzoma bowed in greeting.

“Walaikum salaam,” Farida replied.

“And my sister Tayereh,” Malehkah continued the introductions.

Jamila nodded toward a woman who was clearly missing a leg and who must have walked with the crutch that she propped against the wall next to her. “This is my daughter Isma.”

Then Gulzoma shifted the mountain of her body back and pointed at all the other women, naming off Hajji Abdullah’s second and third wives as well as several daughters and nieces. She had forgotten some of the names, bringing scowls from the faces of their mothers, who then had to help her. Malehkah greeted each woman in turn. Zeynab looked
like she was trying to follow everything Gulzoma said. When I caught Zeynab’s attention, I raised my eyebrows. She turned her eyes toward one woman after another and then shrugged with the smallest hint of a smile on her lips. I covered my mouth and tried to look serious. Zeynab must have been thinking what I was thinking. There were many names to remember!

Gulzoma leaned forward. “Tahir’s wives, Leena and Belquis, send their apologies. They simply cannot make it tonight. The trip from Farah is over an hour. I’m afraid they don’t travel well, the poor things.” She shook her head.

This was unexpected. The shirnee-khoree was important enough for Malehkah’s family to travel here from Shindand, so surely the rest of Tahir’s household could have made the shorter trip to An Daral. But Gulzoma laughed. “They’re busy preparing for Zeynab’s arrival. I’ve hired servants to get my house ready for the wedding, but
everyone
is needed to get my brother-in-law’s house ready for the wedding night!”

Malehkah’s breath was warm at the back of my neck. “Come with me. We need to start bringing out the meal,” she growled quietly.

Gulzoma clapped her hands. “Yes, let’s eat. I’m hungry and I’m sure Zeynab has prepared a wonderful meal.”

“Of course,” Malehkah’s nod seemed to pump freshness back into her smile as she gently pushed me out of the sitting room.

We went across the courtyard and inside the house to get the food from where it stayed warm on the cook stove. Malehkah said nothing, but quickly handed me a large platter
on which she placed bowls and plates of food. Under my arm she crammed the dastarkhan before she nodded toward the sitting room. I hurried back, set down the platter, and unrolled the long dastarkhan in the middle of the circle of women. It was good that we had moved quickly because the conversation was slow. They seemed to be waiting for us. Malehkah brought a pitcher of water, a metal basin, and a towel that I carried around so that everyone could wash their hands. After that, we laid all the food out on the cloth — all our hard work through the long day. First the naan, then four big bowls of rice. Two roast chickens for everyone to pick pieces off. Bowls of spiced mutton in heavy red gravy, along with two large platters of roasted potatoes. I even put out a few plates of pickled cucumbers.

Finally, I could sit down. The women all ate, talked, laughed, and ate some more. Even Malehkah seemed a bit less grumpy. I was quiet, and I didn’t eat much. Gulzoma and the others were already staring at my mouth enough. I didn’t want to make it worse by letting them see the strange way that I had to eat, tilting my head back and using my fingers to help hold the food in while I chewed. Instead I took food to Zeynab, who wasn’t supposed to move around.

“How are you doing?” I whispered when I brought her some chicken and naan. Gulzoma was holding everyone’s attention with a story about one of her nieces.

Zeynab accepted the food. “I think everything is going well. The food is delicious and —”

“Zulaikha!” Malehkah called me back to her side with a little jerk of her head.

“You look wonderful,” I whispered to Zeynab. “And the party is great.” Then I went back to sit next to my father’s wife.

Gulzoma and Jamila dominated the conversation. They talked about their relatives and laughed about stories from weddings they’d been to in the past. They even had a few stories about Hajji Abdullah’s second and third wives. Several of these stories made some of the women blush and keep their eyes focused on their food.

During a rare quiet moment while Gulzoma helped herself to a choice piece of chicken, Isma spoke in a high soft voice. “Zulaikha, I hope the Americans are able to help you.”

Everyone in the room turned their attention on me. My face felt hot. I had been about to sneak a little bite of a piece of naan, but I put the food back down. “Tashakor,” I said.

“Yes,” Gulzoma pointed with a chicken leg at the woman. “Isma here no doubt wishes they could give her a new leg the way they said they could give Zulaikha a new mouth.” She chuckled. “Too bad for her!”

Everyone else sat in silence at her rudeness. It was Malehkah who finally spoke. “Not a new mouth. They simply wanted to fix the one she already has.” She smiled, but there was an unmistakable firmness behind her words to Gulzoma.

Gulzoma looked at Malehkah and picked her teeth with her fingernail. Then she went on as though Malehkah hadn’t said anything at all. “Well, let’s hope it works.” She turned to a woman sitting at the other end of the room near
Zeynab. “What was it that your spirited son used to call Zulaikha, Mariam? Donkeymouth? No. Ah! Yes, of course. Donkeyface!” She clapped her hands, as if she was pleased that she’d remembered. Then she frowned and put a finger to her lips. “What a mean little boy. You should try harder to keep him in line.”

My cheeks burned hot at the mention of that hated name. I pressed my chador tightly over my mouth. How could any guest be so cruel to her host?

Anwar’s mother, Mariam, the young third wife of Hajji Abdullah, looked down, picking at her food. Gulzoma smiled and took more chicken. “Mmm, Malehkah, this is wonderful.” She noticed me staring at her. “Zulaikha, you haven’t got a new mouth yet, dear. Now close it.”

But my mouth was closed. As much closed as it could be with my cleft lip. I wanted to throw my water in that fat old lady’s face.

“Zulaikha. Zeynab.” Malehkah leaned back and held her hands over her belly. “Will you please go inside and get the tray of sweets?”

Gulzoma sat up straight. “Does Zeynab need to go? Surely Zulaikha can —”

“I think Zeynab needs some air. The heat and all,” Malehkah said, locking eyes with Gulzoma, a cheerful smile pasted on her face.

“Oooh, this is my favorite part,” Isma said in her tiny voice. “I love the sweets. What better way to begin an engagement?” Other women quickly voiced their nervous agreement.

“Bale, Madar,” I said. I took Zeynab’s hand in mine and went to the house.

“That was terrible!” Zeynab said as soon as we were inside. I quickly put my finger to her lips and checked to make sure nobody had followed us. “Zulaikha, she’s a monster. How can I become a part of that family?”

I wished that she didn’t have to. I wished that life could stay the same as it had always been. I reached toward Zeynab and wiped the tears from her cheek. “‘Every triumph from patience springs, the happy herald of better things,’” I said.

Zeynab managed a small smile. “Madar-jan used to say that.”

“I know. And she was right. Maybe we need to get the cake, candies, and fruit and then go back in there and be like Malehkah.”

Zeynab laughed softly. “You mean really angry all the time?”

I hugged my sister. “No. Just all smiley and nice to all of them. Maybe if we can trick them into thinking we like them, then they’ll be more kind.”

“I’ll try.” Zeynab took a deep breath.

Taking the sweet things from the kitchen, we went back to the stifling hot sitting room and our rude guests.

Zeynab took her seat on the couch, and I placed the platter of sweet treats before the others, careful to set it within reach of Gulzoma. All the women looked at the assortment and smiled or made longing noises when they recognized something they liked.