From a Crooked Rib

by Nuruddin Farah

  ‘So he won’t hear of it?’ the widow continued. ‘I told him that he is lucky to have you. He could start primary classes,’ (Ebla did not know this herself) ‘and could become a teacher like Awill. You know Awill came to me when he was fourteen. That is the time he started going to school. And now he is a teacher, and he can speak Italian better than the white man. However, if your brother has decided to go back tomorrow, then I will take him back with me tomorrow. Only it will be very tiring for me to go tomorrow. I could do with a good rest.

  ‘Tomorrow morning. I want to go tomorrow.’

  In the evening they ate their dinner, and then slept. Asha lent them an extra bed and mattress. Ebla and her brother slept on one bed, adjacent to the entrance, away from the wall, where the widow was sleeping.

  The widow read out the opening Sura of the Koran. That was her habit before she went to bed, she said, but Ebla could not remember that she had this habit when they were in Belet Wene. Anyway, Ebla fell asleep as soon as she lay on the bed.

  Later there was a knock on the window; then a pause, then another knock; then a pause, then another knock, and a further pause.

  The widow woke up. She thought it was an hallucination or some such feeling that one gets when one is in a new place.

  ‘Ebla,’ the widow heard a man’s voice calling. Then the same thing happened all over again. This time Ebla awoke, and replied, ‘Yes. What do you want? Who are you?’

  ‘Tiffo,’ he replied. ‘I want to talk to you. Come to the window. ’ The widow pretended to be asleep, but as soon as Ebla joined Tiffo, she strained to hear what they were saying. She could vaguely hear, ‘. . . My wife . . . she came . . . Asha. Tell her tomorrow morning . . . I am in trouble . . . will send a letter . . . as soon as possible.’ Then they exchanged farewells and Tiffo left. The widow cancelled the notions she had formed the moment she heard the man calling to Ebla.

  Back in bed, Ebla smiled to herself in the dark. ‘Oh God in the heavens, it is great,’ she thought. ‘Tiffo will not come back to me. If what he says is true and he sends me the letter of divorce as soon as he can, then some of the problems will need no solution on my part. But if Awill comes home with the white woman, then I must do something about it to preserve my dignity. He can become a Gentile himself, but not at my expense.’ In another few minutes, she fell asleep again.

  The widow still wondered if her interpretation of the incident was correct. But she left for Belet Wene the following morning with Ebla’s brother.

  25

  Ebla tried to make do with whatever Tiffo gave her. But it required enormous patience to kill the anger and disappointments in him that she felt. He came to her place whenever he could, leaving behind some money, somewhere, underneath the pillow or on the table.

  He did this as he was leaving for his day’s work, whatever it was. Ebla had become a sound sleeper of late, and she would never budge when he left.

  Asha spoke to her about it several times. Ebla had no objection to Asha’s unending, pretentious and unacceptable chatter. Today she would be annoyed with Tiffo and would put in a good word for Awill; tomorrow she would change her tune completely: ‘Tiffo is the man you need,’ she would urge Ebla. Only God knew what her reactions would be the third day, Ebla told herself. Beyond the shadow of a doubt, Asha was not pleased about the financial and marital behaviour of Tiffo.

  ‘He treats you like a harlot,’ she told her one day.

  ‘How?’

  ‘Well, that is the way they do it.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Well, you are a fool, then. They give money to the harlots the way he gives it to you.’

  ‘But I am not a harlot.’

  ‘That is exactly what I say. You are not.’

  ‘And I would not want to be one,’ was Ebla’s final word. ‘Come what may, I am not going to act like a harlot. He is my husband.’

  ‘But he doesn’t associate as he does with his wife.’

  Ebla thought over the question many a time, and finally she made up her mind. ‘Asha doesn’t have to tell me what to do and what not to do. I am twenty, or almost twenty. It is me who marries or is divorced, so she doesn’t have to put her nose into my private business. I will tell her to keep out of it. In future, I am responsible for whatever I do. Tomorrow, I will tell her. Tomorrow. In future I will be myself and belong to myself, and my actions will belong to me. And I will, in turn, belong to them.’

  Eventually she did manage to tell Asha to keep out of her own affairs. Then Ebla was happy. ‘I am master of myself. The widow is not here. My cousin is not here. My brother has gone home and will never come back to give me orders. Tiffo is not here, so nobody can give me orders—at least, not until Awill comes home. And when he comes home, which will not be long now, I will tell him what he deserves. I am master of myself.’

  Now Awill was expected any day. Ebla was uncertain about her stability. Tiffo had not stopped coming when his wife came to town, as she had expected. Instead, he came in the daytime, which made things worse for Ebla. Although she attempted to tell him what she thought about their ‘secret marriage’, which had nothing behind it except sharing a bed and earning some money from him, she hesitated. She just could not choose the right words to tell him, or even find time. One day—the day before Awill arrived back—Tiffo came to perform his task. They were in bed within a minute or two. The rituals of bed were over in no time.

  ‘What a tiring day,’ he said, after he had dressed.

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘I left my wife and told her that I was going to do some business in town. I took my car and drove out, but then, the moment I reached the first bend, I could see her coming after me. Well, she did that several times, but I dodged her all the time. I stopped somewhere near the other bend where I guessed she would take a taxi. Then I stopped and waited. She came out, but could not find a taxi. So I parked my car at a place where she would not be able to notice. After that she returned home, biting her nails and she must have been swearing to herself.’ He heaved up his belly and mumbled something irrelevant.

  Ebla could not understand anything about cars. She had never been in one and she never wanted to ride in one. Whenever she went down to town, it was never beyond the market of Bondere and she always walked with Asha. Fortunately Asha was never prepared to pay a cent for a taxi. ‘Why, better walk, and buy as many shoes as you can. And that won’t cost you much. And why hurry? Start your journey early and naturally the bastards of shopkeepers will wait for you. If you cannot make it today, then wait till tomorrow.’ That was what Asha had said, so why think about Tiffo’s cars. Tiffo was silent. ‘Frankness is the only resort,’ thought Ebla.

  ‘Does your wife know that you are married to another wife? Have you told her?’ she asked him.

  ‘No, she does not. And I have no intention of telling her. Why should she know?’ he said, turning his face towards her, perhaps to have a better look now that she asked a question she had never dared to ask before.

  ‘I know that you are married to another one, and I thought she might as well know about me.’

  ‘She doesn’t have to.’

  ‘Supposing she does, what happens?’

  ‘Nothing,’ he said curtly.

  ‘Tell her then.’ She thought, ‘You son of a bastard.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I don’t want to.’

  ‘What is her name?’ She wanted to add ‘. . . you spineless coward.’

  ‘Why do you want to know?’

  ‘You see, she is the other woman who shares you with me. Islam permits a man to marry four wives,’ suggested Ebla, forcing a sly smile upon her face.

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Do you have two more except ourselves?’ She wanted to add ‘Excluding whores that is.’

  ‘Look, I am not going to be questioned by my wife, so don’t speak to me like that.’

  ‘No. No. Don’t be angry. I just wanted to tell you one thi
ng.’ She said to herself, ‘I must butter up the idiot.’

  ‘Yes. Tell me.’

  ‘I am also married.’ She thought, ‘How does that hit you?’

  ‘To me. You are married to me. Ah! Ah!’ he said, trying to be whimsical and witty as he could. He laughed a great belly-laugh, and then he checked himself.

  ‘No. To another one. You see, you two take turns. When you used to come to me at night-time, his turn was day-time. You remember that night when you left for Baidoa in the morning and came in the evening, knocked on the window and told me about the arrival of your wife, do you remember that night?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said, and jumped up.

  ‘He was here that night. And he was in bed with me. You remember I told you to go away immediately?’

  ‘Yes. I remember that.’

  ‘He was with me in bed. That was why I told you to go away and leave me. I told you a lie, I told you I had just had my period.’

  ‘What is his name?’ he said. He gritted his teeth with anger.

  ‘I will tell you only if you tell me the name of your wife,’ said Ebla, blackmailing him.

  ‘My wife’s name is Ardo,’ said he.

  ‘Say “My other wife’s name is Ardo”, because I am also your wife. Don’t forget that.’

  ‘I won’t forget that. But what is this man’s name?’

  ‘My other husband’s name is Awill,’ Ebla replied.

  ‘You are telling me a lie.’

  ‘No. I am not telling you a lie. Why should I? You have another wife and I have another husband. We are even: you are a man and I am a woman, so we are equal. You need me and I need you. We are equal.’

  ‘We are not equal. You are a woman and you are inferior to me. And if you have another husband, you are a harlot,’ said Tiffo, standing up, his lips and hands quivering. ‘But I don’t believe you.’ He pointed his finger at her.

  ‘Call Asha. Ask her if I am married to a man called Awill. Call her. It is a challenge.’ She too was now bolt-upright.

  Tiffo shouted to Asha, who came rushing and panting.

  ‘Is this true?’ asked Tiffo.

  ‘Is what true?’ asked Asha.

  ‘That Ebla is the wife of Awill?’

  After a little hesitation, Asha reluctantly said, ‘Yes, she is.’

  ‘Then you are divorced,’ said Tiffo and walked away, pushing aside Asha, who stood in the doorway.

  ‘Let me bring witnesses,’ shouted Ebla after him.

  ‘No need. I will keep my word. You are divorced,’ he also shouted back.

  Ebla did not care about the uproar this had created. ‘Awill will come tomorrow. Tomorrow,’ was all that she said. That night she had lovely dreams.

  26

  Ebla and Asha crouched on the ground, their hands resting on their laps, and their eyes fixed on the man whom they had come to consult. For no apparent reason, Ebla felt fatigued, and had it been possible to go away without hurting the feelings of others, and without causing any inconvenience to the man whose advice she had come to seek, she would have walked away. But the man was a savant, and he was going to make a prediction on which Ebla’s life and destiny depended. Ebla did not feel uncomfortable inhaling the dust, but she felt it a bit choking. She got tired of making strokes and insignificant drawings on the ground. Her fingers were all dirty, her nails, long and uncut, looked very much out of shape, and her dress needed to be washed. She looked at it quickly and decided she would wash it as soon as she went home.

  The man whom they came to consult did not possess the air of a savant and maybe that was what impressed Ebla most. Knowledge and blessings are bestowed by God upon those whom one never thinks highly of—that was what people said, and maybe it was true, Ebla thought. The man had a thick beard, untrimmed but combed nicely with the wooden comb which he had on his head: he looked like an Indian Sikh. He was not the type to swindle money out of people, Ebla assured herself. His belly protruded slightly forward and to a careless observer he might appear to be a rich man. He would caress his belly and mumble some inaudible words.

  Ebla could not follow what he said, but Asha gave her frightening looks when she spoke. She therefore lost interest and sank into oblivion, which would not get her anywhere. There were many things to distract her attention, but she eventually decided, in spite of herself, that she must attend to the savant.

  He counted the beads of his rosary, making it a point that Ebla and Asha would not count it with him, by hiding some under his thick hairy fingers. He counted the beads four times, and whenever he came to the red coral, which partitioned the black rosary beads into groups of thirty-three, he would stop to make a sign on the ground to represent what he had counted. The sign was either a dot or two dots. If the beads he counted were even, he would make two dots. And if odd, only one dot. When he marked one dot, he would use his forefinger, when two dots, any two fingers. Now that he came to the fourth round, Ebla and Asha sat patiently on the ground like cattle, waiting for the savant to speak out what he had seen.

  The consultant seemed to be in distress. Wrinkles covered almost all his face, which was covered with scars. He frowned and licked his lips, perhaps as a sign of concentration.

  ‘This fellow does not look happy about the outcome,’ thought Ebla.

  ‘What did you see?’ enquired Asha. Ebla was unable to open her mouth. Although it was her problem, she was very young and it seemed most strange to her to talk to the man. But she had reluctantly agreed to let Asha deputize for her, make all the transactions and do all the talking connected with the issue.

  ‘Something is obscure,’ said the man.

  ‘We have told you everything. Everything. We are not withholding any information,’ Asha said.

  ‘There is a gap somewhere,’ said the man.

  ‘Where?’

  ‘In what you told me.’

  Ebla decided to talk, but before she could, Asha motioned to her to keep out of the discussion.

  ‘I cannot make predictions unless you tell me the whole story. There are many men in the life of this girl. Many. More than four. Actually the fourth is only represented by a streak of shadow—quite an insignificant matter.’

  ‘We are not withholding anything from you,’ Asha insisted, making an attempt to convince him.

  He shook his head, indicating that he did not believe this. It was a great effort on Ebla’s part to keep quiet. It was not her suggestion in the first place to consult this man. She had agreed to it because she thought she was in a miserable state of mind. Asha had convinced her of the truthfulness of the Fal, and Ebla succumbed again, but simply because there seemed to be nothing else to do.

  ‘Tell me the whole story. Then I will tell you what I saw in the Fal.’

  ‘We’ve told you everything.’

  ‘I don’t think so. You are wasting my time.’

  ‘Is it a bad thing or is it a good thing that you saw in the Fal? Just tell us that, and we will pay your fee.’

  ‘Not good and not bad.’

  ‘Then what did you see?’

  ‘She is sick. Somebody sent an evil-eye on her. It is very young and she can be cured.’

  ‘By whom?’

  ‘Don’t take her to the hospital. Take her to a medicine-man, a priest and then he should read the Holy Book over her. Make it quick, otherwise something will happen to her, something very awful.’

  ‘When is the auspicious time?’ Asha asked.

  ‘Can you afford it today?’

  Asha looked in the direction of Ebla who gave her approval by nodding her head.

  ‘Yes,’ Asha replied.

  ‘Then do it today.’

  ‘Here is your fee,’ said Asha, handing him some money.

  ‘Ten shillings? I don’t accept it.’

  ‘But you told us to pay you whatever we felt was suitable, so now I am paying you ten shillings.’

  ‘It is not sufficient, it is very little. Add five, only five. I charge people according to their standard of living and
I can guess that by looking at them.’ Asha paid him another five as he asked and they left.

  As soon as they entered the house, Ebla felt that there were lots of people there. She also saw one of the female tenants coming out of a room, carrying a small girl in her arms. The girl had her eyes closed, Ebla could see, and there were some blood spots on the dress of the woman who carried her. Ebla stood watching, and Asha went to her room, minding her own business. To her, perhaps, it was an everyday affair, as it was also to Ebla. But Ebla had supposed that the people in the towns had left that sort of thing. Now she could hear the drums being beaten and women talking at the tops of their voices.

  ‘Oh, my God. What a painful thing it was,’ she recalled. There were only two times that she wished she had not been born, and one of them was when she was circumcized. It was not only painful but a barbarous act, she thought. ‘Are there people in the world who are not circumcised?’ she wondered.

  She recalled everything. They had sliced out her clitoris and stitched the lips together, thus blocking the passageway, but also leaving a small inlet for urinating through. They had tied her legs together, and she had been lain flat on the ground without any mattress or anything underneath her, for she would bleed on it. They had beaten drums when the girls cried, so that the beating of the drums would drown the crying. If a girl cried too much, they tucked a piece of cloth into her mouth. The wound would not heal, they had said, if a boy saw it or a woman who had just committed adultery. So the girls had been confined in a hut for a period of between ten and twelve days.

  She also recalled that other night of pain—the first time she had ever had sexual contact. It was with Awill, and it was very painful, indescribably painful. She had bled and he rejoiced seeing her blood, as his manhood depended upon breaking her chastity.

  Now she stood motionless, watching. Asha came and spoke to her. Ebla did not hear, although Asha thought she had. Ebla went on thinking that because woman was created by God from the crooked rib of Adam, she is too crooked to be straightened. And anybody who tries risks breaking her. Maybe kidneys are called ‘a woman’s share of meat’, because those men who eat kidneys are found to be of a lower, different category of men.