‘Sometimes,’ said Ebla.
‘I am going down town in another hour or two. Do you want to come with me?’
‘Yes. I want to come.’
But before they left for town, Asha and Ebla transferred Awill’s belongings back to the room, and re-arranged it exactly as it had been when he left for Italy.
30
Ebla and Asha went down town to shop. Ebla had not been to many places in Mogadiscio, and every time that she saw something new to her, she would say to herself repeatedly, ‘This is not my place. I am an intruder. Inwardly I feel like my brother, although my nature is different and my emotional make-up is cooler than his.’ But she would brush aside such objections which kept forcing themselves into her mind.
While they were still out shopping, Awill arrived back at the house. Somebody told him where Ebla was likely to have left the key in case she was out. Opening the room, he found that almost everything was as he had left it. There was nothing more, nor less. Awill walked around searching for something, but he did not know what. Then suddenly he saw beneath a plate leaning against the window-pane the photo of that Italian girl which he had sent to Jama a long time ago. He could hardly believe his eyes at first.
‘How can it be?’ he said aloud, as if speaking to someone else. ‘Jama, the bastard. He gave me away. I knew he would. It is the region where he comes from. There nobody confides in anybody. Why did he bring her the photo? I did something wrong, but is it such a big crime—and against whom is it a crime? I like Ebla. I did not like her at first when we were married—how could I? I hardly knew her, but I like her more now and I don’t want to lose her because of girls who were just a pastime. You go and visit a country. You befriend a girl from that country, and then you talk about it to friends afterwards. But I never intended to marry her or take her seriously. She was just there to help kill the time.’
Turning around, Awill found Ebla standing in the doorway. He kept quite still.
‘I have been listening,’ said Ebla.
‘Who told you that I had come back?’
‘The woman who directed you to where the key was. She told me that you had come.’
‘Nabad,’ he said.
‘Nabad,’ she replied, forcing a smile on her face. She didn’t move.
‘You’ve grown fatter,’ he said, his hands in his pockets, watching her curiously.
‘Have I?’ she said. ‘And you’ve got thinner.’
‘Have I lost weight?’ he asked.
‘Yes. Maybe because you ate pork.’
He kept quiet.
‘Tell me, did you?’
‘We’ve just met. Let us talk about something else, shall we?’
‘Yes. But what? What is wrong in asking if you ate pork?’ said she, coming into the room now and throwing her shawl on the bed.
‘Who told you that I ate pork? It is funny. I mean what we are talking about. We have not even exchanged greetings yet.’
‘Yes, we have. The necessary greeting is over,’ she said.
‘Oh, yes. Well, yes, I did eat pork, and it is delicious.’
‘That is what makes you look thinner. You ate something forbidden by our religion. It is a bastard’s diet. It does not agree with your stomach and you will get sick—worms and all that.’
‘I only ate it twice,’ Awill said.
‘And did you drink?’
‘Look, let us stop talking like this. I am tired. I want to take a bath and have a little nap and then talk. Didn’t my aunt come here?’
‘Yes. How did you know?’
‘She wrote to me.’
‘She brought my brother along with her, but he did not like Mogadiscio. You know my grandfather has died.’
‘Did you have a grandfather?’
‘Yes. I had one and I told you about him. You have a very bad memory: one day you will forget that I am your wife.’
‘No, I won’t. I won’t.’
Inwardly she felt an urge to get down to brass tacks, to stop this sort of talk and finalize all her doubts. However, she was so tired of all these escapades, which didn’t benefit her in the least. Maybe problems would solve themselves, she thought.
‘Did Jama give you any money?’
‘Yes,’ Ebla said.
She was in a state of suspense. She looked at his dark, handsome, well-framed face and wondered if she could guess what he was thinking about. His profile showed a long nose, and the chin was sharper than she had thought. Ebla started as if to say something to him, but nothing came out. She just stared at her husband, who had just come back from the land of the foreigner, and she was uneasy. His silence made her uneasy. Even if she wanted to talk, what could she say to him?
‘Why didn’t you ask your brother to stay?’ Awill asked.
‘I asked him to, but he refused.’
‘Why didn’t you insist?’
‘Why should I? If he didn’t want to, then it was best that he should go back to the country.’
‘What will he do in the country?’
‘Look after the beasts, of course. What else would he do? Count how many stars there are in the sky during daytime. Those beasts are our wealth, they are all that we possess in this world, he and I. I am here, a wife, and he ought to be there—and it was a mistake in the first place for him to have come here.’
‘But he will die ignorant. He will not have learnt anything before the earth eats away his bones. That will be the first lesson of life for him.’
‘People here in Mogadiscio and in towns don’t have the slightest idea how to take care of beasts, how to milk them, how to love them, how to sacrifice their own lives to make the beasts happy and fat and healthy. They know how to eat meat and drink milk, but that is all they know. How ignorant and proud they are! A white man’s language is no knowledge.’
‘But loving the beasts was what you ran away from, wasn’t it? Don’t forget you own self. I wonder if women will ever decide what they want. Why are you all so undecided; why are you all so insecure?’
‘Because we don’t have anywhere else to run to. Our only refuge lies in indecision and we don’t know if our decisions will bear fruit.’
‘It is a mistake on your part to have sent the boy back. How old is he?’
‘Sixteen.’
‘Sixteen.’ Ebla thought, ‘Is he sixteen or eighteen?’
‘And he has never been to school?’
‘No. And never will.’
‘But how could you send him back. Why this punishment?’
‘It is not punishment. I want him to learn his trade, and he is happy.’
‘You know how you were created?’ he asked smiling.
‘Yes, from clay like you,’ she replied, also smiling.
‘Not from clay! Adam was created by God from clay. I mean from where woman was created.’
‘Yes, I know,’ Ebla said.
‘But don’t tell me. Let me tell you.’
‘Why should you tell me? I know it. I know where woman was created from.’
‘But don’t tell me. Let me tell you that they were created from the crooked rib of Adam.’ After saying this, Awill kept silent for a while. Then Ebla, who had been also talking and not listening to him, added, ‘And if anyone tries to straighten it, he will have to break it.’
Although the sun was not down, the room was quite dark. ‘Should I tell you everything, Awill?’ Ebla asked after a long silence.
‘Maybe tomorrow when you have thoroughly decided,’ he said. Awill closed the door, went and took a bath and then came back. Both naked, they got under the same cover and Ebla wondered if tomorrow’s sun would rise with happiness, and the morning brightness would bring along some encouragement. She also wondered if she would tell him everything she had done during his absence.
‘Tomorrow,’ said Awill, moving towards her with desire.
‘Tomorrow. We will tell each other everything tomorrow. You’ll tell me everything, and I shall tell you everything.’
Ebla smelt his
maleness. She touched his forehead and, as usual, he was hot with desire. He smiled at her and she smiled back at him.
‘Poor fellow, he needs me,’ she thought. ‘He is sex-starved.’
‘Yes. Tomorrow,’ Ebla murmured and welcomed his hot and warm world into her cool and calm kingdom.
CHANDIGARH (INDIA)
19th March—15th April, 1968.
Glossary of Some Somali Words
Nabad Peace be unto you. ‘Salam’ is the Arabic equivalent for Nabad which is also in common use among the Somalis.
Hamar Local name for Mogadiscio.
Harr Roughly noon-time.
Qora Breakfast.
Qado Lunch.
Sholongo This is some form of savings account common among women before the advent of banking in Somaliland. Each woman pays a specific amount daily, which can be withdrawn only when one’s turn comes.
Ashantu This is a bastard form of the Arabic word Ahsanta, which means ‘thank you’. Mahadsanid is the Somali equivalent; it has been coined recently, and isn’t as often used as the former.
Yarad The price paid to the parents of the bride or her relations by the bridegroom and/or his relations.
Meherr A token amount either in kind or cash paid to the wife in case of divorce or death of husband. Naming of the amount is considered an important factor of the marriage contract. But it is more or less a promise the husband makes to the wife or her relations before they embark on the marriage: this is done in the presence of witnesses.
Wilaya This is the acceptance-of-the-marriage-to-Mr-So-and-So word uttered by the bride or her relations. Since the bride is never present at the engagement spot, she entrusts the word to a male member of her relations or a man of God who speak on her behalf.
Adan and Hawa The Somali equivalent of Adam and Eve.
Waji Fur This literally means ‘Opening of the Face’, and is common in the South of Somalia and the Somali part in Ethiopia. Being for the first time the bridegroom meets the bride, the fee is paid to the bride on the opening of her face.
Khaddar This is supposed to be the prophet of Mercy.
Fal Foretelling the future by drawing dots on the ground.
Amhar A member of the dominant Ethiopian tribe.
FOR MORE FROM NURUDDIN FARAH, LOOK FOR THE
“Nuruddin Farah, the most important African novelist to emerge in the last twenty-five years, is also one of the most sophisticated voices in modern fiction.”
—The New York Review of Books
Links
Before he left for a twenty-year exile in America, Jeebleh’s last residence in Mogadiscio had been a jail cell. When he finally returns, it is to a decimated city that U.S. troops have recently abandoned, ruled by clan warlords and patrolled by gangs who shoot civilians to relieve their adolescent boredom. Jeebleh finds himself in the midst of swirling violence and corruption once back home as he attempts to rescue a little girl and reunite the family of his oldest friend. Gripping, provocative, and revelatory, Links is the finest work yet from Farah, a novel that stands as a classic of modern world literature.
ISBN 0-14-303484-7
Farah’s acclaimed Blood in the Sun trilogy
Secrets
“Hypnotic . . . Secrets is a shape-shifter—murder mystery, family saga, magical realist thriller.”
—Newsday
Set against the backdrop of Somalia’s devastating civil war, Secrets is a stunning revelatory novel. The city of Mogadiscio is in crisis when Kalaman receives an unexpected houseguest, his childhood crush returned from America. Sensual and demanding, Sholoongo announces her intention to have Kalaman’s child, pulling him back into a past full of doubts and secrets to uncover the startling truth of his own conception.
ISBN 0-14-028045-6
Gifts
“Farah weaves together myth, dream, and realism to create literature that is truly world-class.”
—Los Angeles Times Book Review
The second in Farah’s trilogy, Gifts tells the story of Duniya, a single mother working at the troubled hospital in Mogadiscio. In luxuriant prose, Farah weaves events into a tapestry of dreams, memories, family lore, folktales, and journalistic accounts. Both personal and political, Gifts explores the values, challenges, and sufferings of one family—and an entire people.
ISBN 0-14-029642-5
Maps
“Startling . . . passionate. Farah’s masterpiece.”
—The New York Times Book Review
A strikingly lyrical novel, Maps is the story of Askar, an orphan whose mother died in childbirth and whose father was killed in the bloody war dividing Somalia and Ethiopia before he was born. As a precocious adolescent, he leaves for Mogadiscio in search of a perspective on both his country and himself, and at the hub of violence, Askar throws himself into radical political activity that continually challenges the murky boundaries of his own being, just as “revolution” redefines Somalia’s own borders.
ISBN 0-14-029643-3
From a Crooked Rib Page 15