The Pearl that Broke Its Shell

by Nadia Hashimi

  “Oh, she’s going to be your assistant! What’s your name?”

  “Rahima,” I said. “I am pleased to meet you.”

  “And we’re pleased to meet you as well,” Sufia said, looking impressed with my manners. “I think it’s a great idea for you to come see what the parliament does. Maybe you would want to join your . . . er . . . Badriya-jan and take a seat in the jirga. We need women to get involved in our government.”

  Badriya nodded but looked uncomfortable.

  “Why don’t you both come to the resource center tonight? After the session is over.”

  Badriya shook her head. “No, we can’t make it. Some other time.”

  “Why not, Badriya-jan? They have some instructors there who have helped us very much. Tonight we’re going to work on the computers. It’s not easy. You really have to spend some time to figure those machines out. It would be good to get familiar with it.”

  “I know that. I’ve seen computers. It’s not that hard,” she said, her eyes shifting nervously.

  The look on my face confirmed for Hamida and Sufia that Badriya was not in the least familiar with computers. Hamida decided to ignore the obvious lie.

  “What else do they teach there?” I asked. I had been away from school for so long. The idea of instructors and lessons excited a part of me that Abdul Khaliq’s compound had buried.

  “They teach lots of things,” Sufia said, happy to hear my curiosity. “How to speak English, how to do research, how the parliament is supposed to function . . .”

  “It’s a school? Can anyone go?”

  Hamida nodded. “You could come, as her assistant. It’s only for women parliamentarians. It’s run by a foreign organization and it’s open after the sessions end for the day. Maybe you can convince Badriya-jan to come along. There are too many people doing nothing in this building. We all need to do something more.”

  “Excuse us, ladies. I want to show Rahima-jan around the building and then we’re going to get to our seats,” Badriya said, her fingers wrapped around my elbow firmly. She wanted out of this conversation.

  I followed her lead but my heart lightened at the talk of classes. I was starting to taste the possibility of change here.

  CHAPTER 40

  SHEKIB

  SHEKIB STOOD FROZEN.

  “Don’t just stand there! She needs the doctor. Go and get Khanum Behrowen!” Halima threw her hands up in frustration. Shekib nodded and turned around but stopped short, realizing she had no way of summoning the doctor without walking right into the palace in the middle of the night. She turned back to the guards’ quarters.

  “Ghafoor! Ghafoor, wake up. We need to get the doctor for Fatima. She’s ill and needs help.”

  Ghafoor, the consummate guard, bolted upright and answered the call to take charge.

  “She’s ill? Worse than before?”

  “I suppose so. I haven’t seen her.”

  “What? You haven’t even gone in to check on her? What were you . . . never mind! Karim, get up. Go and see how Fatima is doing. Take Qasim with you. I’ll go to the palace and ask for the doctor.”

  “What should I do?” Shekib asked.

  “Nothing. You can do that much, can’t you?” Ghafoor said with annoyance. She brushed past her and went to pull on her uniform quickly. She fastened her belt brusquely before shooting Shekib one last glare.

  People from the palace will be awakened. I should resume my duties, she thought, and returned to her post outside the harem. Karim and Qasim soon walked past her and entered the harem. Tariq, hating to be alone, followed after them, her arms folded against her chest in the cool night air. She half smiled through tight lips as she passed Shekib.

  Shekib tapped her foot. She could see the way they looked at her, the distance. The same look Khanum Marjan had given her—some pity, but no friendship.

  I am on my own, Shekib thought. Nothing has changed. She began to pace in front of the harem, walking around to the side entrance and making sure she looked like she was actively guarding the building.

  Ghafoor and Dr. Behrowen emerged from the darkness. Ghafoor carried a lantern and Khanum Behrowen a black bag, their pace hurried. Two men followed behind them, sent to observe and bring word back to the palace. Shekib turned to walk back to the front entrance when she heard a door open. Before she could turn, she had been pushed aside, just roughly enough to make her stumble. She braced her fall with her hands and knees and looked up to see the man’s back as he darted off.

  She started to call out after him and then caught herself. She looked over at Ghafoor and the approaching team from the palace. They hadn’t seen the man knock her down, nor did they see him disappear behind the shrubs. She kept her mouth shut and scrambled to get back to her feet. She wanted to meet them by the front entrance.

  “The others are inside with Khanum Fatima,” Shekib announced as they approached. “I am standing guard here.” She made sure to be loud enough for the men to hear. They stood back, rubbing their hands together and speaking quietly as they watched the women enter the harem. “Should I come in with you?”

  Ghafoor did not pause. “Do whatever you wish,” she called out from the foyer.

  Shekib followed them in. The hallways were lit with multiple lanterns. They followed the sounds to Fatima’s chamber. It was a small room toward the back of the house. Nabila and a few others stood in the narrow hallway, shaking their heads and muttering to each other. Inside the crowded room, Shekib could see a circle of women. Sakina sat behind Fatima, holding her head up on her lap. Fatima’s face looked wan, even in the amber glow of the lanterns.

  Dr. Behrowen knelt at Fatima’s side and opened her bag. She laid a hand on her forehead and called out for some wet cloths in rudimentary Dari. Halima rushed past Ghafoor to bring them. The doctor picked up Fatima’s wrist and placed two fingers on it, her forehead tightened and her lips pursed. She took out her stethoscope and bent over Fatima with her head turned to the side, listening carefully. The chatter in the room had grown louder with the doctor’s arrival. She finally lifted her head up and pointed an angry finger toward the door.

  “Hush! Step outside if you wish to chat!” Though they did not understand English, the room was immediately silent.

  Beads of sweat lined Fatima’s brow, like soldiers preparing for battle. She moaned softly and turned her head to the side. Her son began to whimper and pulled at her sleeve. Benazir picked him up and whispered something into his ear that quieted him, his bottom lip still curled out.

  “She is feverish. I want to bring her to a cool bath. Ladies! Help her to the bath area!”

  The women looked at Dr. Behrowen, puzzled by her instruction. Dr. Behrowen had learned a few words of Dari over time but most of her communication with the harem was through gesture. Sighing with frustration, she motioned for Sakina and Nabila to lift Fatima and then pointed at the doorway. They nodded and Karim and Qasim jumped in to help. Grabbing limp arms and legs, they carried Fatima into the hallway. Dr. Behrowen pointed toward the bath area.

  “Aab, aab!” she called out.

  “She wants us to go to the baths!” Qasim called out. They hurried down the hallway. Khanum Behrowen pointed at a shallow bath and instructed the women to place Fatima in the water.

  “We have got to bring her temperature down,” the doctor muttered to herself. “She is burning up.”

  Fatima reacted to the water, but Qasim held on, her hands under Fatima’s armpits to keep her head above water. She looked more awake, more alert, turning her face to Khanum Behrowen.

  “I feel so weak, doctor,” she said.

  Dr. Brown nodded. That much was already clear to her.

  “What’s going on in there?” It was a man’s voice echoing from the front entrance. The women jolted at the sound. Ghafoor looked up at Shekib.

  “Go and tell them she has a fever and that Dr. Behrowen is bringing it down. Go!”

  Shekib nodded and hurried to the front door. The two men were pacing just outsid
e the entrance. They were growing impatient.

  “She has a fever. She is in the bath now to bring it down. She is weak.”

  “Is she going to be all right?”

  “I don’t know much more than this. Dr. Behrowen will have to tell you.”

  They huffed, dissatisfied with the answer but helpless to find out more for themselves.

  Shekib returned to the baths. They had pulled Fatima out of the water.

  “Let’s have her lie down!” Dr. Behrowen pointed at the nearest door, just a few feet down the hallway. It was Benafsha’s room. The door was closed.

  “Khanum Benafsha, open the door please!” Ghafoor called out. She knocked a second time, louder, when there was no answer. “Khanum Benafsha!”

  “Please, I am sleeping!” she called back. The women looked at one another in surprise.

  “Khanum Benafsha, please, this is an emergency. Khanum Fatima is—”

  “Oh, may God have mercy. Just open the door!” Sakina said angrily, and pushed the door open into Benafsha’s chambers. Benafsha’s mouth opened in surprise to see them lay a pale-faced Fatima on her floor. Benafsha’s face was flushed and she had pulled a robe around her nightgown. Someone had thought enough to bring dry cloths and a dry gown for Fatima. They began to strip her wet clothes when Sakina looked over at Benafsha.

  “What is the matter with you? You can hear us, can’t you? She’s not well!”

  Benafsha bit her bottom lip and rubbed her eye. “I was sleeping. I didn’t hear anything.”

  “You must sleep well if you—” Sakina paused. “What is that?”

  A dozen eyes followed her finger.

  On the floor of the room, behind the door, was a gray lamb’s-wool hat. A man’s hat.

  Benafsha’s mouth gaped. Her face grew as pale as Fatima’s.

  “This is a man’s hat!”

  She was speechless. The women looked at each other, slowly realizing the implications. Benafsha tried to recover.

  “It is his, it belongs to our dear Habibullah . . . come on, Sakina, what are you trying to . . .”

  “It’s you, isn’t it? The guards have all been asking about strange noises, any odd events! It’s you they’ve been asking about! Where’s Ghafoor? Where’s Karim? Here!” Sakina stormed to the door, picked up the hat and waved it wildly in the air. “Is this what you’ve been looking for? Benafsha dares to have a lover!”

  “Sakina, you tramp! Watch what you say or you’ll regret it! I don’t have to answer to you! You of all people with your . . . your . . .” Her eyes searched the room for an ally. Unfortunately, in her time in the harem, Benafsha’s haughty attitude had made her no real friends. She looked at Tariq, her eyes pleading. Tariq looked away, her face conflicted.

  Benafsha’s attempts to retaliate failed. Her eyes welled with tears and her tongue floundered as she looked at a room of hostile stares. Only Dr. Behrowen’s attentions stayed on Fatima, who had been stirred both by the cool bath and now by the fresh scandal. She had propped herself up on her elbows, her bleary eyes looking around with the others.

  Sakina could hear the panic in Benafsha’s voice. She pounced.

  “Well, if it is Habibullah’s hat, then we can just take it to him and ask him to confirm it. That’s easy enough,” she said sweetly. She pushed the hat into Benafsha’s face and then tossed it to Ghafoor. Ghafoor looked at the gray hat with almost as much trepidation as Benafsha. Her mind scrambled, knowing nothing good came from bringing bad news to the palace.

  Benafsha was crazed.

  “Sakina, sisters,” she cried, looking around the room. “You can’t possibly think . . . please, don’t say such things about me to Habibullah! He will think things . . . he will . . . please! I have never been unkind to any of you! Please just stop and think before you act on such wild ideas!”

  “Wild? Look who talks of wild!”

  “Khanum-ha, please! Hush!” Dr. Behrowen grew frustrated with the storm of tears and screaming. Her patient still needed attention. “I don’t know what you women are arguing about but surely it can wait,” she muttered.

  “Sakina, let’s consider this a moment,” Halima said, her voice feigning calm. “Let’s just stop for now and focus on Fatima-jan. We will address this later. Let’s see what Khanum Behrowen needs for the moment.”

  Shekib watched but her ears tuned out the talking. She saw nervous glances, hot whispers, tongues clucking. There was pacing, head shaking and hot tea. Children walked in and were sent back out. Benafsha’s green eyes blurred behind tears. She pitied herself. She hated Sakina.

  Shekib noticed something the others had not. A single red rose petal on the floor, trampled under the many slippers of the king’s concubines.

  Shekib knew exactly whom Benafsha had welcomed into her bed.

  CHAPTER 41

  SHEKIB

  FATIMA’S CONDITION IMPROVED. BENAFSHA’S WORSENED.

  The harem was tense. Periodic updates were sent to the men outside. Nothing had been said yet about Benafsha, but it was just a matter of time. A matter of hours. Some of the more sensitive women had regressed into their own chambers, knowing the palace, the king, would not take Benafsha’s transgressions lightly. She had made a fatal mistake and they could do nothing for her.

  No one wanted to break the news to the palace, fearing they would strike broadly at anyone remotely involved.

  “Have mercy, please. Have mercy,” Benafsha whimpered in the corner. She was on her knees, her head touching the ground in supplication.

  The guards and a few of the concubines had gathered outside her room. Fatima had been returned to her own chambers, Dr. Behrowen still at her side.

  “It should be one of the guards,” Sakina decided. “You are the ones responsible for the happenings of the harem. It is your duty to report back to the palace what happens here.”

  “What if we say nothing?” Nabila suggested meekly. “I am sure she will put an end to this sinful behavior after tonight. She looks as if she’s suffered enough now.”

  “You would dare hide this from the king? And what if he comes to find out some other way? We will all be blamed!” Sakina said. “I can’t take that chance with my life.”

  A few others nodded, agreeing with Sakina’s reasoning. What if the men outside had actually heard everything? What if they were going to report everything to the king? The harem had to be forthcoming if they were to save their own hides.

  “Khanum Sakina, maybe it would go easier on the king’s ears if he were to hear it from someone he fancies. And since you were the one who made the discovery, I am sure he will reward you for sharing this with him and putting an end to such a shame,” Ghafoor said.

  She is impressive, thought Shekib. She could have Bobo Shahgul’s blood in her veins.

  “You are talking as if it is your first day in the palace. You know very well that you are the ones who report to the king’s people. We, women of the harem, are not to be involved in this discussion. I will not hide anything from my dear Habibullah but it is not my place to march up to his chambers and make such an announcement.”

  Ghafoor chewed her lip and looked at Karim. She shook her head, having nothing to add to the argument. Ghafoor grew more nervous, knowing that, as leader of the guards, she was responsible for direct communications with the palace. The onus sat heavily on her shoulders. She could be rewarded for her service or she could be struck down for bearing such devastating news. She motioned with a subtle tilt of her head for the other guards to follow her into the foyer. A quick peek outside confirmed that the two men were idling by the far end of the courtyard, their backs to the harem.

  “Karim, why don’t you and Qasim go and ask those men for a chance to speak with the king directly. It may be worse for this message to go through too many ears before reaching his.”

  “With all due respect, Ghafoor-jan,” Karim said facetiously, “since you have always been in charge of our troupe, this does not seem to be something you can delegate out like a night shift. N
either one of us would dare infringe on your responsibilities.”

  “Nor us,” Tariq said, glancing at Shekib. She, too, felt the need to pair up with someone.

  Ghafoor huffed. “Fine. Fine! Cowards. I’ll go and speak to them myself.” Her eyes betrayed her confidence. She paced the foyer for ten minutes before putting her hand on the doorknob.

  Karim had her ear to the door, trying to listen in, but the voices in the courtyard were hushed. The guards looked at each other, paced and sighed frequently. Eyes were bloodshot with fatigue and conflict. When Karim cracked the door open ten minutes later, the courtyard was empty. They had taken Ghafoor to the palace.

  An hour passed, painfully, before Ghafoor reappeared. Qasim and Karim had fallen asleep leaning against the foyer wall. Tariq sat near the door as if ready to make a quick escape. She tapped her foot nervously. Her eyelids were heavy and dark. Shekib sat against the wall opposite the sisters, her stomach uneasy. A house under stress had never boded well for her. She had no reason to believe she would emerge from this unscathed.

  Ghafoor looked about nervously and took stock of the situation.

  “How is Fatima?” she asked quietly, her eyes shifting around the room, hesitant to land on anyone in particular.

  “She’s a little better. She’s had some tea with sugar and was talking for a bit. Now she’s fallen asleep. Dr. Behrowen left a few minutes ago. You probably passed her on the way here,” Tariq said, her voice as exhausted as her eyes.

  “Good.”

  “Aren’t you going to tell us what happened?” Karim asked impatiently.

  “I spoke with the men outside and they took me back to Agha Ferooz, our king’s most trusted adviser. They did not want to disturb the king himself. I explained the situation and they are, of course, very upset. They notified the king.”

  “And? What will happen now?” Qasim asked.

  “He is angry. He wishes to speak with Shekib.”

  Shekib was not in the least surprised.

  “What is that they want to speak to me about?” Her tone was measured, even. It made Ghafoor nervous. She looked at the others while Shekib saw through her act.