Ziad was nowhere to be seen when I arrived, and later on that afternoon when Umie Ayesha came around to see the children she told me he had gone to Sanaa the day before; he told her he was doing work and would be gone for a week or so. Ziad was always doing one dodgy deal or the other, but I was happy just to have him gone because it meant that I could have some peace and quiet!
This wasn’t the first time Ziad had taken off to Sanaa without telling us; some days he would say he was going to Rada’a and not come back for days or even more, and then he would say he had been in Sanaa working. I knew he was selling alcohol because he would hide boxes of it in the stables of our house and sell them from there. Ziad was involved in a lot of things he shouldn’t have been involved in, but I knew better than to question him on his business.
When he did come back he was in a good mood because he had made himself some money. This was typical of Ziad’s behaviour, he didn’t mention what happened before he left or ask me where we had been, he didn’t care, and I didn’t care that he didn’t care! As long as he had money in his pocket he didn’t care what happened to any of us, but within days that money was gone, he had spent it on himself, and once it was gone he was back to see what he could sell from the house.
It wasn’t long before Yas found out that Ziad was selling the food that she gave us; she and Abdul were furious! I begged Abdul not to say anything to Ziad but he confronted him. Ziad denied everything and said I was lying. However, Abdul knew better than to believe Ziad, he’d been told by many people who’d seen Ziad selling the food in the market and gone back to inform him. Ziad didn’t stop selling our food, instead he would leave us a little and sell the rest of it, and although I’d lie to Yas and tell her he’d stopped she knew I was lying, but she’d never questioned me. She knew things were difficult for me and she also knew that if I could’ve stopped Ziad taking the food I would have, so alongside the food she would give me extra money, and tell me to hide it.
Months passed by so quickly and Ziad left me alone the heavier into my pregnancy I got. He never could stand being close to me while I was heavily pregnant and he spent most of his time in Sanaa.
In the meantime I spent more and more time over Thahaba’s house getting closer to Anwar, until one day he finally told me how he felt.
Ziad was away in Sanaa and I was in my last month of pregnancy and staying at Thahaba’s. She had gone off to visit her sister for a bit that afternoon leaving Anwar and I alone in the house. The kids were outside playing and Anwar came and sat next to me with a book in his hand, asking me to help him read it. We sat shoulder to shoulder reading the book, laughing as we always did, when suddenly he quickly kissed me on the lips! I didn’t pull away or kiss him back, not because I didn’t want to, but because it all happened so fast.
“Sorry!” he said, worried, as he looked away. I had a smile on my face as I nudged his shoulder with mine.
“Why are you sorry?” I said quietly. “I’m not!”
Anwar’s eyes lit up as he looked back at me. “Really? I didn’t think you wanted me to kiss you!”
I could see his chest moving up and down because he was breathing heavily, he was nervous. I looked into his eyes; he had the most beautiful green eyes that lit up when he smiled.
“I’m worried about what could happen if we did fall in love and act on those feelings, what could happen if people found out?” I told him, but he just took my hand and kissed it.
“It’s too late for me; I’m already in love with you! I have been from the first night we spoke on the roof, all I need to know is do you feel the same way about me?” he asked, holding my hand to his chest. I nodded my head.
“Yes I do, but I’m worried,” I admitted.
He put his arms around me and pulled me closer to him. “I promise you, I will never disrespect or hurt you or your children, or give you reason to worry, what we feel for each other is not wrong and nobody will ever find out from my mouth, this has to do with us and the children.”
He held me close and we sat in silence until we heard a noise on the stairs. Thahaba had come back early, so we took the book and I carried on teaching him English as we always did when she was around.
We tried to carry on as normal, but from then on Anwar and I couldn’t hide the way we glanced at each other from across the room, we couldn’t look away from one another when our eyes caught the other’s stare. Now we would stare into each other’s eyes and smile, only breaking eye contact if we feared we would get caught. On the roof at night we snuggled up to each other and stole the odd kiss.
I stayed for a few more nights but things were about to change once more; Ziad was back from Sanaa, he was broke and he wanted money!
That night I’d put the children to bed and Thahaba, Anwar and I were sat up chatting in their room, when suddenly there was a bang on the door; it was a heavy bang and I knew straight away it was Ziad! We all looked at each other as Anwar went to stand up to open the door. “No, I will go!” Thahaba insisted as she stood up. The banging continued while she made her way downstairs.
It was a small house and there were only a few stairs from the front door to the room that we were sat in, so we could hear the conversation clearly as she opened the front door to Ziad. He was drunk, but not too drunk that he couldn’t hold a conversation, or know what he was doing or saying, and he was being rude, demanding to see me! As I stood up to go downstairs Anwar put his hand out to me.
“You don’t have to speak to him, she will get rid of him,” he said.
I knew I had to. “I’m OK!” I said, as I walked towards the door. “He will only come back later if I don’t speak to him now.”
At the front door as Thahaba told Ziad off for being rude and a bully, she too tried to convince me that I didn’t have to speak to him, but I assured her I would be OK, so she walked back upstairs leaving Ziad and me alone on the doorstep.
Not wanting him to wake the children with his shouting I stepped outside and pulled the door, only leaving it slightly ajar. “What do you want?” I asked sternly. I wasn’t scared of him as we stood there face to face, even though I knew he was unpredictable, especially when drunk!
Ziad was demanding that I give him money, and when I told him I didn’t have any he said he knew my sister gave me money, and he wanted it. I told him once again that I didn’t have any, but even if I did I wouldn’t give it to him, because any money my sister did or didn’t give me was for my children!
Ziad then grabbed me by my throat and started squeezing really tightly. “Just give me some money!” he breathed in my face. I didn’t cry out or make a noise. Even though he had his hand tightly around my neck I could still breathe. Realising I wasn’t going to give in to his commands he squeezed once more. “I want you and my children home tomorrow!” he told me in a threatening tone before letting me go, and then he punched me in the face, making me stumble backwards onto the front door, before he quickly walked off.
Thahaba came running down when she heard the noise from me falling back onto the door. As soon as I gained my balance I quickly locked the front door, realising Anwar was behind her, heading down the stairs. I could see anger in Thahaba’s face when she saw blood dripping from my nose, but the look in Anwar’s eyes was something different; he looked hurt, like a man who wanted revenge!
“I’m going to kill that bastard!” he raged, heading for the door. Thahaba turned around and blocked his path as he tried to storm past her.
“No you don’t! What are you going to do?” she demanded to know as she shoved him back up towards the top of the stairs.
She tried to calm him down, placing her hands on his shoulders and looking him in his eyes. “I’m not stupid my brother! I know how you two feel about each other, so I know why you’re so angry, but this isn’t your fight! If you go after him you will only make things worse for her.” Thahaba then turned and looked at me but I hung my head in shame, I couldn’t look at her knowing she had found out about Anwar and me.
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�Don’t look away from me! You need to speak to him if you want to stop him from getting killed!” she told me in an angry tone.
“She’s right,” I said, looking up, wiping the blood from my nose with my sleeve. “There’s nothing you or anyone else can do or say that will change him, so why bother?” I made my way back upstairs as Thahaba escorted an angry Anwar back into the room, and I made my way into the kitchen to clean myself up and check that the children were still asleep.
Thankfully my children were good sleepers who slept through most things, but as I looked at them I couldn’t help but feel sad. Being at Thahaba’s house didn’t just make me happy, it also made them happy. Here they didn’t have to worry about their father’s unpredictable behaviour; however I knew we would have to go back home tomorrow.
I could hear Thahaba and Anwar talking in the other room about us, she didn’t sound angry with the fact that Anwar and I were in love, just concerned that nothing would ever come from our love. I for one knew she was right, but I didn’t know how to switch off my feelings towards him.
Later that night on the roof Anwar and I snuggled up to each other, he cupped my face in his hands and kissed my injured nose. “I can’t understand how any man could do this to someone they love?” His voice was full of pain and despair.
“Ziad’s never once told me he loves me so maybe he doesn’t?” I sighed.
“How could he not love you? You’re funny, kind, caring, and you have given him these beautiful children, what else could he want in a wife?” he asked.
I looked at him and pulled a sad face. “Oh thanks!” I joked, “You left out beautiful!”
He pulled me closer to him squeezing me gently. “You are very beautiful and you know it! But I have to be truthful and say you’re not the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen!” He chuckled when I elbowed him playfully. “But you have beauty inside and out, and that is something I have never seen before, it’s also why I love you!” he told me, kissing my forehead lovingly.
His demeanour changed as he carried on. “I know you don’t want to be with him so why don’t you leave him?” he sighed. I knew Anwar was right.
I told him I didn’t want to be with Ziad, and maybe I could have walked away from him, but where would I go, and to what cost?
If I had a family that loved me and cared for me then they would have helped me by now and provided a safe haven for me and my children, however I didn’t have that. Every time I went to my father for help he hurt me and my children. My father had told me point blank that to stay with him, I would have to give my children back to Ziad’s family so that I could remarry; he would never accept me with my children. I had nowhere else to go, and I would never leave my children alone.
I told Anwar about my past, how I’d come from England, and about the loved ones we had lost, what my father had done to our family. Anwar listened, and although he wasn’t happy about me staying with Ziad he said he felt he understood why.
He told me a bit about his family, and how although they were religious and followed certain cultural beliefs, he and his family grew up with no pressure into getting married. Salwa, his younger sister from his mother’s side, was an airline stewardess in Sanaa and under no pressure to marry, even though she was in her early 20s. He told me how he would always support Thahaba so that she could look after her son, and never have to remarry unless she wanted to. He said that Thahaba had promised to keep our secret, and that I should never worry because she was a person who always kept to her word, we could trust her.
Though we didn’t talk about it we both knew that there was never a possibility of us being together, both religious and cultural beliefs in Yemen would never permit us making a life with each other. That night we snuggled up and counted the stars until they disappeared in the sunlight, realising that every single moment we had together was precious.
When I went into labour Ziad was away in Sanaa. I’d been in labour for two days and two nights, it was slow and painful, and I was drained. Although I had Umie Ayesha and Thahaba by my side I wanted to be with my sister.
I’d never been able to be with Yas at any of my births and this was a one-off chance for me, so on the third morning I sent word to Yas and she sent me a car! Yas was in Rada’a, a 15 minute drive from our village, and when I got there it was mid-morning and her house was in chaos. Abdul had just told her that on top of her usual 30/40 odd soldiers she always cooked for on a daily basis, he was expecting around 50 more coming from out of town. This was a regular thing that happened for Yas, she would usually get a few hours’ notice to cook for an army of soldiers without any help, and it was taking its toll on her. My contractions were slow and far apart so I went straight into the kitchen to help cook dinner.
My task was to make the cement with pans the size of actual cement mixers full of boiling hot water, and wooden spoons so big I could hardly grip them. I did my best to mix the flour and boiling water together into a smooth doughy paste-like mixture, transferring pot after pot to the floor and sitting down so that I could press my legs against it while mixing, and at the same time screaming when my contractions came along! With Yas busy running around sorting out everything else she left me alone to get on with whatever I wanted to do, so I filled pan after pan and carried on mixing the cement, not realising I’d made enough to feed the actual entire army!
When dinner was over, and with the help from a local neighbour, I gave birth to my beautiful, healthy fifth child. I had another son, who his father insisted on naming.
Nasser Ziad was born on 12th February, 1988.
At the time I couldn’t understand why Ziad was so insistent on naming our son after his father, especially since his father had disowned him and we hadn’t spoken to Nasser Ziad since coming back from Africa.
Nasser Ziad would often send his sister, Umie Ayesha, to ask me if I would allow Tarek to go and visit him in Sanaa, but I would always refuse. I had a bad feeling about him. When Nasser Ziad came to the village he would only ask to see Tarek, and in my opinion that was wrong and cruel of him, because I had four other children who were also his grandchildren.
I could understand that Tarek was favoured because he was the first born son, but Nasser Ziad had shown no interest in my other children and I couldn’t understand why; they were all his grandchildren, and he needed to show them all affection, not just the one!
Umie Ayesha told me that Nasser Ziad wanted me to give him my son so that he could send him abroad to boarding school; again I refused, maybe my son would get a better education abroad but he would also be away from us, his family. If I allowed him to go and be brought up by his grandfather he would most probably grow up like all the other men in his family: mean, cruel and violent! That was something I could never allow to happen!
I thought Ziad was trying to get back into his father’s good books by naming his son after his father, but in reality that was never going to happen; Ziad was driving his father and his family further and further away with his behaviour. He was still taking our food and selling it, still beating me, sometimes also succeeding in taking away from me the money my sister gave me.
It wasn’t long after I gave birth to Nasser that Ziad’s temper showed just how volatile and dangerous he could be, and how lucky my children and I had been up until then to still be alive.
It was mid-morning and Ziad had gone down into the village to buy some ghat; it was a rare occasion when Tarek and Issy had gone with him. When they came back the children told me that their father had been arguing with a man and then he hit the man. They told me the man then fell to the floor and didn’t get back up. Ziad laughed when I asked him about it, saying it was all the other man’s fault, dismissing the notion he had done anything wrong!
Later that afternoon after Ziad had gone out, Umie Ayesha came around, she was deeply concerned telling me that the man Ziad had punched was now in hospital, and in a very bad way. They had argued because Ziad owed him money, and when the man told Ziad to hand over his watch as pay
ment for the money Ziad punched him in his head, and the man fell, hitting his head.
Three days later the man died from his injuries, and though I knew there would be consequences, Ziad didn’t care!
The night the man died, when I dared to bring up the issue with him he turned on me, reminding me never to ask him, or question him about anything that he did. Knowing that there would be backlash from the village Ziad woke up and left for Sanaa the next morning, leaving me to face everyone.
Too worried to leave the house to face the villagers I kept Tarek from school and the children inside, and when Thahaba came to visit me the same day she found me black and blue from the night before. She tried to convince me to go and stay with her but I refused; I’d already started to pack my things. I told her I was leaving to go to my father, maybe now seeing what Ziad had done he would offer us help.
I wrote a letter and asked her to pass it on to Anwar, although I wanted to see him I couldn’t bear for him to see me battered and bruised once again. That day I left for Dad’s house, hoping that this time my father would welcome my children and me into his home, and offer us refuge.
Chapter Nineteen
The Evil Stepmother
Dad wasn’t happy when I arrived; although he took us in, he made it clear that if Ziad came back for me he wouldn’t hesitate to send me back! Once again he told me that if Ziad didn’t want me anymore but wanted his children, that he could have them, and I would have to remarry.
All I could do was pray that Ziad wouldn’t turn up at all! A few weeks later, to my surprise, Thahaba turned up at Dad’s house. I was over the moon to see her and even happier that she had brought me a letter from Anwar. She said he had become really upset after I left and couldn’t carry on working; therefore he had given up his job and left the school, but was now working in Rada’a at the hospital as an accountant and wanted me to try to go and see him. I told her there was no way I could go to hospital unless I was at death’s door; even then it was doubtful that I would get taken. It wasn’t as if anyone cared enough about me, or my children, to seek us treatment if we became ill.
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