Omar fumbled, and the milk splashed onto the white shawl draped over his shoulder, but the mug remained steady in Rhoda’s hand. Omar drank the milk. “I accept you as the warden of my house, the mother of my children, and my wife.”
I looked to see if Mother, standing behind the head table, had noticed that his acceptance was out of order. It should’ve been wife, children, home. I saw nothing.
A thunderous applause filled the air. Omar took the mug from Rhoda, placed it on the table and, eyes glued to her face, guided her to the empty chair next to him. The guests applauded so loudly that I covered my ears.
A bright smile split Mother’s face as the union she’d planned came happily together. She walked to the center stage and announced the meal. A line of servants carrying large platters appeared. They placed a plate of rice, one with vegetables, and another with lamb and goat meat on every table.
The attention that had been on Rhoda for the last twenty minutes, returned to our table. “How do you live in this small village?” Jamac asked.
I pointed at my mouth to show I couldn’t speak and gave my food undue attention.
“I’d go crazy if I had to live here. I am going to take you out of here as soon as we are married. Maybe we should move to the capital, or leave Somalia altogether. There is so much to see and do beyond the confines of this place.” Jamac scanned the space as if this was a microcosm of the whole of Bledley.
I said nothing, and that seemed to discourage Jamac. He served himself food, and we ate in silence for the next half hour. Dessert followed the main meal, and tea continued to flow until the lyrics to the opening family dance started. At the sound of the first drumbeat, I darted toward the stage.
“You hate dancing,” Elmi said, when I appeared in front of him. He was at Mother and Father’s table.
“Not as much as I hate sitting next to Jamac.”
“Be careful with the hate. You might be his wife.” Elmi laughed.
“That’s not funny.”
I didn’t like to dance and often avoided it but I was desperate. “If dancing would take me away from Jamac, I’d dance to eternity,” I told Elmi. I remained on the stage for every dance after that and didn’t leave until Mother pulled me away because it was the couple’s last dance. I didn’t even hear the announcement for everyone to leave the floor for the bride and groom. Omar and Rhoda came to the stage at the start of the gelbis—the song to mark the bride and groom’s walk to their own house and embark on their life journey. As the singer reached the last verse of the song, Omar and Rhoda left the hall hand in hand. Both families and guests followed them into the parking lot.
Once outside, Omar lifted Rhoda’s hand, kissed it, and released it. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said to her as one would when leaving a friend behind.
Mother rushed to Omar’s side. “You won’t see her tomorrow. She is coming with you—right now.”
We all watched silently from a distance.
“Not tonight. It’ll have to wait.”
Mother grabbed Omar by elbow. “Everything can wait tonight, except for your bride. It is her wedding night. No woman should be left behind on her wedding night.”
Omar pulled his arm away. “I am taking her on a month-long honeymoon tomorrow. I have business to take care of tonight.”
“On your wedding night?” Mother was incredulous, but her question made no impression on Omar. She turned to Father. “Do something! Tell him this is not how to start a home.”
Father jiggled his car keys in his hand. “I would if he didn’t have a very important issue to tend to tonight. You know I would.”
Despite Mother’s determined stance to stop him with her stare, Omar got into the car with his groomsmen and left.
Rhoda lingered a few more seconds until one of her bridesmaids opened the car door and motioned her inside. Rhoda got in, still staring after the receding taillights of Omar’s vehicle.
How Rhoda’s family was quiet in the face of such humiliation was incomprehensible. They said nothing during the exchange or after Omar disappeared into the dark night, leaving behind a broken promise. As soon as Rhoda’s car pulled away, they left. Mother, Elmi, and I went home with Father in his car.
*
Father slipped into his study as soon as we were home, leaving Mother to stew in her disappointment. Unable to do anything else, she lashed out at us in short bursts. Mother wanted Elmi and me to stay awake and keep Rhoda company while she sorted out her thoughts. But then she complained every few seconds that we were being too loud. “Is it possible for you to stay in one place for a few minutes?” She didn’t hide the sarcasm that dripped from her sentence. “An important issue? Who does business in the middle of their wedding night? I would like to know,” she vented.
After an hour or so of Mother’s rambling, Rhoda stood up. “Goodnight. I am exhausted. I’ll see you in the morning.” She went to Omar’s bedroom.
Elmi stretched his arms and yawned. “I’m off, too,” he said.
I expected Mother to send me to bed, but she didn’t. She continued to complain. “I am trying to keep this family together and being thwarted all the time.” She went on, listing her grievances well into the night.
*
Mother woke me up the next morning and sent me to Rhoda’s room. “Sit with her, while I prepare breakfast. Poor thing. How humiliated and devastated she must be feeling right now.”
I welcomed the prospect of seeing Rhoda realize how evil Omar was. If she’d refused to marry Omar, I would have been free from having to wed Jamac. I wanted to gloat and yell “I warned you,” but Rhoda was still under the covers when I entered the room.
She sat up when she saw me and took something out from under her pillow. “She will pay for this,” she said, almost speaking to herself.
“Who?” I asked.
“Who else? The gaalo whore.”
Rhoda is more upset with Sheila, than she is with Omar. “How is this Sheila’s fault?” I asked.
“It just is! All night he was looking at this.” She held a small key-chain sized picture of Sheila out to me.
I reached for it, but Rhoda closed her fingers, making the picture disappear within her hand. “Are you not angry with him?” I asked.
“I’ll not give up my husband for her! Not for a white whore.”
“But he was her husband first.”
Rhoda looked me in the eye for a few seconds. “She was waiting for him at the hotel last night,” she said.
“What?”
Mother arrived with breakfast before Rhoda had the opportunity to explain. Rhoda’s face softened. The anger and determination that inhabited it seconds ago evaporated, and were replaced by sadness. The change was quick and believable, and Mother fell for it.
“I am very sorry.” She placed the tray on the night table and hugged Rhoda. “I’ll see to it you are taken care of, my dear. I promise.” Rhoda melted into her embrace and wept.
As soon as Mother left, the real Rhoda emerged, angry and vengeful. “She doesn’t know with whom she is dealing.” Rhoda’s voice carried an unmistakable threat.
An hour later, when Omar arrived to collect Rhoda, her face transformed again. The red, venom-filled eyes twinkled as she hugged Omar. She said nothing about him walking out on her, or going to the hotel to be with Sheila. On the surface, she was the happy bride. She even asked his permission to leave the sitting room. With an innocent-looking wave, Rhoda went to her room to get ready. Only a half hour after Omar came, they left on their honeymoon.
*
The month Rhoda and Omar were away passed uneventfully. Several times, I almost asked Mother to allow me to return to school and finish grade twelve but I didn’t. I knew what she would say.
“And send you back to the Boon?”
She was right. Given the chance, I would have gone straight to him.
“You might learn to love him after the marriage,” Hawa said after she listened to me complain about my impending marriage to Jamac.
She sounded so much like Mother that I had to look up to make sure it was Hawa. “How could I learn to love him when I love someone else?” It was easy for Hawa. She was getting married to Ilyaas, the boy she loved, with her parents’ blessing.
“But how are you ever going to be with Sidow?”
“Maybe we could elope.” I put the idea that had lingered in my mind for a while now into words, and that scared me.
“Elope? You mean to go to Cagaaran and marry him without your parents’ permission?”
I had no idea how I would put such a plan into practice, but verbalizing it was a start. “Yes.”
“Idil! I wouldn’t consider it if I were you. You don’t want to make your parents angry, especially your father.” She stared at me and waited for my response.
“I won’t,” I lied. But I was turning the thought over in my mind. In fact, I shared my thoughts with Elmi that evening when he returned from school.
For the first time in weeks, Elmi came home that day without a note from Sidow. “Hasan didn’t come to school,” he explained.
“It doesn’t matter anymore. I plan to elope with him soon anyway.”
“Elope! Don’t be absurd.” His face creased with disapproval. “You are not eloping with Sidow. You can’t, unless you want him dead, or in jail.”
“Then what do you propose I do?” I was almost angry with Elmi for not being more understanding.
“I do not know, but eloping is not the solution,” he said.
“It seems I have no choice.” I fled to my room.
*
Things remained at a standstill until the week after Omar and Rhoda returned from their honeymoon. Omar spent that night at home, but not with Rhoda. He was mostly in the study with Father. For the rest of that week, Omar came and went—to where, no one knew. Even Rhoda didn’t seem bothered by his comings and goings and only shrugged when I asked her about it.
Jamac and his parents, along with a dozen other relatives, arrived at the end of that week. It was a Friday afternoon, and Elmi and I were in the sitting room, looking at his latest drawing.
“My parents are here,” Rhoda announced and ran out the house. I wanted to go to my room, but stayed only long enough to hide my obvious displeasure. After I greeted them, I asked Mother if I could be excused. She tried to stop me from going.
Rhoda’s father raised his hand. “Halima let her go. It is becoming for a young lady to be shy in front of her future in-laws and husband.”
Rhoda followed me to my room. “My parents and yours will start planning your wedding as soon as your father gets home.” A smirk spread over her face. “Wouldn’t you like to know the details of your big day?”
The words lit an angry fire in my belly. “I’m not marrying him.”
“Oh, you will,” Rhoda taunted. “You will.”
“I can’t stand your brother,” I said instead.
“You don’t think I am in love with yours, do you?”
“I didn’t ask you to love Omar. I’d sooner have you hate him.”
Rhoda laughed so loud I was afraid Mother would hear. “We are more alike than different. We both are goods to be bought and sold.”
“Speak for yourself,” I said.
“If you want to delude yourself, you can do that. But I suggest you take control of the situation by becoming part of the process,” she said and then promptly left.
All that night and the next day, I steeled myself to get through this one hour at a time. Meals were torturous sessions. I was forced to smile as I listened to plans for a future I wanted no part of. Where we were going to go for our honeymoon, the house we were going share with Jamac’s parents in Mogadishu, and the furniture within it were discussed in detail. I nodded, pretending I was paying attention.
I took refuge in Elmi’s room at the end of dinner the second night. “I have to do something.” On Elmi’s bed, I used his towel to wipe the tears.
Elmi handed me a folded sheet of paper, wrapped in plastic. “Here.”
“What is it?”
Elmi opened his door and looked outside to make sure we would not be overheard. “Your parting gift.”
“My parting gift?”
He took the paper back from me and unfurled it, exposing an exquisite but sad drawing. This was the first drawing Elmi had completed since we’d lost Sidow’s company.
Elmi ran his fingers over the paper. “I started this the minute I realized you were leaving.” He pointed at his drawing. “What do you think?”
The image of a girl on a long and narrow road filled the page. The end of the pavement disappeared under an ominous sky that reached to swallow the asphalt. It was dark around the girl, except for a bright light above her head. The sun, threatened by the approaching merger, struggled to peek through a small gap between the clouds. Her hands were outstretched toward a single ray that grew stronger as the road moved farther and farther away from her.
I turned from the vivid image that depicted my bleak situation only too well. “How did you know I was leaving? I haven’t even decided yet!”
“You were right. You have no other option but to elope. I hate the idea, and it is very dangerous, but there is no other way.”
“I’m scared,” I confessed.
Elmi smiled. “When times are tough, hold this.”
“I will, but I’m afraid I need more practical help.”
“I know.” Elmi refolded the paper and handed it back to me.
I rose from the bed, lightheaded and feeling the magnitude of the decision I was about to act upon.
Chapter Fourteen
The following night, I went to Hawa’s room in the servants’ quarters immediately after dinner.
Hawa stopped folding clothes and looked at me. “What are you doing here? You should be with the others, planning your wedding.”
“I need you to help me elope.” I told her quickly in case I lost the courage to ask.
She didn’t seem as surprised as I thought she would be. “I know you have to do it, but I can’t get involved. I’ll lose my job.”
I expected her to try and talk me out of the leaving, but like Elmi, she was resigned to the inevitable. “I’ll ask Mother if I can come with you to the market to pick henna design samples. All I ask is that you stay at the market an hour or so longer than usual to give me enough time to reach Sidow’s house.”
“Will she let you come with me?”
“I think so, if I pretend to go along with her plan. When you come back, tell her I ran off and you spent the extra time looking for me. Be certain others hear you calling my name and they’ll testify to it. Ask anyone you pass on your way home, if they’ve seen me.”
“Does Sidow know?”
“Yes, I sent him a note with Elmi this morning. He didn’t respond to it, but he knows.”
Hawa nodded and went back to folding the laundry.
*
I kept in step with Hawa, holding on to one of the handles of the grocery basket. I rifled through a basket of fruit at one stall in the produce section of the market and surveyed the open displays just long enough for others to see me. “Look at this.” I held a henna package out to Hawa. “This is a stunning design, is it not?”
Hawa nodded. Her eyes darted from the henna package to the aisle behind the vegetable stall. “We need to get to the butcher before all the good pieces are sold,” she said.
I put the package of henna back into the box and moved to a stall with an array of costume jewelry. “Do you think Mother would let me wear this on my wedding night?” I asked the question loud enough for the vendor to hear, just in case Hawa needed witnesses.
“No! You are Idil Hussein Nuur, the general’s daughter. Your mother would never allow you to wear anything but pure gold.”
The vendor rolled her eyes and turned to the next customer.
“Come, let us get the meat.” I walked alongside of Hawa.
As we drew closer to the canopy that housed the meat shops, Hawa walked a few steps ahead of me, allowing others to cut in. “Stay close,” she said, but continued to speed up.
“I am right behind you,” I called, but after I lost sight of Hawa, I turned around and hurried away from the market.
*
On my way to Sidow’s, I thought about the consequences of my actions. How long would it be until Hawa arrived home, carrying a half-full basket because, having lost me, she was too worried to do the rest of the shopping? I tried to imagine Father’s reaction when Mother told him I was gone. How long would it take them to realize I had eloped with Sidow and they would have to deal with Jamac’s family and the tribe elders? Drowning in frightening thoughts, I entered Sidow’s farm from the side and went straight to the cornfield where I had instructed him to meet me.
“Hey,” I whispered.
Sidow poked his head through the corn stalks. The leaves framed his face, making him look like the photo on one of the Wheat Board posters. “You are here!” Sidow hugged me. “I read your note, but I didn’t think you would go through with it.”
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