We Have Buried the Past

by Abdelkrim Ghallab

  ‘How happy I am for my little lady!’ she said with a delighted laugh. ‘Now the husband has started looking down from his window!’

  Aisha looked up to make sure she had heard correctly and discovered that Yasmine’s face let on even more than her words. The whirlwind started up again. ‘Husband’, that person whose gaze you were not supposed to return. Why was Yasmine, the one who had always given her warnings, now behaving like this? Behind every man there’s a scandal, she had said. But now she was saying how happy she was that a man would be able to look down on Aisha from above.

  Aisha was anxious to learn more, so her instincts led her to push back. ‘You’re the one with the man,’ she said. ‘I don’t need one.’

  Yasmine wanted to respond to Aisha’s resistance without slaking her thirst by providing too much detail. ‘Fairly soon you’ll see,’ she replied with a smile. ‘He’s going to snatch you away from us. What luck for me! I’ll be able to visit our bride in her boudoir.’

  Aisha did not react, not even to blush in embarrassment. Yasmine was just a servant after all and, even for Aisha, her status was not that of a lady who could make young girls feel embarrassed.

  However, Yasmine did not provide any further details, and Aisha was anxious for a clear explanation of the contradiction between the ideas that Yasmine had emphasised so insistently when giving her warnings about men and the happiness now evident in her expression as she proclaimed glad tidings. But she found no clarification in Yasmine’s eyes, nor any information about this person who was making the whirlwind spin even faster.

  She went to spend some time alone with Saadiyya, Abd al-Ghani’s wife, something she always liked to do. The impenetrable curtain that separated Saadiyya from Khaduj and the other ladies and servants of the household did not work on Aisha. They belonged to the same generation and had the same feelings. Even so, Aisha had begun to feel that they were growing apart as Saadiyya’s married life continued. The happy smile that had shown on her olive-skinned face every morning had started to disappear; the care she took of her physical appearance, making her a beautiful bride refreshed as the days rolled by, had now been replaced by a certain indolence and neglect; and the youthful spirit that had always been part of her expression had vanished since she had given birth to her son, al-Tayyib.

  But Aisha still found Saadiyya to be a girl with whom she could find some stability whenever the whirlwind spun out of control. As they talked about nothing in particular, they sat on either side of the sewing machine. Aisha really wanted Saadiyya to tell her the secret, which was public knowledge throughout the household but about which she knew only that it concerned a husband who had started looking out of a window. But Saadiyya only smiled, burying her head in the sewing while she counted threads, almost as though she did not care about what was bothering Aisha.

  By now Aisha was fed up with this conspiracy of silence. ‘You’re thinking about something, aren’t you?’ she asked. ‘Why are you staring at me with that mysterious smile?’

  ‘I’m thinking about the same thing as you. Tell me, are you happy to be engaged?’

  Aisha pretended to be surprised, but her rapid response cancelled it out. ‘I don’t know anything yet about an engagement. Do you know anything about it?’

  Saadiyya smiled again and gave a quizzical look. ‘You know full well, you little devil!’ she said, tickling Aisha’s chin. ‘But you’re hiding it.’

  ‘I don’t want a husband, or a fiancé, or any man,’ Aisha replied. ‘I’m perfectly happy as I am.’

  The whirlwind started again, a voice within it shouting, ‘If a man’s eyes cross your path, make sure to avoid looking at him… If you see a man, you should realise there’s always something scandalous about him.’ The smile left Aisha’s eyes, and she started swimming in a world far removed from that of her companion.

  Saadiyya looked at her sympathetically and thought, ‘Maybe Hajj Abd al-Qadir’s family doesn’t satisfy her… Perhaps she knows something about her fiancé that makes her feel she won’t be happy with him.’

  She made an effort to bring Aisha back to reality. ‘We all used to say things like that,’ she said. ‘But marriage is a house that all girls enter. You’ll see that it’s a warmer and nicer situation than the lonely world you’re living in at the moment.’

  Aisha was not convinced. She objected, as though asking Saadiyya to clarify things that Yasmine had not been able to. ‘But men… are tricky,’ she said. ‘There’s something scandalous behind every one of them.’ Her eyes filled with tears. If Saadiyya had not stretched out her hand, grabbed her by the chin, and raised her head, she would have burst into sobs.

  ‘Don’t be a child, Aisha,’ she said. ‘You’re a girl who’s about to achieve your proper station in life and embark on your future. Men are like women: some of them are tricky and cruel, others are nice and kind. Your father would never choose a husband for you who is unsuitable.’

  This made her feel a little better, but the whirlwind did not stop.

  As soon as she learned that the Hajj Abd al-Qadir family was about to visit their house, she disappeared from view. Marriage arrangers were always fully aware of this particular game, having all gone through the same phase themselves. They would usually manage to discover the girl, who was actually keen on being near them – but not too near. However, in this case they could not find Aisha in the nooks and crannies of the big mansion, in spite of the mighty efforts that Khaduj put into locating the missing girl. The visit came to an end without the visitors getting to meet the girl Hajj Abd al-Qadir had requested from Hajj Muhammad as a fiancée for his son.

  Abd al-Rahman was one of the first to learn about the engagement that the two families were proposing between a young man and a girl who knew nothing about each other. He wished he could ask the young man whether he knew anything at all about the girl that they had convinced him was the best possible wife for him and mother of his children. He also wished he could ask the boy’s father whether he had initiated the process deliberately and on the basis of previous knowledge of the families involved. He admitted he would not be able to ask such questions – but why should he not talk to his own sister, who was so close to him?

  Aisha was self-conscious as she resorted to Abd al-Rahman for advice; she wanted him to help her resolve the contradictions that Yasmine had created. So far neither Yasmine, nor her mother, nor Saadiyya had shown her a way out of her dilemma. She found herself confronting a wall of modesty that kept her and her brother apart, yet at the same time she felt her brother was giving her enquiring looks – but about what? She did not have to wait very long to find out.

  ‘Listen, Aisha,’ he told her, much to her surprise, ‘do you realise they’re going to marry you off ?’

  The shock of it tied her tongue, and she had nothing to say.

  ‘Why don’t you say anything?’ he asked. ‘The whole thing concerns you more than anyone else. I realise you don’t know a thing about the man whose father has come to ask for your hand. Are you willing to marry a man you don’t even know?’

  The word ‘man’ rang in her ears as it had when Yasmine had first spoken it. She was anxious to flee from the mention of it, and wanted to resort to her brother as protection against the danger that the idea of this ‘man’, this ‘fiancé’, posed for her. She really wanted to burst into tears, but instead she simply stood in front of him with tears welling up, fighting off the whirlwind and giving her brother a pleading look.

  He could read the pleas in her eyes. ‘I’m going to check on this man for myself,’ he told her. ‘If he doesn’t satisfy both you and me, then he won’t be a suitable husband for you.’

  His words provided Aisha with the peace of mind she had been craving as a means of rescue from the wilderness.

  She gathered all her senses together as she watched the vigorous discussion between Abd al-Rahman and his father. It may have all been conducted in whispers, but it was also clearly angry, involving gestures and stubborn expressions. Not a w
ord was audible, as if they were arguing about something secret.

  Khaduj was present for part of the argument, sitting beside her husband. ‘The man’s wealthy and from a rich family,’ she told herself as she left the room. ‘Isn’t he educated, and hasn’t he attended the mosque school?’ She had the impression that Aisha could hear what she was thinking, so she stifled her thoughts. Even so, she went on walking to and fro, obviously upset; it was as though the whirlwind had engulfed her too.

  For a few days, life continued on its usual course, and Aisha heard nothing more about the engagement. She was distinctly unsettled by the apparent calm that prevailed once the furious argument she had witnessed was over; it was almost as though she had been watching a theatrical performance from behind a pane of glass.

  It was Abd al-Rahman who eventually broke the mood. ‘Good news, Aisha!’ he said, much to her surprise. ‘I’ve convinced my father.’

  ‘You’ve convinced him about what?’ she asked anxiously.

  ‘To turn down your engagement to Muhammad, Hajj Abd al-Qadir’s son.’

  He did not expect her to reply. The lovely, grateful smile visible in her eyes spoke clearly enough.

  32

  Hajj Muhammad was not entirely happy about turning down Aisha’s engagement to Hajj Abd al-Qadir’s son, but neither was he too upset. He had no knowledge of the son, Muhammad, who was supposed to marry Aisha. Since he was acquainted with the boy’s father and would have been content to have him as an in-law, he had not even given any thought to whether he knew the boy. Likewise, Hajj Abd al-Qadir did not know Aisha, the girl he wanted to be married to his son. He too had given no thought to whether he knew her or anything about her, since he was acquainted with her father and would have been content to have him as an in-law. Hajj Muhammad’s motivation for approving the marriage was thus not inspired by any particular desire on his part or by some unassailable logic, but rather by Hajj Abd al-Qadir’s wealth. Such wealth was not the exclusive preserve of Hajj Abd al-Qadir, though; Fez had many such people.

  However, Khaduj could not tolerate the blow. She had looked forward to celebrating Aisha’s wedding and could not even conceive of turning down a rich Fez family who had come to ask for her daughter’s hand. She regarded the rejection as a bad omen for her daughter. Chance never likes to be frustrated, otherwise it can go on forever.

  She felt pessimistic. She worried that all the families in Fez who might be inclined to link themselves to her family through marriage would now know about this particular affair – the rejection of a marriage proposal without good reason. They could all talk about how beautiful Aisha was and how unsullied her reputation, but what if she reached the age of eighteen without another family of the same calibre coming to ask for her hand? Her life would be ruined.

  No such worries were going through Aisha’s mind; she was simply delighted by the removal of the shadow that had been causing her so much distress. It was not Muhammad, Hajj Abd al-Qadir’s son, in particular who was that shadow, but rather any Muhammad, any prospective husband. She could only look into the future through Saadiyya’s eyes.

  ‘Poor Saadiyya!’ she thought to herself. ‘Happy in her own universe… She’s achieved her own identity and dreams, tranquil dreams undisturbed by a man, a husband, glances that might cause scandal, dreams unflustered by knowledge.’

  Even so, Aisha could not avoid listening to the siren call that came to her every time she was on her own. It would hail her from afar and grow in volume as it drew closer and closer, until the point came when it overwhelmed her senses and shattered her nerves. The spell of it would take over her entire self, presenting her with a picture of a wonderful life as open as a spring rose in bloom. But then it would shout again, pulsing and throbbing through her veins, raging, shaking all her senses, and robbing her of sleep.

  As she lay awake in the black robe of all-enveloping darkness, she thought about men and husbands. ‘I was stupid to object and refuse to get married,’ she told herself. ‘Will I ever get another chance?’ she asked herself in despair.

  There was no immediate response to that question, but every time Aisha found herself shrouded in darkness, the issue hounded her. That siren call in all its magic and softness kept haunting her, pulsing noisily through her veins.

  And the whispering started again, all eyes staring silently in her direction. No one dared spread the rumours or talk openly. This time, Yasmine did not dare share what she knew with Aisha. She could still feel the pain that had wracked her conscience whenever she recalled how she had let Aisha know about the event that she had assumed would be a happy one. She had managed to arouse Aisha’s dearest hopes. But then the whole thing had gone up in smoke. No doubt it had left a residue of pain in Aisha’s heart. Yasmine felt a sense of responsibility for it all.

  There was still one person who did not resort to whispering. He felt obliged to make the person most concerned by it aware of what was happening, so that she could be the one to make her own decision about her future. Abd al-Rahman confronted Hajj Muhammad on the subject.

  ‘Before you consult anyone else,’ he told his father, ‘you must find out what Aisha thinks.’

  Hajj Muhammad was astonished. He had never imagined that any discussion of the subject with Abd al-Rahman would involve finding out what Aisha wanted. He had been the one to decide that Abd al-Ghani would be married; he had chosen the family and bridegroom himself without Abd al-Ghani, his mother, or the bride knowing anything about it. No one in the family had objected, or asked to be consulted. But this time he had agreed to ask Abd al-Rahman’s opinion, and now his son was forcing him to make yet another concession, asking Aisha what she felt about the matter. So, was Aisha now going to decide her own future? Was she going to choose the husband she wanted?

  A wave of pain, despair, and humiliation came over him as he turned things over in his mind before responding to Abd al-Rahman. He could not bring himself to speak, but simply stared wide-eyed at his son and frowned; the pain he felt robbed him of all grace and dignity. As he stared at Abd al-Rahman, his expression was a mix of anger, despair, bewilderment, and resignation. He stood up, unable to bear talking any more with his son, whose rebellion had now reached the stage of demanding that his father renounce the status he had proudly maintained all his life.

  Abd al-Rahman sensed that he had won, and allowed himself a cryptic smile as he walked out behind his father – a figure with bowed head and bent back.

  ‘Come here, Aisha! Have you heard the news?’ he said.

  When Aisha looked up in response to her brother’s call, her expression was more open and confident than before. She made no attempt to hide anything or put on a display of fake surprise. ‘I’ve been hearing whispers,’ she told him, ‘but nothing’s clear and no one’s told me anything.’

  ‘A young man named Ahmad from a middle-class family has asked for your hand. He’s a teacher at a primary school.’ At this point Abd al-Rahman paused to assess his sister’s reaction, as though interpreting impressions other than those caused by the mere shock.

  When Aisha heard the news, the confidence she had been feeling totally deserted her. All she took from Abd al-Rahman’s statement was the surface of the words. She did not take in ‘young man’, ‘Ahmad’, ‘a teacher who’s asked for your hand in marriage’; instead, it was ‘a man’, ‘a husband’ – someone with whom you did not exchange glances and behind whom there had to be some scandal.

  She looked unhappy, but this time she did not blush in embarrassment. Instead, she turned as pale as death, and her eyes looked down as though searching for something on the ground. It seemed she could not face the reality of what Abd al-Rahman had told her. Her lips quivered, as though searching involuntarily for words to reflect the distress she was feeling. ‘This time they’re going to marry me off, whether I want it or not,’ her thoughts kept telling her. ‘They’ll thrust me at a man… It’s so difficult! If only, if only Yasmine would explain to me precisely what the scandal actually is. I don
’t want it, I don’t want it!’

  Abd al-Rahman was aware that the news was upsetting Aisha. He was anxious to give her the opportunity to be on her own and think about things without him there to influence her. As he was about to leave, the situation felt as though a gust of wind were blowing on someone struggling for breath.

  ‘Think about it, Aisha,’ he told his sister. ‘Now you have the chance to think seriously about things and make a conscious decision about your own future.’ He did not wait for a response, but as he left the room he asked himself, ‘Why did she blanch when I told her someone had asked for her hand?’

  It turned out that Aisha did not raise any objections, and Abd al-Rahman convinced her that Ahmad was a nice young man. He himself would have no objections to her marrying him.

  Hajj Muhammad was not entirely happy when Khaduj told him that Aisha had accepted the proposal. He had always had the feeling that Aisha, as the youngest of his children after Abd al-Latif, had inherited his own ideas and decisions. Even so, he was still delighted that her response was positive: he could not bear to think of yet another proposal being rejected because Aisha had refused.

  Hajj Muhammad put on a huge celebration for his daughter’s wedding, the very best possible. He was anxious to show the family of Hajj Abd al-Qadir every detail concerning the parties, the trousseau, and the gifts that accompanied Aisha as she moved to her husband’s house. He was equally keen for the streets of Fez to be witnesses throughout the seven days of celebration to the gifts and spreads of food amid all the ululations of bridesmaids and the traditional chants. But beyond that, and above all, he was anxious to hear the news that was on the minds of the bride’s mother and father, as Aisha was to become the lady of a household where her husband would be expected to acknowledge his new wife’s purity, chastity, and virtue.