Words in the Dust

by Trent Reedy

  Then it was quiet for a while. We waited, and I held Zeynab’s hand.

  After a few minutes, Najib and Baba’s brother Ramin came to the door and asked Zeynab if she was willing to marry Tahir. Of course she said yes. Then they left and we waited some more. I squeezed my sister’s hand. It was really happening. The long-awaited wedding day had finally arrived. These were her last few minutes living here at home.

  “Malehkah?” Baba’s voice came from just outside the door. His happiness seemed to charge his every word. “It’s time to go!” When Malehkah opened the door, he stepped in, wearing his new Western-style suit. She shook her head. “Don’t be so grumpy,” he said to her. “This suit was a much better idea than any old perahan-tunban. Tahir is a smart businessman. He’s invited the Americans to the wedding.” He smoothed his hand down over the silly strip of cloth that hung down from his neck, this thing he called a tie. “Rude as they are, they probably won’t bother to show up. But if they do, I’ll be ready to show them that I’m just the man for all their welding needs. HA!” He clapped his hands. “But that’s enough complicated men’s talk. Zeynab, your husband’s family is outside and ready to take you to Hajji Abdullah’s for the arusi.” He went back out to the sitting room.

  I regretted not saying anything while we waited through the nikah. Now I wanted to tell Zeynab so much, but everything was happening very fast.

  After a few minutes, we could hear the singing — happy songs of love and hope. Malehkah and I helped Zeynab into her chadri and led her out of the house to the front courtyard, where most of the women who had been at the shahba-henna awaited her. Just before they took her outside to the street where their cars waited, Zeynab squeezed my hand.

  The arusi was usually held at the groom’s home, but since Tahir lived over an hour away in Farah, Hajji Abdullah had offered the use of his beautiful new house for the occasion. Uncle Ramin rode up front in Baba’s Toyota. Najib, Halima, Khatira, and I rode in the backseat. Uncle Ghobad, Malehkah, her family, and the boys followed in their car.

  As we approached the Abdullah compound in the new section of town, Baba smiled and pointed. “You see? Look. Look at that compound. No mudstone walls there. No. All cement block. Look at all those colored tiles on the second floor. He’s got a big porch up there where you can see down into his back courtyard and out to the mountains. And all of this built just in the last year since he’s been working for the Americans!”

  “And now you’re building for the Americans too, Uncle Sadiq,” said Khatira.

  Baba’s grin was hard not to catch. “Yes. And my darling daughter is marrying a great man today.” He tooted the horn and smiled.

  Baba parked our Toyota just off the dirt road in front of the Abdullah compound. We tumbled out of the vehicle. I smoothed out my freshly cleaned pink Eid dress the best I could. We went up the path past many cars. The sound of music came from inside the compound. Zeynab must have already gone in. Habib stopped for a moment and looked up with an open mouth at the big house, but Khalid grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him along. When we reached the compound gate, Baba knocked on a colorful door, but I was not prepared for what I saw when the door opened.

  “Salaam. Welcome to our home.” Anwar. He spoke with his right hand over his heart as he bowed to the men. On his face was a grin like the one he had whenever he’d just pulled off a particularly cruel stunt. His eyes quickly swept us all, stopping for just the smallest instant on me. I pulled my chador up to cover my mouth as Anwar stepped back and motioned for us to pass him and go inside. “Please come in.”

  Everyone went through the gate, and Anwar made a little bow to Baba again. “If you will follow me? The men are celebrating inside where it is cool. The women can head down this hall to the back courtyard.”

  Baba-jan thanked Anwar, who led him down a separate corridor. Baba gently pushed Uncle Ramin, Uncle Ghobad, and Najib ahead while he held back a moment. He held out his hands to Khalid and Habib and spoke louder so the little boys would be sure to listen. “Let’s see if you’re big enough to behave yourselves at the men’s party this time.” Then he led my little brothers away to celebrate with the men.

  “Come on.” Malehkah beckoned with the veil she carried, leading us all down the hallway toward the back of the house. “I need to get out of this chadri and sit down. Besides, we don’t want to keep the women waiting.”

  The Abdullah house was a massive two-story castle, easily four or five times the size of our little mudstone home. The entire front courtyard was cement save for a circle cut out for a palm tree. Flowers grew in little pots everywhere. The back courtyard was much the same, except a larger part was left without cement for a garden. In the center of the back courtyard was a beautiful, circular fountain with colored tiles, a column of water spurting up in its center and streams of water arching from the outer ring toward the middle. Women were already seated on rugs, talking and drinking tea. Would Zeynab live in a house like this? If so, it was a good thing Tahir had two other wives. She would need a lot of help to keep such a large house clean.

  “There you are!” Gulzoma came out of one of the back doors of the castle onto the stone porch. She wore a flowing blue dress and spread her big arms out wide. “Come on, all of you, take those chadris off and come up here. Zeynab is waiting right inside. She looks absolutely beautiful.” When the women had removed their chadris, Gulzoma swept up Malehkah in an embrace. “Malehkah, you look lovely. Such a pretty dress.” She stepped back and put her hands on her hips. “Have you been sneaking visits to my tailor? Meena is so talented. She made this for me just for this wedding.” Gulzoma spun around, showing off her blue dress. My face grew hot with the mention of sneaking visits to the tailor. Meena was more talented than Gulzoma would ever know.

  Just when Malehkah was about to reply, Gulzoma switched her attention to her mother and sister. It was as if Malehkah had vanished and her family had suddenly appeared on a wind. “Farida! Tayereh!” She put heavy emphasis on each of their names as though it was the first time she’d ever heard them. “I can see good taste runs in the family!” She turned to look at Halima and Khatira and spread her fingers over her chest. “And are those the latest styles from Kabul? Beautiful!”

  Then she ran her hands down the sleeves of my dress. “Oooh, my baby girl! My little bird. There just aren’t words.” I suspected that somehow Gulzoma would find more than a few words. She kissed my cheeks, one after the other, then pulled me to her, smothering me against her big chest. “Look at you, in a pretty dress. Trying to look pretty but with your poor, poor mouth.” She was making such a big show of my mouth that other guests were starting to look. “Oooh!” She leaned forward and spoke quietly. “Don’t you worry. I am going to convince my husband to make those Americans get you all fixed up.” She spun me around to stand beside her with her arm draped over my shoulders. “She’s a bird. Just a very bird! We are going to get her all fixed up. I just know it.”

  When she stopped to breathe, I thought it best to take my opportunity. “Tashakor, Gulzoma. I am very grateful.”

  “I’m sure you are! I’m just sure you are. You sweet little thing. You bird.”

  I really wished she would stop calling me bird.

  Gulzoma led us through a set of double glass doors into a beautiful room with a carpeted floor, a soft sofa, two chairs, and a small polished wooden table on which rested a tray of fruit and some bottles of water. Zeynab sat on the sofa, trying to hold back her smile. She looked at me and then at Gulzoma. I was sure she had heard everything outside. “Here she is!” Gulzoma squeezed my sister’s arm. “So beautiful! Here is where you will wait until it’s time for you to walk up and join Tahir by our fountain. I have to go make sure the servants are taking care of the guests. Half the town of An Daral is going to be here.” She laughed. “Our family is large, but my husband has also invited others, even the Americans. And though I begged him not to, he just had to invite the Farah Province governor!” She leaned toward Malehkah and lowered her vo
ice as though telling a big secret. “I really hope he doesn’t come. You know, I was just saying the other —”

  “Gulzoma!” A stern voice boomed from another part of the house.

  Gulzoma instantly stood straight up and turned serious. “My husband.” She glided out of the room.

  Zeynab let out a breath. “I’m glad she’s gone.” We snickered, but Malehkah turned a warning glare on us both.

  “This is the home of your host. You will not disrespect anyone who lives here.”

  “Bale, Madar,” we said together.

  She leaned in close to us. “Do not embarrass your father,” she warned. She turned to me so that her face was inches from mine, the wrinkles around her eyes folding into deep creases as she scowled at me. “Remember your place, Zulaikha. Remember your duty.”

  “Bale, Madar.”

  Zeynab turned her head to the side. “Madar, why are you so upset? Why can’t you be happy? This is supposed to be a happy day.”

  Malehkah snorted. “Your special day.” Then her expression softened and her eyes glistened just a little. “Oh, Zeynab,” she said.

  My sister’s mouth fell open and she looked at Malehkah, wide-eyed. “Madar? What is it?”

  Malehkah shook her head and then forced a smile. “Nothing.” She wiped her eyes. “Nothing. Let’s just make this day the best it can be.”

  This apparently satisfied Zeynab. “Tashakor, Madar.”

  Malehkah only nodded. I couldn’t get past the feeling that she had wanted to say more — that Zeynab had been too easily comforted by her false smile. I looked at my father’s wife as she ate a banana from the tray. No matter what she said, she seemed determined to ruin Zeynab’s dream wedding. I clenched my fists. I’d just have to work extra hard to make sure the day was perfect.

  The sound of voices and laughter made me peek through the curtain covering the door to the back porch. Dozens of women were crowding the courtyard. The men must have been filling up other parts of the house. Children rushed around serving the women. I touched my split upper lip. My hand was sweaty. I forced myself to think about Zeynab and not about having to go out there in front of all those people.

  At least it was as wonderful a setting as Zeynab and I had ever dreamed of. The servants were bringing out the food. It was a lot like last night’s feast, but of course, here at the Abdullah house, there was more. I could see roast chicken, mutton, beef, and goat. Enormous bowls of rice with little pieces of carrots and raisins. Roasted buttered potatoes. Radishes, pickled cucumbers, and peppers. Bowls of nuts. Bowls of candies. Oranges, apples, bananas, and pomegranates. Almost all that An Daral had to offer for food, plus some things from the bazaar in Farah City, were laid out for the enjoyment of the guests.

  Three women brought their musical instruments out and took seats on a rug off to the side of the fountain. One set up her tabla drums. Another began to warm up by squeezing her harmonium and pressing the keys. The third strummed and plucked the strings on her rubab, turning wooden keys at the top of its neck to adjust the sound. I looked back at Malehkah and my sister. “The women’s band!” Not in our most elaborate fantasies had we ever dreamed that Zeynab could have a band just for the women’s party at her wedding.

  “It won’t be long now,” said Malehkah. “Soon, Tahir will come.”

  “Bale, Madar.” Zeynab’s voice was shaky.

  We waited and waited, while out in the courtyard more and more women arrived. Finally, Malehkah snapped her fingers. “The veil. It’s almost time.”

  I carefully helped her lift the veil over Zeynab’s head. Now, in the beautiful green dress that she and I had worked on for years, with the soft white veil over her face and her hair curled up atop her head like a crown, my sister literally shone. The sequins on the skirt of her dress sparkled.

  “You’re beautiful,” I said.

  “So are you,” she whimpered through tears.

  “I love —”

  “No! What are you doing? No crying! You’ll make a mess of your makeup and your eyes will be all red.” Malehkah took Zeynab’s white wedding cloth from her pocket, pulled the veil back up, and dabbed carefully at her eyes. “You are not a child anymore, Zeynab. You can’t be crying like this. They’ll think you don’t want to get married. They’ll think you’re ungrateful. Imagine what they’ll say about your father if you go out there with all these tears. You have responsibilities.”

  “But Madar, I —”

  My father’s wife cracked her hand across Zeynab’s cheek.

  Zeynab and I were silent and still. We stared at Malehkah in horror. Malehkah waited for a moment, her eyes wide, as though she was challenging us to defy her. Then she sighed, handed me the wedding cloth, pulled Zeynab’s veil back down, and went back to the curtain. “Remember what I have told both of you.”

  We didn’t answer. Malehkah may have shocked the tears out of my sister, but she had also taken the last bit of joy from the room. She turned around and looked us both over. “He’s coming. Be ready.”

  Zeynab turned her eyes toward the floor. She was not supposed to look at her husband. It was especially wrong to make eye contact with him. She sighed.

  “Shh. Quiet,” Malehkah hissed.

  I peeked around the curtain again. Finally, Tahir stood waiting in the front near the fountain. He was clean-shaven and his dark hair was flecked with just enough gray to make him handsome. Wrinkles in his forehead and at the corners of his eyes suggested wisdom and reminded me of Baba-jan. He wore a nice new embroidered perahan-tunban and several gold rings on his fingers. He was very tall.

  “Oh, Zeynab,” I said. “He’s amazing. He looks so strong and sure.”

  Malehkah nodded and opened the doors. “It’s time,” she said, ushering Zeynab outside.

  The music out in the courtyard changed to something slower and more somber, and Tahir smiled, looking down as well.

  Zeynab and I had often dreamed of her wedding day, but never had we imagined her husband to be so much older. Older, maybe, than Baba-jan. Still, this was the way of things, right? Baba was much older than Malehkah. Besides, Baba-jan loved us all and was certain that he had found Zeynab the perfect husband. I looked again at the big man who waited for Zeynab. He was established and strong. A good Muslim, to be blessed with so much wealth.

  “Be a good woman,” Malehkah said quietly in my ear. She handed me a cloth-wrapped Holy Quran. “Do not disappoint your father.” She went out and sat down on a rug near the front. I held the Holy Book over my sister’s head as I followed her slowly to the fountain.

  Once Zeynab stood by Tahir’s side, they played around at whose foot would be in front of the other person’s. It was said that the foot that ended up in front belonged to the boss of the marriage. Zeynab finally lost, as was expected, and there were chuckles and murmurs from the women.

  Then it was time for them to sit on their throne, the same small, red, cushioned couch that Hajji Abdullah had brought to our house for Zeynab last night. Now whoever was last to sit down would be the boss of the marriage. When Malehkah had told us all of these wedding rules, Zeynab and I had laughed, thinking these little rituals were cute. It was cute now, too, and I smiled behind my chador as Tahir and Zeynab each stood facing forward, neither one willing to sit down. Then Gulzoma came up to the front with her hands on her big hips and an amused frown on her face. She smiled at me and at all the women, then she put her hands on both Tahir and Zeynab’s shoulders, gently pushing them both down at the same time until they sat. Everybody chuckled and clapped. Gulzoma bowed to everyone and returned to where she sat near Malehkah.

  Now I knew it was my turn. I took a deep breath and carefully placed the Holy Quran on a small table near the couple. I pulled my chador over my mouth. My legs shook and my hands were sweaty as I felt so many eyes watching me. I was grateful, at least, that the men celebrated the wedding separately.

  I felt a hand press my back and turned to see my cousin Khatira. She nodded at the green, lace-edged shawl on the table.
Together we held up the shawl by all four corners over Zeynab and her new husband. Then one of the girls from the Abdullah clan brought a mirror and slowly reached around to hand it to the couple.

  There in the mirror I watched these two people who would spend the rest of their lives together look at each other for the very first time. Tahir smiled broadly. Zeynab saw Tahir’s reflection and for just a moment, she had the smallest look of surprise. Then she studied his face, his dark eyes, the firm line of his chin, and his warm smile. She smiled too — smiled beautifully because she was so beautiful.

  For an instant she looked at me in the mirror, and I, her sister, knew. Tahir was older even than she had expected. This was true. But she was happy. I nodded to the Abdullah girl and handed her my two corners of the shawl. Then I gave thanks to Allah for His book before I picked up the Holy Quran from the table. I held it above the heads of my sister and Tahir. Behind me, everyone went silent and in my heart I prayed for my sister’s many future sons, for her husband to be kind, and for her happiness. After I passed the Holy Quran to Tahir, he kissed the book and opened it. He read a few of the sacred lines, placed money in the book, closed it, and then kissed it again. I accepted the book back from him and carefully placed it back on the table. With a nod to Khatira, I pulled back the shawl. My role in the arusi was finished.

  Tahir and Zeynab held hands as they stood up and turned around to face everyone’s cheers and applause. The band struck up another song and people moved about.

  Khatira and I sat down next to Malehkah and Aunt Halima. I watched Zeynab and Tahir stare straight ahead with unsmiling faces for picture after picture, as was expected by custom. They cut into a huge cake before they fed each other crumbling pieces. I wanted to go speak to my sister, but Malehkah held me back. “Stay out of the way and just watch.”

  When the music changed to something more spirited, many women took to dancing. I wanted to join them, but didn’t like the thought of all those people staring at my mouth. I kept to myself with my chador covering me.