Missing Soluch

by Mahmoud Dowlatabadi

  “So what do you mean?”

  “Send me money! Help me with money. I’m still a living person. I breathe; I have to eat. But you see I can’t use my arms or limbs for anything. So I have to find a way to make a living. I’m thinking of opening a grocery or a flour shop. So that one day I can order a bushel of dates, four boxes of tea, and ten mans of flour, and to have had five seers of bread to eat before that. You can’t start with an empty pocket! With empty pockets you can’t even raise dirt.”

  “Okay. Fine. Accepted. I promise. I’ll send you some. I’m not one to avoid working. I’ll work. And I’ll send you something when I have it. What else?”

  “Nothing. Nothing, really. When you do see my father, if you really want me to think kindly of you, have him send a letter bequeathing me these four walls here. I’m not in a position to have to confront Ali Genav tomorrow if he starts demanding part of it from me. It’s clear as day to me. It’s as if I’ve read it in the palm of my hand: in a short while, Ali Genav will come around here demanding his wife’s share in this property. And if he wants it, he’ll get it! I’m just a bag of bones. How am I to stand up in front of him? He’ll come and put a line in the yard, take the house for himself, and put me in the stable! What’ll I be able to do?”

  “You’re right. He’s capable of doing anything you can imagine. Fine, I’ll somehow obtain a letter for you and will send it. What else?”

  “Nothing. That’s all. I do want one piece from the copper that you’ve hidden. I’m only human. I want a bowl to drink water in.”

  “Fine! That large bowl that we use in the house, I’ll leave for you. What else?”

  “Nothing, nothing, nothing!”

  “Good! So why don’t you get up and come into the house? Why are you staying out here by the oven?”

  “Don’t worry! I’ll come in; once you’re gone, I’ll move my things into the house.”

  Mergan took the teacup and said, “Do you want me to pour you another one?”

  “I wouldn’t mind it if there’s some left. My mouth is dry.”

  By the time Mergan had gone to fetch the second cup, Abbas lost himself in a reverie. He was leaning his head against the wall and had a cigarette hanging from his lips with his eyes shut.

  The dusk was so pleasant!

  A voice rose from the alley: “They can go to hell! We’re going. Let them gather all the ropes in the village and weave them together to see if they can get the old mare out from the well. Ha! Do you know how deep that well is?”

  “Ninety-eight lengths of a body!”

  “I still remember when Abrau’s father Soluch used to say it was more than ninety-eight lengths. It’s the main well, after all! No joking!”

  Molla Aman, Abrau, and Morad turned from the wall. Abbas opened his eyes to look at them. The men were speaking among themselves with excitement. Molla Aman and Morad didn’t let each other complete a sentence, and each would cut the other off by talking about what they had seen and what they had thought about it. Abrau was caught in the middle, lost for words, watching their mouths as they spoke. From the graveyard to here, he’d slowly pieced together that matters concerning the canals had descended into a quarrel. He’d seen the groups of men who had returned to Zaminej anxious and worried. He’d heard that the authorities had taken Zabihollah and the Sardar to town. But despite this, his mind wanted more new information, and this was not to be found in the banter that continued between Molla Aman and Morad.

  Molla Aman took a cup of tea from his sister’s hand and gulped it down in one go, saying, “Ruined. Everything’s ruined. Fallen apart. The death of everything … My poor donkey’s dying from thirst and hunger in his stable! What a hell!”

  Morad said, “I think that many of these people who were living off a goat’s sip worth of water from the canal system will now have no choice but to leave!”

  Molla Aman handed back the teacup and said, “If they don’t now, they’ll have to eventually. The heaven or hell we’re left with will be on their hands!”

  Abbas raised his head from his place by the oven. Abrau sat beside it and Morad went over to the water jug.

  Abrau said, “You think things will be improved if they change the place of the water pump?”

  Molla Aman laughed and said, “Maybe!”

  Morad said, “Don’t be so naïve! Where is Mirza Hassan to come in and roll up his sleeves and try to set things right? Do you know how much it would cost to move the pump? Ha! It’s not just a waterwheel that you can pick up and set on a donkey to take it somewhere else! It’s a thousand mans of iron! Maybe more! Who has the expertise to do that? They’d want to be paid the price of their father’s blood. Not just anyone knows how to do this. You’d have to go out to Gorgon or the capitol itself and lure a couple of experts out here with a pile of bills. Do you think they weren’t paid a pretty penny to set it up in the first place? And how quickly they came out and shut it down! But what about Zabihollah!”

  Molla Aman, using the same mocking tone he’d been using all day, said, “The best thing to come from this was that! I loved it!”

  “The Sardar really has a way with the stick, no?”

  “I doubt Zabihollah will be walking anytime soon!”

  “I really doubt it.”

  “They can go to hell!”

  Ali Genav’s voice rose from the alley.

  “Hey! Don’t you want to come and help get the camel out of the well?”

  His head appeared at the edge of the wall and stayed there.

  Molla Aman said, “Help for what? You think I’m eating bread for free to go and put myself to work like that? That same Karbalai Doshanbeh who’s locked himself into the pump house has taken my donkey and is starving it to death! He’s made me wretched! So I’m supposed to go and help open his son’s canal system! Whoever has land needs that water. Whoever needs that water can go and do the work. Why am I supposed to go and kill myself to pull that camel from the well? If I’m injured, who’s going to pay for my stay in the hospital?”

  “What about you, Morad?”

  “I’m busy. I have to go and get my things ready to leave. We’re leaving.”

  “And you, Abrau? They have the ropes all ready. Everyone’s going.”

  Abrau said, “I’ve done plenty for them! No more! They can go to hell!”

  As Ali Genav turned away, Mergan ran out following him.

  “Wait a minute. Wait. Let me come with you. After all, a body’s a body.”

  Morad looked at Molla Aman. Abrau looked down at the ground.

  Molla Aman said, “It’s not in her hands. She has no self-control, this woman. She’s a fool!”

  4.

  In the end they failed. They failed to pull the camel from the well. They motivated themselves, used all their strength, but still they failed. All of the village’s ropes were brought to the task, and the experienced well-diggers of Dehbid went down into the well with them. They passed the rope beneath the camel’s body, wrapped it around its neck and legs, and then pulled themselves up the rope like snakes. They shook the dust from their bodies and clothes and said, “Go on! Pull!”

  The rope had eight ends; the rope made of all the ropes of Zaminej village had ended up with eight ends. Ten men took a hold of each of the eight strands—eighty men’s strength all together!

  “One, two, three—God’s help!”

  The camel’s body rose from the mud and earth in the well.

  Eighty men, together! The camel’s body began to ascend the earthen wall of the well.

  “Wrap the ropes around your waist. Ha … go! It’s coming up!”

  “It’s stuck! It’s stuck! Wait a minute! Hold yourselves. Plant your feet into the dirt.”

  The men held on with the ropes wrapped around their waists, digging their feet into the earth. Their bodies leaned back; their feet were set forward. They were like narrow trees bending in wind. The two master well diggers were standing at the edge of the well and were looking over the edge into the well.


  The rope was also twisted around Mergan’s body.

  “Its neck is caught against a pole in the well. Right in the middle of the rod!”

  “What shall we do? What can we do? Our hands and waists are being cut through!”

  “We have no choice! Pull. We have to keep pulling. We can break its neck and then bring it out. Pull!”

  “Pull! With God’s help!”

  They pulled with all of the strength they could conjure from their bodies. But the animal was still stuck.

  “Pull!”

  “No! Don’t pull!”

  Two of the rope strands went slack and tore. Two of the groups fell back onto each other. The body slipped down and six groups of men were pulled forward with their strands of rope.

  The well diggers shouted.

  “Slowly, slowly, pull on the ropes! Slowly!”

  “Slowly, now let the ropes go loose! Slowly!”

  The body suddenly tumbled back down as the wall of the well collapsed onto itself, and six strands of rope, like six dragons, leaped into the mouth of the well.

  “Oh no! Worse! The spring in the well will be blocked by all the dirt!”

  A billow of dust rose from the mouth of the well.

  “Oh no! Much worse!”

  Covered in dust and sweat, the men stood there.

  “Now what do we do?”

  The well-diggers sat down.

  “We need tools, implements. And better rope.”

  “Ah! I have an idea!”

  “Okay. What is it? Tell us!”

  “Let’s cut the animal into pieces and bring them up one at a time!”

  “That’s a great idea, Khodadad. You always know what to do, old shepherd!”

  “Let’s get to work! Who thinks they’re up to it?”

  The shepherd and the well-digger volunteered.

  “Bring the well wheel! Sharpen your dagger, Khodadad!”

  “Who’s going to explain this to the Sardar!”

  “I’ll do it!”

  “We’ll all do it!”

  “All that’s left for him is the price of its hide!”

  They brought the well wheel to lower down the men. Khodadad the shepherd and Mohammad Kazem the well digger took off their boots. Khodadad thrust his dagger into his waistband and went toward Salar Abdullah and the Kadkhoda.

  “I’m taking my life in my own hands by going to the bottom of this well! I’m expecting to be paid. One hundred tomans!”

  It was no longer necessary to have everyone there at once. Those who had a role to play and those who had a share in the waters of the canals stayed. The others began wandering back to Zaminej.

  But no, they failed to pull the camel from the well whole. Ali Genav went to collect the grazing camels for his cousin the Sardar. Mergan was also worried by the thought that the camels would be lost.

  “It’s a shame, those camels! They shouldn’t be lost in this way!”

  * * *

  The moon had risen by the time Mergan returned home.

  Only Abbas was still awake. He was sitting and looking up into the night. The others, Molla Aman and Abrau, each had put something under his head and fallen asleep.

  Mergan was exhausted, so she should have gone to sleep as well. But how could sleep come to Mergan’s worried eyes? Without sitting down, she began to pack whatever possessions she had. Possessions … one might just say a few shirts and a pair of leggings and a shroud.

  Those people who have roots in the old ways generally accept that at the first opportunity, whenever there’s enough to feed oneself for a bit, one should then think of obtaining a death shroud. A couple of lengths of cloth; it’s not expensive to procure one. And once in her life, Mergan had found herself with such an opportunity. A shroud, the only piece of clothing that a person will wear only once. She packed the shroud separately in a trunk, setting it aside. She also wrapped some bread, sugar, and tea in a separate package. She collected some bits and pieces to leave for Abbas and put the trunk with the shroud on top of them. Then she went over to the bag of flour; there was less than one man of flour left. She also put that beside the bits and pieces for Abbas. Only one thing remained, one task she still had to do. She looked at her brother and her son. They were both asleep. She tiptoed outside. Abbas was still awake, and the light of his cigarette shone in the darkness. Ignoring him, she went into the alley.

  In the late-night alleys of Zaminej, it’s impossible to even see a bat flying. The darkness can be deep, the silence profound. But the uneven ground was familiar to Mergan’s bare feet. Walking from alley to alley, from hovel to hovel, she quickly reached the outskirts of the village. The fields and the night filled her lungs, both immense and yet compressed. She paused. Not from fear, but from doubt. She turned and walked back toward the village and went straight to Sanam’s house. The door was shut and everyone was asleep. She knocked on the door. Morad, sleepy and confused, opened the door.

  “Eh? What’s happened, Auntie Mergan?”

  “Bring your shovel and bag and come with me. I’ll explain.”

  He took his shovel and bag from the edge of the wall and latched the door behind himself quietly. The two were in the alley together. Mergan walked in silence, and Morad couldn’t bring himself to ask about what they were doing. He walked behind her quietly as she traversed the various winding alleys to the outskirts of the village. She stopped there and turned to face Morad, who stood beside her. She asked, “You’re still coming along with us?”

  “I told you myself! I’m coming. Why would you think otherwise? I’m not meant to stay here. So what if I leave a month earlier than I’d planned? I was going to go in one direction; now I’m going in another! What difference does it make?”

  “Good, okay … Now listen up, then! I’ve buried something out here somewhere, and I have to dig it out. Just follow me!”

  Mergan walked ahead.

  “I would trust Abrau as well, but I’d be afraid if someone else caught wind of it. But I feel I can rely on you. I think of you as one of my own sons. Come this way!”

  Morad walked through the empty field behind Mergan. He asked, “How are you going to find anything in this darkness?”

  “I’ll find it. I’ll find it. Just come! I just hid my possessions from these thieves. But I’ll find it. Come this way.”

  Mergan suddenly turned around.

  “No one noticed us, did they?”

  Morad said, “At this time of night, everyone’s asleep dreaming of kings and princes. Who has the heart to go out walking around in the darkness?!”

  Mergan froze in her place.

  “This is it! It must be right here! Start digging here. I’m sure it must be here.”

  Morad brought the shovel down from his shoulder and busied himself with digging the dirt. Mergan knelt on the ground and dug with her hands as well. But it was in vain. Mergan had chosen the wrong spot.

  Morad asked, “Are you certain this is the right place?”

  “I’m sure; I’m certain. I did the calculations.”

  “Let’s take a minute so you can remember. What was the marker of the spot?”

  “A rock! A large rock. I’m sure, I remember. It was a large rock!”

  “But there was no rock here!”

  “I don’t know. Maybe I’m losing my mind!”

  Mergan sat up and grasped at her knees with her hands, like a mother wolf who’s gone to give birth in the desert night.

  What if she couldn’t find what she’d buried?

  She rose and took Morad’s hands in her own and said plaintively, “Morad my dear, you have to find it! Find it for me … My heart will break if you don’t! Morad dear, please!”

  “Yes, okay. But first, calm down. Just sit here. Tell me, how did you measure where it’s supposed to be?”

  “It’s a straight shot from the wall of the Sardar’s home. I took a thousand and nine steps from the edge of his wall to the big rock. I dug a hole next to it, and when I was done I pulled the ro
ck over it to cover it.”

  “Fine, just stay here and don’t move. I’ll go back over to the Sardar’s wall and will count the steps. You won’t be afraid here, will you?”

  “No! Go on. Just please find it. Those few bits of copper were going to pay for our travel costs. I only have you to help me!”

  Morad went back and Mergan watched as he faded into the darkness. Then she was all alone, alone with the night.

  Who could have dug up the earth and taken Mergan’s things? Other than Hajer, who knew about what she had done? No one. But could her innocent daughter have come and dug them out from where they’d been buried? Could Ali Genav have made her do it? That’s all she needed! But Mergan didn’t believe it. No, Hajer couldn’t have done it.

  Or could she have? No. She couldn’t imagine it.

  “I think I found it, Auntie Mergan! I found it! Come here!”

  “Where are you, my son! Where are you?”

  “Here. Can’t you follow my voice?”

  “I hear your voice but I can’t see you. I can’t see!”

  “Just follow my voice. This way!”

  “Oh God! I’m so lost! Help me, God!”

  “Come this way. Why are you going in the wrong direction?”

  “Which way?”

  “Stop! You can’t seem to get your bearings. I’ll just dig them up and bring them to you.”

  “Should I just stand here?”

  “Stay where you are!”

  Mergan and the boy were in the night fields, apart from one another. Mergan was standing in her place like a bush or a tree, shaking. She was excited, worried, frightened. The sound of digging stopped and the field was again filled with silence. Mergan held her breath.

  Had Morad taken what she’d buried and left?

  God damn you. Why are you so suspicious?

  Mergan bit at her lip with her teeth. Morad emerged from the darkness. He planted the shovel in the earth and took his bag from his shoulder. Mergan peered into the bag and in the night’s darkness began to feel the copper plates with her fingers. They were all there! Her copper! She calmed down, then rose with a prayer, “May your youth be blessed, my boy! May my dust give you life. Let’s go. You want me to carry the bag?”