In 1989, Shayeena’s oldest three brothers were born—triplets. Early, during 1990, her father had struggled diligently to balance his time between his family, his work, and his dealings within the village and the district and provincial cities. He also worked hard to combat an issue of harvested crop spoilage by bringing as much wheat as his camel and cart could pull to the various markets throughout the land to sell it all before it spoiled to increase the wealth of the family. For many years he had gone into the larger provincial city, Shahrak, and once he had gathered up a large enough portion of his family’s inheritance money he returned to the city to invest in his family’s future. While there, her father purchased three hundred fifty-five-gallon plastic and sealable drums, along with a dry ice sealing system. He shrewdly stacked them behind three rented camels pulling carts and brought them to the farm to store the milled and whole wheat throughout the year following the harvest. He did this to protect his family’s main source of income from moisture, contaminants, and bugs, which allowed him to disperse the selling of his harvested crop in smaller quantities throughout the year and spend more time with his family rather than having to sell it all in a short period of time each year to avoid risking the loss of too much of it. Instead, he would be able to sell his entire crop rather than barely enough crops before it spoiled. Now, he could work with his wife and sons to mill the wheat, bake the loaves of bread and batches of crackers, and take them to the village market on a daily basis. Doing this, he was able to accumulate more than enough money to make improvements to his home and his farm.
Early on, in his boys’ lives and as they began to grow, they watched him till the farm, dry the wheat, mill it, pack it into the fifty-five-gallon barrels for long-term storage, and when they grew old enough, he trained them how to do what he did. Eventually, when her brothers were merely nine years old, they pretty much took over the operations of the farm, while their father would go into Firozkah, the district city, and Shahrak, the provincial city regularly to sell the goods throughout the year. Her mother would sell the milled flour and wheat germ, and whole wheat as well as some of her baked goods in the nearby village market each day, with the exception of days of religious observance.
Her father’s investment had paid off since at that time he and his three sons would work to do each task necessary from planting and irrigation to harvest and selling the product. This led to Shayeena’s father creating a wealthy estate, and a more expanded and enjoyable home.
He had always sensed that at some point he would have a daughter or maybe two, so he did as much as he could to prepare for that inevitability. He had built expansions to their family home in such a way that the bedroom wing was located furthest from the village, with the master bedroom at the center of the bedroom portion of the home. The boy’s rooms along with a couple of extra rooms lay to the south of the master bedroom, and a couple of rooms for the girls lay to the north of the master bedroom, in the event that he and his wife had daughters. Each room had its own bathroom and he created a basement and escape tunnel to the Hari River with survival and defensive abilities for the boys. He would do this work while his boys were out on the farm. Once his work was complete, he showed his boys, and that became their secret hideout from the rest of the village, should the worst ever occur.
He also did the same for the daughters he might have someday but kept his efforts toward that end from his boys and privately shared this with his wife. After building the secret basement for his potential daughters, he built a secret tunnel heading eastward toward the eastern boundary of their property. There were several other exits and entrances along the way with openings here and there hidden and surrounded by rock formations all within groves of trees, to help with precipitation and privacy. The final exit was located not too far from the forgotten village of Jam, the Minaret of Jam, and the Jam River. If any of his daughters happened to sojourn through the tunnels, her brothers, who were susceptible to the oppressive ways of the Imam, would never be the wiser, despite tilling the land, since above the tunnels were clear farm-ways linking the entire farm, filled with hills, divots, irrigation, and small groves of trees for privacy. Even along the borders, he had grown a large area of forestation around the entire perimeter just outside a high and strong stone wall with effective sharp-edged deterrents to further help with precipitation and irrigation and provide even more privacy and security for the family farm and estate.
His children, if ever caught in a jam, would be able to escape, survive, and live comfortably underground and away from it all, without any harm until things blew over. They would even be able to escape from a hidden doorway at the end if needed. He and his wife would stay behind and if asked would advise the interrogators that he had no idea where his children were, save for tilling the land, reviewing how the crop was doing, etc.
As his three boys turned fifteen, they began to spend more time in the district city of Firozkah, where they had a humble university for men, and their father toiled endlessly on every aspect of the farm. At that time, he had purchased several different types of tractors and automatic irrigation systems to decrease the amount of time he needed to spend on the farm. Eventually, he and his wife brought into the world an adorable daughter. When he saw her beautiful hazel and green-golden eyes, her charming features, her smile, he instantly fell in love with her and an intense desire to protect her from any dangers that would ever come her way. On the day she was born, he looked to her mother, and together they named her Shayeena.
As Shayeena grew up, they taught her the basics of life, the need for love, the virtues in kindness, and the need to understand the religion of the village so that they would all be safe from ire, anger, punishment, and misunderstandings. Shayeena’s parents were very careful to teach her the things that would not get her into trouble, while she was young so that if she were to speak up while she happened to be in the village she would not be unduly punished. However, once she was eight-years-old, her mother and father began to notice a unique mental maturity about her, and they began to teach her the things that they knew she would strategically keep to herself, so as to avoid reprimand—which would be harsh, especially from the village leader, the Imam, and those raised within the village’s borders who were also influenced by oppressive and subversive leadership and ways of living. They very rarely intruded on the private lives of the farmers, since they provided the food.
On Shayeena’s eighth birthday she met her friend, Tayi. Tayi had been visiting with her parents and Shayeena had learned that Tayi’s family owned the chicken farm to the west of theirs. Tayi’s family raised hens and roosters for eggs and poultry products. Her parents were much like her own—they were kind, cautious, and smart, yet humble. When in town, they never appeared as if they were wealthy because they did not want to attract the wrong kind of attention. However, as the years went by, Tayi seemed to mature into womanhood much faster than Shayeena. While they didn’t seem to notice much, the men began to notice Tayi greatly. For five years they had spent time together on their farms, walking together exploring nature and going back and forth on the country roads, in the village, looking up at the nighttime skies, and spending time with each other in each other’s homes. They had shared stories back and forth and even played dress-up of the characters in Sinbad’s Seven Voyages and other children’s stories that were approved by the village Imam.
One day, which had been a wonderful one, after Tayi had spent many glorious moments with Shayeena, they walked to Shayeena’s farm entrance and bid each other goodbye. Not too long afterward, Tayi realized she had to return to town because she had forgotten something amidst all of the fun. Little did she know that the Imam’s eldest son had been following her for the last few months, but with lust in his mind and with a seemingly insatiable appetite, and tonight he had followed her as well. Tayi, who had turned thirteen several months before, had returned to town because she had forgotten a bag of groceries while sitting on a bench talking and kidding around with Shayeena. He
had waited until she was alone, and then when the moment was right, he trapped her, bound her, raped her, hurt her and took advantage of her in every way possible, leaving her bruised underneath her clothes, and traumatized and terrified. After doing so, he loosened her, told her to leave, and to never mention a word to anyone, “or else.”
When he returned home, he confided everything to his father but told him that she had provoked him, because she was so pretty and seductive. The Imam told his son, “She should be stoned; abominations like that should not be allowed to exist—for they turn the hearts of men to dark and devious ways.”
The following day, when Tayi and Shayeena were walking to the village, Shayeena noticed that Tayi was silent and obviously traumatized. She seemed, for all intents and purposes, shut out of the world.
“What happened, Tayi?” asked Shayeena. But Tayi looked down, almost shivering, and remained silent.
Finally, after finding a quiet and secure place, they sat down on a stone within a grouping of trees, just far enough from the side of the pathway on their way to the village, to allow Tayi a sense of protection from unwanted ears. Tayi then explained to Shayeena everything that had occurred, amidst tears of fear and sorrow. This young girl had no idea that she had been the victim of rape, of assault, and of torture, and that none of what had transpired was her fault, yet she felt the blame anyway.
“Tayi, none of this was your fault. I’m so sorry that we got distracted and forgot your bag of groceries; I wish you would have let me know you needed to go back to town. You should not have had to endure any inconvenience other than a little extra walking to and from the bench we had sat on. This should never have happened. I wish I would have walked back with you.”
“He probably would have hurt you too,” said Tayi amidst choked up tears. “Thank you, Shayeena.”
“Why would he do something like that? Doesn’t he know better? I mean, we’re just girls, and he? He’s a man. He should have a little more self-control! Oh, I am so sorry, Tayi.” Shayeena gave her a hug to comfort her. “I will stay with you in the village from now on, no matter what, so nothing like this can happen again.”
As they walked into the village, the girls saw a crowd of young men and adults gathered around the entrance, all staring Tayi’s direction.
Shayeena and Tayi glanced at each other. They were not sure what to do.
As they began to pass through the center of the crowd, they saw a coldness, an anger, and a gloom within the countenance of each person before them.
Just as they were about to leave the center of the village swarm, three of the bearded and sweaty men yelled, “Despicable, tasteless, and dirty whore!” and then one of them grabbed Tayi by the hair, slapped her across the face with the back of his hand, threw her to the ground, and shoved Shayeena to the edge of the crowd. He then hit Tayi in the face with his fist so hard that she fell to the ground in shock and horror.
She began to find her awareness, as her young body began to shake off the shock of her impending reality, and she tried to get up off the dirt, which was bloodied from the wounds she had sustained from the barbarity, but the crowd circled around her not giving her a chance for escape. She felt helpless and noticed them backing away. She looked for Shayeena but could not see her. She could only hear her muffled screams, ignored by everyone else.
Then she saw the stones as they began to fly from the fist of every person within that circle surrounding her. Each stone hit her hard and each one of them hurt with a profound thud and sting. She screamed. She cried. They maimed her, the stones tore her skin, and her bones were crushed—jutting out of her limbs and her chest. She began to feel numb and was all of a sudden, no longer worried about mortality for the first time in her life. At this moment, she spoke not a word; she just looked at the betrayal of the villagers, the stare of hatred burning within their eyes—the remorseless murder they were all a party to.
Shayeena fought through the crowd to try to get to her friend, but she was so small and light the crowd kept shoving her back. She had promised to protect Tayi, and now, during her time of need, for all she tried, she could do nothing. Through a small hole in the crowd, she could see Tayi, and she looked as if she were prey in the midst of a game of an unfair hunt.
After so much brutality, Tayi no longer felt the pain of the stones as one large stone hit her on the head and she fell to the ground, limp, and she blacked out. They continued to throw stones at her lifeless seeming body, while Shayeena kept scrambling to find a hole big enough to get through the crowd to try to stop the barbarism, but no one would let her through.
When Tayi opened her eyes, tears and blood welled down her bruised, broken, and flesh-torn face, and she felt more alone than she had ever been in her entire life. The crowd knew no mercy, no succor, no compassion, and she felt the life going out of her.
“Stop! Stop! Stop!” yelled a familiar voice behind the crowd. The Imam raised his hand and held the crowd back, showing his holy mercy. It was Tayi’s father. He had rushed there with his wife and the Imam granted Tayi’s parents a chance to have their final moments with her.
Her parents happened to be going into town not too far behind Tayi because they had sensed something was different about her. She had been very quiet that morning, so they sensed something broken, something tore within her countenance—the tears on her face said it all—and when they saw her, with anguish they knew they were too late, and no matter what they could have done, they were helpless now to save her from this barbarism.
Tayi felt crushed, broken and traumatized in every way, she could barely feel a glimmer of life, and she knew she would die this day.
The crowd had stopped, but the damage was done.
Tayi’s parents raced to her through the menacing crowd, and at the Imam’s bidding, the crowd backed away. Her father fell to his knees before her, reached out with his arms, pulled her to him, and cradled Tayi’s limp body in his arms, weeping, sobbing, and feeling a deep pain within for this injustice, this barbarism, this inhumanity that had been hurled at his poor sweet and darling daughter. He cried up to the heavens, “Why!? Oh, my poor, sweet angel! My little girl! How could you do this!? All of you, how could you do this!?” No one seemed to hear, and no one seemed to care. The villagers all seemed to laugh at his pain, suffering, and impending loss. The village ladies were sticking their tongues out and waving them, celebrating and mocking Tayi’s misfortune. He looked upon his broken daughter as she was dying, and all that went through his mind was that something had gone horribly wrong and he hadn’t been there to stop it. He was a noble and loving man, and he was always looking after his family with the vigor of a lion, yet spoke with the softness of a lamb, yet, despite his always kind demeanor, he asked within his mind, “What happened to common decency, to kindness, to love, to compassion? How could they have killed my daughter, why would they and how could they abuse and snuff the life out of someone who was harmless, sweet, and innocent?”
Shayeena was in tears. Finally making her way through the crowd of what had seemed as savage and possessed monsters, she saw as her friend’s father embraced her while on his knees, crying, staring at her and then at the heavens with tears in his eyes, and lost while Tayi lay at death’s door and with not a single thing that her young mind or her fragile body could have done to prevent it. Neither Shayeena nor Tayi had ever witnessed brutality like this before. They never knew people, who once seemed so kind, could turn around and be so cruel. Instead of standing among people she once thought of as friends, she had all this time been standing in a sea of enemies, of demons, with no ally, no friend, no judgment, and no one to explain why this had happened.
As her heart sank, the crowd had begun to disperse. She then looked downward again, toward Tayi lying in her father’s arms. She was no longer quivering in pain but engulfed in shock, she was momentarily aware and almost lifeless. Her father was on his knees in the bloodied dirt and near the bloodied stones, stained with the life of Tayi. Tayi’s father—his wee
ping, wailing, and his sadness overcame him. As Shayeena looked around at the dispersing crowd, there had been one young man who had not thrown a single stone but had instead looked on with helplessness at what had been going on before him with horror and anguish—this young man was Khalim. He was one of two sons, one of the sons of the village Imam. His older brother had thrown plenty of stones, but somehow Khalim was able to escape from soiling his soul with this brutality, unnoticed, and had avoided being chastised by his father or anyone else for not having participated in this barbarism. He was a handsome young man—a few years older than she.
She then looked upon Tayi, who had, for just a few short moments, opened her tear-stained and bloodied eyes with even more tears and blood gushing out, and turned to her father and said, “I am sorry father. I’m so sorry.”
“Oh, my little girl, you should not be sorry, you have nothing to be sorry for. This is not your fault. You were a good girl. You have always blessed our lives. You are my daughter. I love you, Tayi. I’m so sorry this happened, I’m so sorry. Things like this should never happen. This should not have happened,” her father said embracing her again. Still, on his knees not caring that Tayi’s blood would stain his clothes, this was his beautiful and sweet daughter. He was shattered from the dreams of the future he had hoped for Tayi, his lovely daughter, and now seeing all of those dreams stripped away moment by moment, in a state of shock, he witnessed each second pass as her life was all-too quickly slipping away. He would be left without her, the bright and cheery spirit that made every day so full of hope, and he would be left with nothing to fill the void.
Further than Before- Pathway to the Stars Page 79