* * *
In the morning, before the dawn, Mergan rose from her place and woke her daughter. Hajer sat up and rubbed her eyes, still tired and short of sleep. She felt heavy, and she couldn’t keep her head up. She fell back and lay her head on the pillow. It felt as if her head was full of lead. Mergan returned to the room after washing up. Abrau sat up straight and looked around anxiously. He suddenly leapt up and ran to the door. The sky was already light outside. He turned back to his mother and asked, “Did you hear anything?”
“Hear what?”
“The sound of the tractor!”
“No.”
Abrau relaxed a little. He went out, splashed water on his face, and returned. He took some bread, thrust it into his pocket, and rushed out the door. Mergan dried her hands and face and went back over to Hajer.
“Get up then! Your fiancé is about to come. He can’t find you lying there like a corpse! Rise and splash some water on yourself! Get up!”
Hajer wanted to get up, but on spring mornings, sleep tends to weigh heavily on children of her age, holding them under its heavy wings. Mergan grabbed her daughter’s underarms and dragged her outside, sitting her beside the well to wash her face and hands. Only then did Hajer begin to shake off the sleep. She sat against the wall while Mergan wiped her face with the edge of her shirt. Then she left to find her old wedding dress for Hajer to wear—a crumpled and creased red cotton shirt with a blue floral design, and a silk headscarf pocked with moth holes. Putting the shirt on Hajer, it was clearly too large for her; its edges dragged on the ground. The edges of the shoulders of the shirt fell on Hajer’s arms, and her tiny hands were lost in its sleeves. The bosom of the shirt was empty, as Hajer’s had not developed as yet. At best, her breasts were each the size of a walnut.
No matter! An oversized shirt is nothing to worry over …
Mergan found a needle and thread and brought in the wide neck of the shirt. Now she had to do something for the sleeves. The solution was to pull up the material on the upper sleeves and to fold it over and sew it, which she did. The shirt nearly fit now, but she also placed a pin at the neck of the shirt to hide Hajer’s bony chest underneath. She felt it looked acceptable. But if she’d thought of it before and had done something to bring in the waist of the shirt a little, it might have been better. But it was too late now. She took the headscarf and placed it on Hajer’s head. Folded over once, it was difficult to notice the moth holes in the material. Good … and here’s a pin under the chin for the scarf. Let the extra material of the scarf cover her shoulders … That’s more appropriate. And the corners of the scarf can just fall upon her chest. The bangs of her hair had to fall out of the scarf and cover her forehead until her eyebrows. And each tuft of hair had to have a gentle wave in it.
“That’s good … May God let you grow old in peace and comfort!”
Mergan looked around and found Ali Genav smiling in the doorway. Hajer hid herself behind her mother. Mergan replied, “You and she can go together, God willing!”
Ali Genav said, “I hope so, God willing. Good … Fine … Now I’ll go and saddle my donkey.”
He stepped away to leave; the room again filled with sunlight.
Mergan grabbed her daughter’s elbow tightly.
“You’d better stop acting the fool right now! He’s going to be your husband. You’re not a helpless baby. You’re becoming a real woman. How am I going to get this into your thick skull?!”
Hajer said nothing. She only took a sharp breath. Mergan readjusted the scarf on her head and took her by the hand toward the door. She looked over her daughter in the sunlight. Hajer’s face was so small it looked like a china saucer. Her eyes darted to and fro. She was upset, unlike her usual self—no one was better equipped to sense this than her mother. But Mergan didn’t want to acknowledge this to herself, much less to discuss it openly.
“You look like the moon! A beautiful flower. If we had a full-length mirror so you could see yourself, you’d understand why I’m saying this. A crystal sculpture! May you be protected from the evil eye. I have to burn rue incense now. You’ll have a wonderful future. May you avoid the eye of envy! Everyone should want to have a girl your age that they are marrying at this time of year. I hope they all drop dead from jealousy! I have to go and wrap a piece of bread in the bundle.”
Hajer stayed where she was by the doorway while her mother went in, kicking Abbas’ leg on the way.
“Hey, the sun’s about to rise! Are you planning to wake up any time today? You can’t take the camels out after the sun’s already risen. You should be out in the fields by now!”
Abbas rolled over and growled. Mergan entered the pantry while Hajer leaned against the wall and looked outside. The yard was so empty. So empty! It seemed as if no one and nothing had ever entered it.
Mergan emerged from the pantry and tied a piece of bread into a measure of cloth, then shouted at Abbas.
“I’m with you, hey! The sun’s up. Get up and get going, then!”
Abbas turned his head and with an exhausted face and closed eyes screamed, “Why all this shouting? What’s it to you anyway? What do you have to do with my work? I don’t want to go to take the camels out anyway!”
Just then, the footsteps of Ali Genav’s cousin the camel-herd owner—or Sardar—echoed from over the wall and into the house.
“Hey! Abbas …! When are you planning to take the camels out, then? Noon?! The sun’s been up for a while! If you’re planning on doing this job of looking after the camels, they’d better be out and grazing before the sun shows its face!”
The giant Sardar turned the corner of the wall and entered the yard, coming toward the door with heavy steps, seemingly filling the yard with his huge weathered body. Hajer pulled herself away from the doorway. Still only half-awake, Abbas collected himself, crumpled up the bedding, smoothing out his rumpled clothes.
“Coming, Sardar. I’m coming.”
The Sardar’s wide shoulders filled the doorframe. Abbas dashed into the pantry and grabbed his knife and thrust it into his leggings, threw some bread and his water into a sack, took his walking stick, and presented himself before the Sardar. The man’s dark glare shone from beneath his thick, daggerlike eyebrows. He spit tobacco juice from the snuff beneath his tongue through his bushy moustache and beard, and said, “I just hope you didn’t wager my camels in your gambling.”
He turned away and began leaving. Abbas also left, following behind him. Hajer emerged out of a dark corner while Mergan circled around herself one more time. Then she gave a piece of bread to Hajer.
“Eat this.”
Hajer’s mouth was bone dry.
“Just try to chew it. If you don’t eat, you’ll faint before we reach town.”
Hajer put the bread in her mouth.
“Ready to go now?”
It was Ali Genav’s voice. Mergan replied, “Yes … there’s nothing left to take care of here.”
Ali Genav set his donkey’s tether on the top of the wall and stood back. Mergan took the wooden case in one hand and grabbed Hajer under the arm with the other and headed to the door. As Hajer stepped outside, she sensed Ali Genav’s breath on her cheek. He took the edges of the wedding chador in his rough fingers, so as to keep it from dragging on the ground. Mergan led the girl into the alley, while Ali Genav removed the tether from the wall and stood waiting for his bride. He had brushed his donkey, and he had thrown his only Baluchi rug over its saddle. Mergan and Hajer stood beside the animal. Ali Genav bent his left leg in front of Hajer, who was confused by this gesture. Mergan then took her under her arms and lifted her so her foot fell onto Ali Genav’s bent leg. From there, she was able to pull herself up onto the donkey. The first thing she felt was the softness of the carpet. As soon as she was settled, Ali Genav drew the donkey’s tether over his shoulder and set off.
Mergan followed behind to keep an eye on Hajer, who was grasping onto the back of the saddle with her hands, while her legs were tightly locked around the bo
dy of the animal. It was novel for a daughter of Zaminej village to ride a donkey this awkwardly. But this was due to the fact that even when Soluch had a donkey, the boys never gave Hajer a chance to ride on it.
As they passed the entrance to the narrow alley where Ali Genav’s house was located, Mergan involuntarily glanced over at the door to the house. The house’s entry was half-open, and his wife Raghiyeh was suspended in the doorway like an old tattered shirt, looking at them with her dead eyes. It was a look that shot like electricity through the very marrow of her bones. Mergan stole a look at her, and then hid behind the donkey as they walked on. She heard the crisp snap of the closing door, as if the woman had slipped to the ground sitting against the door as it closed.
Ali Genav was impatient. He thrust a hand into his pocket and brought out a handful of dried berries and walnuts and poured them into the loose edge of Hajer’s shirt. Then he tossed a few nuts into his own mouth and tugged on the donkey’s bridle.
Abbas was standing by the drain of the bathhouse and was tightening the band holding up his leggings. The Sardar was standing beside the drain a little farther down and was continuing to berate Abbas.
“A gambler’s not worth a black coin! I know people who have bet their own herd of camels while gambling!”
Abbas finished tightening his waistband, and then slid his knife into it.
“Well, they had a whole herd to gamble, Sardar. But me, what do I have to lose?”
“You? What about the pants you’re wearing? I’ve seen a gambler ante up his own ass in a game. So how much did you lose last night?”
Ali Genav was all too pleased to happen across his cousin, just to show off a little. He tugged at the donkey’s tether and approached the Sardar.
“Good morning, cousin!”
The Sardar looked over Ali Genav, his donkey, and the mother and daughter with him.
“Good. Well, well, so you’re heading out to town right now?”
“Need anything from there?”
“No, thanks. May you be blessed, and good luck.”
“Goodbye.”
Ali Genav continued on by Abbas and his cousin. Mergan stayed hidden behind her daughter, while Hajer shut her eyes as they went. But what for? Abbas didn’t even look over at them!
The four of them continued on, and Abbas and the Sardar set out. The Sardar picked up where he’d left off before.
“Eh? Well you didn’t say how much you’d lost!”
Abbas didn’t reply.
“So how much did you win, then?”
Again, Abbas didn’t reply.
“You think I don’t know what’s going on round here? Ha! Fine, I’ll stop asking you. But be careful and keep an eye on the dark male camel. He has a bit of a spring fever. That’s something to watch out for, I’ll tell you!”
The black camel he was speaking of was standing stiffly apart from the other camels that had gathered in the wide yard and under the curving vestibule leading to the gate. He was scratching his neck against the sharp edge of the wall, his lips were covered in frothy spittle, and there was a wild look in his eyes.
The Sardar drove the camels toward the vestibule and gate by waving the edge of his cloak, which he wore both in winter and summer. Abbas stood by the gate and waved the camels on with his walking stick. The Sardar followed the camels out of the vestibule and stood beside Abbas. Beneath his breath, he measured up the camels happily.
“Go on. Go, and may you be blessed!”
Abbas began to follow the camels.
“I won’t offer you any more than that, Abbas!”
“No worries, Sardar!”
Abbas said this and was lost from view in the bend of the alley.
The path was crowded. The young men who were leaving the village were sitting beside their trunks and sacks and were looking at the road ahead. They were still surrounded by their mothers and sisters, but no one was crying. Instead, the air was filled with a mix of excitement and anxiety, and both anticipation and hesitation flickered on their faces. What predominated, however, was the joking common to Zaminej’s youth. They were invariably laughing, shouting, and swearing at each other. They had special jokes they played on each other in just these sorts of gatherings. Some of them would bear the brunt of the jokes and would become upset, but their anger would quickly be subsumed in the waves of laughter sounding from those gathered around them.
Ali Genav began to lead his donkey down to the path. But soon, he was trapped in the crowd. And so it was impossible to shake off Hajj Salem and his son demanding wedding sweets from him. But Ali Genav refused to even put his hand in his pocket to placate them. So the youths found a new pretext for their high spirits. They goaded Moslem to collect his share of sweets from Ali Genav. Moslem became more and more riled up as a result. Morad had also joined in the game. But Abrau was standing to one side, where he was focused on listening and watching the road.
Ali Genav finally put a hand into his pocket and freed himself of his obligation. He tugged on the bridle of the donkey, exiting the crowd with the blessings and prayers of Hajj Salem. Now it was the turn of the young travelers to follow tradition and to give something to Hajj Salem and his son before setting off. Hajj Salem stood in the midst of the youth and began reciting a prayer for them. The travelers all became silent.
The Salar’s donkeys entered the crowd and mixed with the youth, while Abbas stood to one side. Morad approached him, and they said goodbye with an embrace. One or two of the others also came over to say goodbye. Hajj Salem was praying out loud, intoning a prayer for travelers. The mothers and sisters stood beside their sons or brothers and fought back their tears. Moslem approached Morad, who took off his hat so as to take up a collection of small change for Hajj Salem.
“Just give something, guys! Give a coin or two so we can get rid of him!”
Just then, Ghodrat arrived. The group was complete—twenty-one people. Morad started in on Ghodrat. “Do you think this is a trip to your auntie’s house? The sun’s been up forever! And you want to find work in a strange land with useless shoes like those?”
Ghodrat carried a bag over one shoulder and his father was following him, wiping his runny nose every so often.
“It’s coming. It’s coming!”
Abrau suddenly shouted and threw himself into the path.
“What’s coming?”
“The tractor!”
First, a cloud of dust was visible in the distance. Then something came into view. Then that sound, a sound entrancing to everyone. But the group was about to leave. They were all holding their sacks and satchels on their backs, and the mothers had just finished embracing their sons, the daughters standing to one side with their lips trembling.
Abrau had his hat in his hand and waved to the tractor’s driver from a distance. The tractor approached with an increasing roar. The camels started to buck with fear. Abbas raised his walking stick over his head and swearing in a continuous stream at the tractor and its driver as he tried to gather the scattering camels.
The tractor stopped beside the crowd, bringing with it a cloud of dust from along its way. As soon as those gathered extricated themselves from the dust, the young men began walking away in a line along the side of the tractor. The women gathered at a point on the path to watch their loved ones leaving. Some of the young men could be seen to be looking over their shoulders as they went, glancing back at their mothers and sisters. But as they grew distant, their eyes met less and less. The men kept walking, and the women stayed in place.
Ghodrat’s father was sitting on a rock. The tractor-driver half-glanced over at the women from beneath his lowered cap. Abrau leapt up to the tractor and put a solid foot on the running board. The driver asked about Salar Abdullah, and Abrau told him they’d need to look for him at his farmland. The driver started up the tractor once again, and on the far side of the machine, Abbas spit at the deep, dusty tracks it left behind.
* * *
The commotion settled. The women each we
nt their own way. Only Ghodrat’s father remained, sitting on the rock holding his head in his hands. Abbas turned and began walking toward the camels, which were following their habitual path to the outlying fields. Abbas was still in the middle of the settling dust, lost in his thoughts. All of his peers were leaving or had already left. Zaminej was emptying out. While they had been there, Abbas had rarely shared a feeling of camaraderie with them; indeed, usually he was at odds with most of them. But now that they had gone or were about to leave, he sensed their absence. Empty places, gaping holes, opened up in Abbas’ mind. Like anthills in soft soil, spaces cut into the dirt.
Abbas crushed an anthill with his foot and marched on. He looked again at his feet and saw grass. The open fields. Fields streaked with green glistening beneath the soft warmth of the morning sun. Wide-open lands, tended fields alongside wild lands stretching out into the distance. To reach the distant wild lands where the camels would graze, one had to carefully direct them between farmed fields. He began to gather the camels … “Hey, ho, hey!”
The wheat had just begun to sprout, a green carpet over the fields. The camels were not to enter the wheat fields, as even if they didn’t graze on it, they would crush and kill the plants beneath their hooves. The camels were still somewhat full from their morning provisions and so were not much tempted by the wheat stalks. They walked softly and calmly, free of their saddles, bridles, and gear. Camels are quick to sense this freedom, as is easy to see in their gait as they walk. Free of their saddles, they stride freely. They can choose to step lightly or heavily, in long or short steps, either trotting or walking. A camel can choose to stop in its tracks, turn its head over its shoulder, and look around; it can look anywhere and not just straight ahead. It can raise its tail and drop dung, unmuzzled and with nothing around its neck. When the camel’s tethered in a train, with one camel’s bridle tied closely to the next camel’s behind, it loses its individuality. It acts as if it’s bearing a load, even if there is none. That’s what the bridle and caravan leader tell it: don’t step out of line. Unless it is the lead camel, whose tether is handled by the caravan leader. Don’t wander. Walk, walk. The leader will lead the way …
Missing Soluch Page 24