The Wedding Drums

by Marilyn Rodwell

  Amina gripped her stomach. The two of them were laughing intimately. Why would he ask her to come to watch this? For reasons she couldn’t understand, she felt foolish and also wretched. She knew Sumati liked boys, but where was Farouk? She stood rooted to the ground and watched them walk together. Rajnath reached up, took his shirt off the tree and threw it over his shoulder. She watched it fall around his bronzed, muscular arms, and felt confused.

  As Sumati picked up the pile of her clothes from the grass and strolled towards the barracks, Rajnath turned and saw Amina.

  ‘Hey! I didn’t think you were coming.’

  ‘Yes, I can see that,’ Amina said. ‘I can also see you have made friends with Sumati. How do you know her?’

  ‘She’s in a lot of trouble. She needs help. I came across her last night at the cemetery, near her mother’s grave. She had nowhere to go. She hasn’t eaten today.’

  ‘So you brought her pomerac?’

  ‘I forgot to bring her food. She spent the night in our shed – but don’t tell anyone.’

  He saw that Amina still looked upset and appealed to her.

  ‘I couldn’t leave her like that. She was desperate.’

  ‘I understand that. But did you tell her that her father blames me? That she is the good girl, and I am the jagabat?’

  ‘Stop! You don’t know what you’re saying. I don’t think you even understand that word.’

  ‘Well, I’m not stupid.’ She looked Rajnath straight in the eye.

  ‘Don’t bother about Roopchand,’ Rajnath said. ‘The man is out of his mind with misery.’

  Sumati eventually emerged from the barracks, dried and dressed, but without her usual bouncy gait. Something had changed. Sumati was definitely a woman, and Amina felt a child in comparison.

  ‘It’s so nice to see you,’ Sumati said, smiling.

  ‘Nothing’s changed, then.’ Amina stared at her.

  Sumati’s smile disappeared. Her eyes filled. ‘Nothing will ever be the same again,’ she said. Her voice saddened. ‘You’re right. I’ve spoilt everything – for myself, and for everyone else. I’m a bad person. You don’t want anything to do with me. Nobody should.’ She turned to walk back towards the barracks.

  ‘Go after her,’ Rajnath said. ‘Talk to her. She is your friend, and she needs you. You! Go on.’

  Amina followed Sumati and caught up with her.

  ‘I’ll walk home with you,’ she said.

  Sumati sighed. ‘There is no place to call home anymore. Home is where my mother is.’

  ‘Your mother wouldn’t want you to just wander around outside. I know that.’

  ‘Then why did she do what she did?’ Sumati cried out.

  ‘Who knows? She couldn’t take the strain.’

  ‘My fault then.’ Sumati looked to the ground, grinding the earth under her heel.

  ‘I don’t know where you have been or what happened to you. But not going back home will not help you, or your father, or your brother. Especially you.’

  ‘You don’t have any idea what it is like out there in the world.’

  ‘That is true. I don’t. But I do know that you should go in and make it up with your father. Think about Kesh. He needs you. You all need each other.’

  ‘My father might just kill me,’ Sumati said tiredly. ‘But I deserve it.’

  ‘Do you want me to come in with you?’ Amina offered. ‘Your father doesn’t like me but I don’t care. Or you could come home with me instead. Till you’re ready to go back.’

  ‘No, you’re right. I should go home.’

  Without another word, Sumati turned and strode in the direction of home. Amina followed, and watched her disappear down the path at the side of her house. She waited, listening for any disturbing noises, before leaving. Twilight was falling, and she could see Rajnath’s silhouette in the distance. Her pulse began to race, and by the time she got home her head was in turmoil. He had explained himself but it wasn’t enough. And Sumati had said nothing about where she had been or how she’d become so thin. But why was Rajnath so bothered about Sumati’s welfare? And why was she, Amina, bothered that he was?

  TWENTY-THREE

  It was Saturday morning, and Devinia came into Amina’s bedroom and flung open the windows, letting in the sun.

  ‘It’s late,’ she said. ‘Breakfast is ready. And there’s a pot of hot water for you to bathe.’

  Etwar’s voice came sailing fast through her doorway. ‘Why didn’t I get warm water?’

  ‘Don’t be a girl!’ Sankar shouted from the bedroom. ‘A good cold bath is what you need first thing in the morning. It’ll make a man of you! Listen, I need a strong boy with me today. We are going to help your mother fetch a heifer from Bonasse.’

  ‘Who’s going to look after another cow?’ Etwar asked, looking worried.

  Amina burst out in fits of laughter. ‘You, that’s who.’

  ‘No!’ Etwar said. ‘It’s not fair!’

  ‘Dharma, boy! That’s your job,’ Sankar grinned. ‘Didn’t I tell you?’

  Amina was sitting in the hammock eating her breakfast when Sumati appeared, carrying a big brown-paper bag. Her cheeks were drawn and her eyes sunken. Devinia looked as if she had seen a ghost.

  ‘I can’t stay there,’ Sumati blurted out.

  ‘So it’s true,’ Devinia said. ‘You have come back – to be the woman of the house.’

  Amina looked at her mother, alarmed.

  ‘But I don’t want to,’ Sumati pleaded. ‘My mother made it bearable to be there. I can’t be in the same house with my father. You don’t know him.’

  ‘Give him time,’ Devinia counselled. ‘He has a lot of worries, but you are his daughter.’ Devinia’s eyes glistened. ‘He will change. You’re no longer a child and you already left home, so you’ll be able to manage the house till you’re married. At least do it till then.’

  ‘You’re still getting married?’ Amina gasped.

  Sumati rolled her eyes and twisted her mouth.

  ‘Ma,’ Amina said. ‘This has nothing to do with us.’

  ‘I’m only giving my advice,’ Devinia defended herself. ‘Judging by how her life’s going so far, not in school and not working, what’s her choice?’

  ‘Her mother’s just died.’

  ‘That’s why she must think straight. Daya cannot think for her now. Go! Take her upstairs. She could stay one night, that’s all.’

  ‘Thanks, Tantie,’ Sumati answered sheepishly, but relieved.

  That night in bed, Amina did most of the talking. Sumati seemed to have little to say. The wind outside rustled the leaves, and a bird tweeted unexpectedly. Devinia shouted for them to blow out the candle. They did, but continued whispering.

  ‘Amina,’ Sumati said all of a sudden. ‘I’m so worried. I think something’s happened.’

  The next morning, the girls were downstairs eating their breakfast, sitting in the hammock shoulder to shoulder, rocking gently, when Sumati suddenly stalled the rocking with her heel.

  ‘Don’t tell anybody what I told you last night.’

  ‘Then don’t talk so loud,’ Amina said. ‘Look, I’ve no idea what you could do, but I’ll think about who to ask.’

  ‘What y’all whispering ’bout?’ Etwar said, appearing out of nowhere. ‘Boys!’

  ‘Boys?’ Sumati snorted. ‘That’s the last thing on my mind.’

  ‘You might think boys are important,’ Amina added, ‘but they’re just the nastiest, wormiest creatures we could think of right now.’

  ‘Alright,’ Etwar said, twisting his face. ‘But your brother’s up the top of the road, looking at you.’

  They all glanced towards the road. Etwar was right. Kesh was indeed there.

  ‘Duck!’ Amina said. ‘Kesh must be looking for you, or me.’

  But Kesh turned away and continued walking. Amina was now trembling with worry. She was out of her depth, even though Sumati seemed to expect her to come up with some wise plan. As they walked back towards Sumati�
�s house, she did her best.

  ‘If it was me, I would see the doctor when he comes to Granville next.’

  ‘Sometimes you know nothing.’ Sumati sounded exasperated.

  ‘At least I know when I know nothing – like you right now. Which is why I am suggesting you see the doctor.’

  ‘You know, there was a time when there were no doctors. But there was always somebody in the village who knew what to do.’

  ‘But you wouldn’t contemplate that!’ Amina was indignant. ‘You want to go to some Obeah woman?’

  ‘Not exactly.’

  ‘Then talk to somebody,’ Amina implored. ‘Somebody who you trust. Older. And just because you didn’t have your bleeding doesn’t mean what you’re thinking. Sometimes that could just happen. I read in a book once, that it could be because of starvation or some kind of bad illness. And you have become very thin. Weren’t you eating?’

  ‘A book?’ Sumati repeated. ‘Starvation? What kind of book have you been reading?’

  ‘A proper book I got from Mr Clifford’s cupboard. I think you’ll be all right.’

  ‘You think so?’ Sumati said nastily. ‘Well, you’re the one with the brains.’

  ‘Just keep your head down. Do what you have to do to stop your father and brother from making your life miserable. Soon you’ll have a life of your own.’

  ‘My life will never be my own, Amina. I can’t believe you’re saying that I should marry that old man.’

  ‘There might have been a better way if you hadn’t run away in the first place. I hope you realise that, so please don’t do that again. You would have had more choices. Like staying on at school, or showing your parents that Farouk was as good a match as any. Especially when he got a job. They might have seen you would be happy. Instead you ran away with him, and he had no job.’

  ‘And that is why my mother killed herself. I know.’

  Amina didn’t reply. Sumati could be right, especially that she had left with a Muslim boy.

  When they reached Sumati’s house, Amina ran to peer down the side to see if Roopchand was there. He wasn’t, so Amina left. But as she walked back up the road, she spotted Rajnath heading straight towards her.

  ‘Where have you been?’ he asked, looking alarmed.

  ‘Just down to the spring.’

  ‘You have to be careful,’ he warned. ‘You shouldn’t go there on your own.’

  A mosquito bit her hard on her arm, and Amina realised that she had just done something she abhorred. She had just told a lie.

  Sumati was bathing in the spring one afternoon when she heard someone whistling. Seeing no one, she hid behind the big rock to watch and listen as she could hear the whistler approaching. She almost jumped out of her skin to see Rajnath, swinging a cricket bat, spinning it around his fingers and circling his shoulders. As he looked towards the middle of the spring, Sumati dropped herself into the water up to her neck, and stared at him.

  ‘How’s it going with your father?’ he shouted. He sat himself down cross-legged on a rock at the edge of the water, oblivious to the fact that she was bathing.

  ‘Have you heard from Farouk?’ he asked.

  ‘I could ask you the same,’ she called back. ‘He’s your friend.’

  ‘But you persuaded him to run away. I know he was worried about leaving.’

  Sumati squeezed her nose and ducked her head completely under the water, drowning out anything he was saying. Rajnath stood up fast. Girls couldn’t swim. Thinking he’d upset her, he ripped his shirt off and jumped into the water. But she rose up as fast as she had gone down. When he surfaced, all he could do was stare as the water dripped off her curves.

  ‘Why have you come here pretending to be interested in Farouk?’ she said. ‘If you were his friend, you’d know where he is.’

  ‘If something has happened to him, I want to know.’

  ‘Both you and me then,’ she said.

  ‘I have a right to know.’

  ‘What right? What will people think if they see you in here with me? Get out of the water.’

  ‘Let people think what they want,’ he said, stepping up to the bank.

  ‘It’s lies and gossip that put my mother in her grave.’

  ‘People see what you are showing them,’ he said. ‘You ran away with Farouk. You gave them something to gossip about. And then you came home without Farouk, with no explanation.’

  ‘You want an explanation? Me too! He left me. He abandoned me without explanation.’

  ‘Here – dry yourself and walk with me,’ Rajnath said, holding her towel up. ‘We need to do some serious talking.’

  Sumati took the towel and stormed off towards the empty wooden barracks, where she would change into dry clothes.

  Rajnath sat down on the bank, picking up pebbles and throwing them into the water, muttering to himself, ‘The Farouk I knew would never have gone off and left you. He’s not that kind.’

  When Sumati reappeared, her damp clothes clinging to her hips, he had to force himself not to stare.

  ‘Walk this way with me,’ he said sternly. ‘We’ll take the bush path and you can tell me what happened to my friend.’

  ‘So you don’t care if somebody sees us then?’ she said. ‘Not even Amina?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  She didn’t reply. They walked through the bushes in silence. The grass underfoot rustled; the birds twittered, hopping from tree to tree, ravenous for ripe fruit; a dry coconut dropped, bouncing like a ball; overripe mangoes fell as a sudden hard wind shook them off their stalks. The air felt chilly.

  ‘What kind of a person are you?’ Rajnath cried, breaking the silence. ‘Maybe I should give up trying to help you. What are you thinking? Do you in fact think at all? All I did was tried to help the two of you. I thought you were in love. I thought you had the real thing. If I didn’t help, you would have had nowhere to stay. Did you really think you could run away to nowhere? For how long?’

  But Sumati refused to listen; it was too painful to hear him say the words that made so much sense. Too painful and too late.

  She took off and ran, and this time, Rajnath did nothing to stop her.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Roopchand tried to ignore his daughter’s presence in the house. She was a constant irritant, but at the same time she reminded him of her mother and he felt relieved to have her there. At times he wanted to tear every hair from her head, but at others, he wanted to hug her tight till he almost smothered her. But hugging was not his thing.

  The girl was being helpful, doing things that Daya used to do, which in a way eased his burden. But her natural buoyancy got on his nerves. It wasn’t always like that though, and he knew that her heart was heavy. She took to meeting Amina in private to talk, away from either of their houses. Roopchand knew this. He worried because her mother had taken her life, and he didn’t want her to go the same way. So he let her go.

  One evening, after she met with Amina, her mood seemed lighter.

  ‘I’ve been to the doctor,’ Sumati told her friend. ‘I was right. I’m having a baby, but . . . I don’t know who the father is.’

  ‘What? How many fathers could it have?’

  Sumati sighed. ‘You don’t know anything, do you?’

  ‘You always try to make me feel bad for not knowing what you know. What is it I’m supposed to know this time? I know how people get a baby in their stomach, Sumati – that’s not hard to find out. But you went with Farouk. So, you and Farouk did it – right? And now you’re saying . . .’

  ‘It’s not him,’ Sumati interrupted. And seeing her friend’s incomprehension, she shrugged and muttered, ‘San Fernando is not a good place.’

  ‘What do you mean? What does that have to do with it? And that cannot be true about the whole of San Fernando. My mother goes there to buy all sorts of things from India – saris, champals, and so on. She would never go to a place that was bad.’

  ‘I’m telling you – there are some places that you wouldn’t
want to go. Really, really bad, girl. Look, I want you to come with me to find wild yam.’

  ‘You cannot eat that. It’s bitter.’ Amina looked at her friend curiously. ‘I’ve heard it’s poisonous.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘You’re not going to kill yourself, are you? I can’t believe you can even think about doing that!’

  ‘After my mother hanged herself, is that it?’

  ‘Should I tell you a lie, Sumati? What happened to us being friends? Sisters.’

  ‘That stopped when I left Granville.’

  ‘Not for me. I was annoyed, but I hoped you were happy. You said you were in love. It looks like something happened to you and you don’t trust me enough to tell me. Where is Farouk?’

  ‘He caused all of this. I don’t want to speak about him, and if you and me are still friends, like you say, you must help me get rid of this thing in my belly. Find some wild yam.’

  ‘I am going to help you as much as I can,’ Amina told her, ‘but I am not going to help you kill a baby inside you, and yourself. That is murder, and I can’t let you do it. Thou shalt not kill. Promise me you will stop thinking about it. We will find a way. Really, we will.’ She embraced her friend tightly, wondering which one of Mr Clifford’s books would have the answers.

  That Sunday morning, Devinia woke up Amina earlier than usual. She instructed her to bathe scrupulously clean from head to toe with the warm water she had left in the bathroom, and to dress with care in the outfit she would lay out on her bed. Devinia had been shopping in San Fernando and had bought her a number of pretty and expensive items imported from India.

  ‘Where are we going, Ma?’ the girl asked. ‘Why have I got to wear . . . that? Is there a wedding today? I can’t hear any drums.’

  ‘Hurry up,’ was all Devinia said. ‘We are expecting visitors later.’