In that moment Tin Abutut looked forty years older, and I suppose she had the face of her mother when she said, “No. Why would I kill her! The Brits will do that. Just like you told that American journalist in Yafran. You’re an English agent who knows where Saif al-Islam is hiding out, ha! The British found that bit of information quite interesting. Get your things together. The helicopter’s coming to get you.”
“And what about us?” shouted Maryam, still holding Amira by the arm. Tin Abutut spun round like the wife of a feudal lord.
“Amira saved you. The three of you are going back to Tunisia. But first we’re going to take care of this old witch. The English have promised me they will return your body to me once they are done with you. Then my sisters and I will decide what to do next. Tin Abutut. I will then be free of that accursed name.”
Madam Lilla pulled open the flap of her tent. Slowly she stepped outside. She stood there tall like a queen, fearless of being executed. Her large silver necklace rested prominently on her chest. She ran her eyes over everyone. She flashed us a disgusted look. “You miserable fools!” she said. “You common women. I thought maybe you were different…”
“Enough!” shouted Amira. “We don’t want to hear any more out of you.”
Madam Lilla slowly drew her hand out from behind her back. She was holding Muhammed’s letters.
“But I suppose you want to take these with you. These precious letters.”
We heard the whirring of a helicopter. Amira grew restless. Tin Abutut shouted at Madam, “Give the girl her letters!” And Lilla started to laugh.
“Let her come and take them. Otherwise these precious documents are coming with me to the Brits.”
The three of us walked over to Lilla. Still looking at us in disgust, she hissed through her teeth.
“You fools! You’ll never achieve anything in your lives. You’ll never be anyone. Because you’re weak and insignificant.”
We could no longer hear her voice over the circling blades of the helicopter. Tin Abutut was shouting at all of us, “Quick! Quick! They’re here!”
As sand swirled up in the air Maryam suddenly leapt behind Tin Abutut, drew a gun and pointed it at her head. Lilla was shouting, “Hurry up! Furkan and Tariq are also armed!”
By the time the chopper landed the two already had their guns drawn. Maryam’s entire body was shaking. Madam was shouting at her, “Shoot! Shoot!”
Tin Abutut had nearly struggled free of Maryam. Amira and I couldn’t get close to them, fearing the gun might go off. Madam Lilla shouted through the clamour:
“Maryaaaam! Shoot!”
Maryam waited a little more. And then Madam Lilla snatched the gun out of her hand and put a bullet in Furkan’s leg and one in Tariq’s foot. And she shouted, “Run! To the chopper! Run!”
Tin Abutut was still shouting at Furkan and Tariq. “Get them! They aren’t the Brits!”
When the camels began to flee from the confusion one of them knocked Tin Abutut to the ground. And we made a break for it. We scrambled towards the chopper. Two figures clothed entirely in black lifted Madam Lilla and pushed her inside. From inside the helicopter she recited the Felak verse at the top of her lungs. Ripping off her necklace, she threw it to the ground. She shouted one more time, “From the evil of the blowers of knots!”
Taking a deep breath Lilla sat down next to Amira and put her arm around her. She kissed her on the forehead.
“God bless. I knew you’d be able to do it!” Amira was as cold as ice, like stone, staring wide eyed at Lilla. She was glowing with life again.
Earlier that night Amira had found Tin Abutut’s satellite phone and sent a mayday message to the number Madam had given her. Now we expected Maryam to ask Lilla who had come to rescue us and where we were going. But suddenly she broke down and started to sob. Cool and collected, Madam Lilla looked at her, and as if we had all just sat down in a waiting room and nothing particularly out of the ordinary had just happened, she said through the chuff-chuff-chuff of the helicopter blades:
“You’re pregnant, Maryam. You are trying to have a miscarriage. The way you threw yourself off the camel, nauseous all the time, cutting all your hair… you didn’t have an abortion because you think it’s a sin and so you have come on this trip to lose your child, right? Is that your secret? Tell me.”
Maryam’s lips fluttered as she tried to say something but only horrifying sounds came out. When they finally became words she only managed to sputter through her teeth:
“Madam. I left her. I … I was afraid… And now you see, Madam! I can’t protect her. And I can’t protect Amira either… I couldn’t shoot. And what about my daughter? Do you understand? Do you? I’m not a real woman. Nothing like that. I can’t. She has no father. Her father is one of the kids in Tahrir. And I’m all alone… protecting myself. I turned myself into a man… and what if she turns out like me? I have no idea … I only have these swords. A bald head. I just want to forget it all, Madam. Forget that I’m afraid… but I love her so much. How could I forget her? I can’t do it. I can’t!”
Our feet were entangled. How could we reach out and hold her? Madam stopped us. “Leave her!” she shouted. “Let her cry.” Like ice, Madam was back to her former self and with a face like stone she asked, “Where is she?”
These sounds came out of Maryam, something like braying. And the two armed men dressed in black who had come for us uncovered their faces… they were women. They weren’t looking at us. Maryam was shouting,“I couldn’t save Amira, Madam. I can’t do it!”
Lilla screamed even louder, “Where is she?”
Maryam started hitting herself in the face. Amira tried to get a hold on her but she couldn’t. In a daze I couldn’t reach her either.
“I … my daughter … I’m going … going to see heeeeeeer….”
It was like she was losing her mind.
“I’m afraid, Madam. I’m so very afraid, Madam. Please help me!”
And that’s how Maryam came to sort herself out. Tears welled up in Madam Lilla’s eyes as Maryam put her hands in Lilla’s lap.
“We’ll take care of it,” she said. “Just don’t be afraid. We are all in this together.”
Maryam had become a tiny little woman. Maybe all the screaming and the shouting were for her child but in a way it seemed like she was giving birth to a heavily swaddled woman right then and there. She was breaking all her swords; she was surrendering to Lilla.
“Where is she, my dear? Tell me that,” said Madam Lilla in her softest voice. Indeed she was still shouting over the clamour but her voice fell lightly into the human ear in drops of compassion that brought confidence.
“Far away, Madam! I can’t go there alone, Madam!”
As she cried, ‘mummy, mummy!’ Maryam’s voice in the human ear was like the saliva of a lion licking her own wounds. It wasn’t hard to see this was the first time she’d asked someone for help.
Taking Maryam by the hand, Madam Lilla looked out over the desert. Amira and I looked at each other. Maryam was doubled over between us, clutching Lilla’s hands. I put my hand on Maryam’s back and Amira put her hand on mine. And we stayed like that. The bright yellow desert racing beneath us. Some time later when Maryam had stopped crying, Madam Lilla spoke as if she were heading out for a walk in the countryside:
“Maryam don’t sit like that. You’ll get sick to you stomach. Put your head up.”
Madam Lilla could suddenly turn the extraordinary into the ordinary and quickly lighten any misfortune. Everything seemed entirely normal. Everything seemed like it would all work out.
A light touch on my back. One of the young women with dark kohl around her eyes and a smiling face said, “They are expecting you in Alexandria.” She patted me lightly on the back. She was consoling us without knowing what had happened. We assumed they were only waiting for us in Alexandria. In the back of her jeans Maryam had stuffed not only her notebook but Muhammed’s letters, too, and they rustled as she rocked back and forth. Maybe
she wasn’t able to save Amira but she had managed to hold onto her letters.
I took them out, put them in my lap and started to read. Every time it seemed like a page might fly away I held them more tightly in my hands or tucked them under my arms and legs. As I read through them I came to know the essence of Maryam’s secret in her story of Dido, but more importantly there was Amira’s secret about Muhammed. The desert had united the three of us and with these stories in my lap they were the closest they could be to my womb. As we sped through the sky the stories of two women spiralled in the desert wind and took root in my lap.
*
Dido’s Fourth Tablet
I am Queen Dido’s servant, master of the slave girls. I am Elissa’s companion, her confidante. I am Penelope. And these are my words.
Dido lived. I watched her. I was the one who boarded that Phoenician boat with her. I could have stayed behind to live out my own life. But I, Penelope, I gave myself to the fate of Dido. She called me Penelope and I did not seek another name. I was born into the palace a slave. I learned by heart how to be happy when she was happy. But I was not kept a slave, I chose to remain one. What I have to say now are the words of a free woman. I decided to put these words to parchment when the mysterious traveller’s ship came to Carthage. Let these words be said and known until the Mediterranean runs dry. So that generations to come will have mercy on Dido. I had this tablet prepared without the order of the Queen. These tablets will be buried seven layers under ground along with the secrets of Dido. Those inscribing these words onto stone are three women slaves who have sworn to be buried with their work. Their names are Zin, Dira and Sura. They have told the gods they will sacrifice their own lives to warn our future daughters.
Thus Dido’s tale shall unfold the way I tell it.
*
For seven days and seven nights the stranger’s ship was anchored in the open waters. Seven times Queen Dido died and was born again. Then on the eighth day the warriors set foot in Carthage. When the stranger arrived the Queen was exhausted. She had succumbed to a battle with her own self. The women of Carthage offered sacrifices to the gods. They made a pact with the gods: they would shed the blood of white oxen so that the stranger would fall in love with Dido.
Elissa took my hand as the ship approached the shore. In the same way the Queen took my hand when we boarded the ship in Phoenicia. And the same way she took my hand when she decided to rule over the savages of this land. The Queen took my hand. I was gripped with fear. Elissa can no longer see me. The Queen now no longer sees herself. If it is not Phoenicia she is leaving behind then what is she leaving behind this time? The Queen fell before the war started. I was gripped with fear. All of Carthage saw this impending defeat. Dido was not heeding us. I pleaded to the gods: “Do no let this happen: For Dido wants to fall.”
Dido said, “An eagle came to Carthage.” But I have seen it with my own eyes, this stranger was no wild eagle. Dido said, “What a beautiful-faced brave warrior.” We saw him and his obscure smile. Dido said, “His face is full of scars. He has come to me with stories.” The prophetesses read the scars on his face which said, “Here lies the wrath of a soldier who could not vanquish anyone.” Dido said, “A noble man is coming.” But I saw with my own eyes a bandit dressed in a nobleman’s furs. Dido said, “Either my love or death comes on that ship. This time the gods must show me mercy.” I saw that something worse than death was nigh. Taking me by the hand, Dido looked at me and said, “Will the stranger love me?” That was the day that Carthage fell.
*
The stranger came. His name was Aeneas. He looked deep into Dido’s eyes. He had dark eyes and on his right cheek was a deep scar left by a sword. He had dark curly hair. And like a wild animal he had hair on his body. He was neither ashamed of his hair nor would he bow his head. Cunning was the stranger for he knew how to make a queen fall in love and bend a knee: the stranger was making bold to her.
He began by speaking of Dido’s beauty and all his legendary victories along the coast of the Mediterranean. Yet the brazen airs of this young warrior suggested he sought neither protection from Queen Dido nor a part of her country. The stranger reached into Dido’s chest, took her heart and turned it in the palm of his hand. The stranger wanted the light that gave life to Dido. He went down on his knee and all of Carthage beheld the stranger. Looking at Dido they saw how the Queen desired to hang her head lower than his. The stranger did not conquer Dido. Dido wanted to be the stranger, to be the conqueror. She had crossed the borders of her own country and was now in foreign lands.
Clapping her hands together she rained orders down on her servants. Dido had never before clapped her hands like this, nor given orders in that way. Like ravenous hyenas the warriors glared at our women. Dido’s dress billowed in the wind, showing her feet. Dido never showed her feet. Linen andbeds were unfurled on the terraces and purple silk nettings were drawn. The fires were lit and lambs were soon turning on the spit. Swaying left and right, Dido lavished the sky with every turn. Dido never walked like that. Dido ordered the girls to be merry. And they began to dance. And having met with more generosity than they had expected the warriors could see that their commander had devastated Dido and they laughed. Dido laughed with them. By then she was blind. I, Penelope, had to remain silent. Dido had the right to be happy. They sat down to a banquet. Dido listened to Aeneas. Like a young and simple-minded girl, she marvelled at what he had to say. Aeneas spoke to her of Troy. He told her of the horror and his defeat and his flight as Troy fell. As Aeneas told his tale his defeat seemed more like some glorious victory. Like a wounded snake he slithered underneath her pity. Aeneas spoke until Dido believed he was a miracle. Giving herself up, she said, “I knew that you would come. I knew you were like me.” The stranger drove Dido’s horses without a whip.
Glancing at Dido the girls were giggling. “How quickly the queen surrendered to this charlatan?” They didn’t know how weary queens were capable of giving away their minds, their thrones and their gods only to be hopelessly deceived. But I told myself it would be Dido herself who would undo this spell of her own making.
I am Penelope. The gods will not forgive me. Because I remained silent. The stranger had come to Carthage. Dido gazed upon Aeneas in the same way Penelope gazed at Dido. I became a prisoner of this traitorous pleasure.
*
I am Penelope and I have never been in love. Because Dido taught us never to surrender. Dido taught us to know that we will always remain alone. Dido taught us that mystery lives in our own breath. Blowing we fill the sails of our hearts, this is what Dido taught the girls of Carthage. Now she was breathing with all her might. Pushing out all the air in her lungs to blow away from the hills of Carthage this eagle called Aeneas. When Dido finished breathing Aeneas’ eyes would go dim, his arms weak. If Aeneas had left before Elissa’s breath had finished, her vessel would have struck rocks. The sea of Carthage would go dry.
On the first night Elissa did not take the stranger to bed. Aeneas lay silently in ambush. When Elissa retired to her room she called for me. There she was looking at her naked reflection in the glass. Dido said, “Aeneas is younger than me.” I replied, “Let us not be deceived by appearances my Queen. Men are more skillful than women in the hunt and more primitive in their lack of mercy and heartbreaking in their blindness.” To which Dido responded, “With magic I will make him lose his head.” And I said, “My Queen first be sure that such magic will not swallow up Carthage.” Dido, “I am old now. Aeneas wants a country and I want to love.” I said, “But this time my Queen you want to be loved, too.” And for the first time I told her what she must do. “Give the order,” I said. “Tell the soldiers to burn his ship and Aeneas will be yours. Take him prisoner.” Dido cried, “No! He will not be taken prisoner. He will stay in Africa because he is a slave to my love.” I said, “Men despise the lands that they have not conquered with the sword of ambition and the blood of wrath. They should be given no offers.”
I had presented
Dido with my servility. Now Dido hoped for the servility of a stranger wrapped in animal furs. Dido is no longer Dido. She has to be protected from Elissa. Penelope must become Dido. What she learned from Dido will lead her to be the guardian of Carthage and Elissa’s heart. That is how I decided for wickedness to be brought upon Dido to make her put an end to this dream that would bring a curse to Carthage.If I told her she would not listen. With her own eyes she had to see her wrongdoing. She had to come to the light and put on her armour again.
With the rising sun Dido made ready fruit and bread. She would take Aeneas into the pastures. Spring lambs were turning on the spit. Flasks were filled with wine. Dido was blossoming like a wild flower. Throughout the day Aeneas worked his charms setting the groundwork for lies that would stoke her desires. I, Penelope, saw it in his eyes: how delighted he was, a hunter with spear in hand, in anticipation of feasting upon his prey. He was the most dangerous kind of hunter. But Aeneas thinks nothing of his prey, and only of himself. She believes she will make him a slave to her love. While Aeneas planned to beguile her and then break her wings. Dido asked me to join them. She wanted me to fall in love with him, too. So I might be her partner in crime. I should fall in love with her so that yet another could watch her tumble into hell. Aeneas was the most dangerous of warriors. He had no concern for the country he was to conquer. Aeneas was only pursuing himself. He would not stay; he would leave Carthage; that was all too clear.
We walk into the pastures. Dido looks at Aeneas and he gazes into the distance, over the sea and up at the hills. He tells Dido how loneliness and grief weigh heavily on his heart. Dido has embarked on his tale, swaying from side to side. The expression on his face causes her to leap from grief to joy and from joy to fantasy and from fantasy to truth. He would finish a story before he started and start before he finished. He had the shimmering eyes of a wild dog. “I am nothing,” he said. “Are you nothing as well, Dido?” He groped for her heart and found it.
By the time Dido made the decision to save him from herself a net is cast over us. There is no escape for the queen any more. “How beautiful you are, Dido, like the sun,” says Aeneas, “But no, I cannot fall for such beauty.” Dido then looks at him so closely she is blinded. She believes him so fully that she no longer needs to listen. She feeds him fine meats and pours wine through his lips. “I want to love you, Dido,” he says and then gazes into the distance. The demons in him are stirring. “But I can’t love you, leave me. I am an evil man, Dido. Do not love me,” says Aeneas. She has forgotten all that she has taught us.
Women Who Blow on Knots Page 30