Granada (16 page)

10

A
s sure as the days were passing Naeem grew certain that he was struck by an evil eye, one so potent that its effect would last a long time. How else, then, could he explain how his heart could be stolen by a young girl whose name he didn't know, or from where she came and where she lived, that he might go and knock on her door and ask for her hand in marriage? A year or two, perhaps three years went by and he couldn't look at any girl without seeing her face, whether in the light of day or the dark of night. He was tortured by this void in his life to the point of feeling anger toward his absent lover and rage at himself. He swore by everything sacred that he would marry, and so he chose the first radiant face that passed through the neighborhood.

On that day he inquired about her and made up his mind. Then he went with Saad to her father's house, and when the father gave his consent they recited the opening chapter of the Quran, and Naeem was the first to congratulate himself on his new bride and the end of this bout of misfortune. Then the father of the bride came to him and said, "The Castilians are making life more difficult for us and imposing great financial burdens on us. My brother in Fez tells me to go there, for work is plentiful and life is prosperous." Naeem responded, "No need to worry! I will take good care of your daughter and treat her with respect. May you have a safe journey, and when God solves things here, come back!"

"Why don't you travel with us, so that God's blessings will be complete," he added.

Naeem declined the offer to leave Granada, and the man took his daughter and departed.

Naeem confided in Umm Jaafar about his feelings of anxiety.

"I'll find you a bride more beautiful than her."

"More beautiful, more ugly, I don't care! I just want a nice girl to be my wife. I feel old and useless, Umm Jaafar, and the years pass me by and I'll find myself an old man with no wife or children."

"Leave the matter to me," laughs Umm Jaafar. "I'll marry you off to a young girl as radiant as the full moon."

Umm Jaafar set out in search for the right bride for Naeem. She found one and told him all about her, her height, size, face, hair, personality, and temperament. Naeem paid a call on the girl's father, accompanied by Saad and Hasan. A day before the signing of the marriage contract, the mother of the bride came to visit Umm Jaafar and with tear-soaked eyes told her that her husband had decided to convert to Christianity after the Castilians announced an edict banning contacts between the Muslims of Granada and the inhabitants of the other Castilian cities.

"He's a muleteer and we all live off of the loads he transports from one place to another. Now we must all convert, I mean the entire family. If Naeem wants to marry our daughter, he too must convert."

Umm Jaafar relayed the bad news to Naeem.

"The truth of the matter is that she was crying, and even though I scolded her for her husband's decision, my heart went out to her. She left after I told her that Naeem would never do such a thing even if they put a knife to his throat. Isn't that so, Naeem?"

"Of course, Umm Jaafar."

At that very moment Naeem realized that he was ill-fated and that misfortune would be sure to follow him until his back grew humped and his teeth fell out.

"It's true that you're late getting married, but you're still only twenty."

"I'm twenty-two, Umm Jaafar."

He held back telling her that he had become the target of an evil eye, and that when he was thirteen he fell in love with a different girl every week. With a sigh of sorrow, he thought. He wondered who it was who cast the evil spell on him. If only he knew, he would beg that person to redirect his aim toward the Castilians and strike them a fatal blow. Now that Saad had gotten married, their daily encounters had dwindled to a solitary once a week. He was busy with his wife, and now she's expecting their first child. Tomorrow there'll be children and he will be all the more preoccupied. Hasan, too, is married and his wife keeps him busy as well. But what about him? He only has the sandals that he works on all day long to occupy him, and at night he wanders about the streets or sits outside the door of his shop, brooding over the evil eye that has befallen him.

Naeem was sitting outside his shop, depressed, when he suddenly saw Saad coming toward him. It wasn't the usual day of the week when they met. He sprang to his feet and shouted out a joyous greeting to his friend. He dashed into the shop and emerged with a bunch of grapes, five ripe figs, and a fistful of fresh almonds. He set them down in front of Saad as he beamed with pride. "I bought them just today. It was as if my heart was telling me that you'd be coming to visit. Here, help yourself."

As he stared into Saad's face Naeem sensed that something was wrong. "What's come over you?"

"Saleema's giving birth in two months."

"I know!"

"I may have made a mistake in marrying her."

Naeem's eyes widened in amazement. With a subtle smirk on his face, he asked, "Have you been tapping into Abu Mansour's wine?"

"I have not been drinking!"

"Did you quarrel with Saleema?"

"Not at all."

"Well, then what happened?"

"What's the use of getting married when a man can't take proper care of his family?"

"Did Umm Hasan say anything to offend you?"

"They came today and closed down Abu Mansour's bathhouse. In fact, they closed down all the bathhouses in Albaicin."

Naeem froze in shock, his mouth agape, unable to comprehend what Saad was saying.

"Are you sure of this?"

"I'm telling you, they closed it down. Some soldiers came and they threw everyone out and closed it down. They said from this day forward anyone who opened a bathhouse or worked in one would suffer the severest of punishments."

"Why is that?"

A scornful, bitter smiled flashed across Saad's face. "They say that bathhouses are unsanitary, and that it's an evil Arab custom with no useful purpose."

"So then where should people bathe?"

"Why should they bathe? Do their Castilian lords bathe?"

"And what does all of this have to do with Saleema? Did you quarrel over the bathhouse closing down?"

"O, Naeem, please! I didn't fight with Saleema, nor she with me. It's just that I'm now without a job. Isn't it enough that I live in Hasan's house? Must I now tell him to take care of me, my wife, and the child we're expecting?"

"Hasan's a brother to you, and so am I. You'll find another job."

Several moments of dead silence passed before Naeem broke it and spoke as though he were talking to himself. "Sons of bitches, they closed down the bathhouses. So where are we to bathe now?"

They grew silent once again, both lost in their innermost thoughts. Then Naeem picked a grape from the bunch and popped it into his mouth and spoke. "Tomorrow, come by my place at the crack of dawn. I'll teach you some of the things I do here. After three or four days, you'll learn everything you need to know, and I'll ask my boss to give you a job. He'll be furious to learn that they closed down the bathhouses, and his heart will go out to you and he'll give you a job. Of course, he'll ask if you have any experience in shoe making. Just tell him that you worked for a cobbler for sev
eral years before working at Abu Mansour's bathhouse. He'll ask you where and when. Tell him in Malaga. And when he asks you to show him how to do something, do what I taught you. What do you think of that?"

When Saad left, Naeem sat pondering the strange matter of closing the bathhouses. To wage battle against your enemy is understandable, but what is the wisdom of closing a bathhouse or coercing someone to change his religion? Those Castilians are indeed a strange people and apparently deranged. But what causes them to be so irrational? Did not their mothers give birth to them like normal, healthy human beings? How can their minds be so corrupted and their behavior so erratic? Naeem thought about all of this but was at a loss to find a logical explanation. Maybe it was the intense cold of the north that froze part of their brains, stopping the blood from flowing there, making them die or go insane. Or perhaps it was their excessive consumption of pork that made them dimwitted. Yet despite the closing of the bathhouse and Saad losing his job, Naeem couldn't help but feel happy at the prospect of them working together at the shop. He was a little embarrassed to think of the utter joy he would feel if the two friends went back to working together, meeting every day and talking nonstop, as they used to do.

As soon as he settled into bed, Naeem fell into a deep sleep until a knocking at his door at the crack of dawn awoke him. He opened it, and there stood Saad who had come as they agreed the night before.

"My boss doesn't get here until late morning, so there's plenty of time. So, tell me what's new before we start to work?"

Saad smiled as he stared at Naeem who just then realized that his friend had left him late last night, so how could there possibly be any news? Justifying his question he added, "I mean, did you run into anyone last night after you left? Did Umm Hasan make one of her annoying comments? Did you dream of something unusual last night or did you have a restful sleep? There's always news to tell!"

Saad laughed and so did Naeem, and then they started to work.
Umm Hasan couldn't control herself from expressing her annoyance with her daughter-in-law. "Women arrange good marriages for their sons, and the daughters-in-law come and lift the burden from them. But this Maryama is a good-for-nothing dimwit!"

"She's still a little girl, Zaynab," pleaded Umm Jaafar. "Teach her and she'll learn."

"How can I teach her when she never comes and stands with me in the kitchen when I'm cooking? She never rushes to come over and pull the broom out of my hand when she sees me bent over sweeping out the house."

Umm Jaafar laughed heartily as she pointed out how Saleema is no different, and that Maryama, although younger, at least responds when someone asks her to do something. But Saleema always makes a big fuss and concocts an excuse about something else she's doing and complains that she can't be doing two things at the same time. "They're both still very young and not up to carrying all the responsibility. They'll learn in time, especially when they have children."

Unappeased, Umm Hasan continued her tirade against Maryama without ever mentioning Saleema, and Umm Jaafar only laughed and passed it off as a mother-in-law never satisfied with the woman who marries her son, even if she were as sweet as pie. "I guess all mothers-in-law are alike, except for me!"

Umm Hasan defended herself and added that she's never seen a woman whose husband wakes up and goes to work while his wife is still sleeping, and who whiles away the entire day lounging about in bed and prattling foolishly like a child.

Umm Jaafar held her ground:"Your daughter is no different! It's as though you've given birth to both of them at the same time. Why do you blame the one and not the other?"

Umm Hasan wasn't comparing Maryama to Saleema, but rather to herself. She was convinced that her son wasn't lucky enough to marry a girl clever and efficient around the house. Even
though Umm Jaafar defended her by saying she's young, and that the young do learn, that they follow the example of their elders, imitate them, and benefit from their knowledge, Umm Hasan insisted that this Maryama is clumsy and stupid and doesn't want to learn a thing. She was exactly her age when she got married, but she was eager to gain the trust and admiration of her mother-in-law. She followed her around like her shadow, observed her, imitated her, and worked hard at sweeping and dusting, washing the clothes, and polishing the pots and utensils until they shone like mirrors. She stood next to her mother-in-law in the kitchen or sat next to her, never taking her eyes off of her as she observed closely how to prepare couscous, lamb stew with citrus fruit, chicken soup with dumplings, and meat and spinach pies. Even though she learned many different recipes from her own mother and aunts, she was nonetheless eager to learn new things, and it wasn't long before Umm Jaafar grew to depend on her to prepare many dishes. She was exactly Maryama's age when she mastered the arts of jerking meat, disemboweling a newly slaughtered sheep, salting fish, and pickling olives, lemons, and eggplants. She learned quickly how to make different kinds of pies, with cheese, date or fig jam and syrup, and all the things that a house full of family and guests never did without.

A few days ago she noticed that the powdered soap they used to wash their hands after eating was running out, and she called out to Maryama and asked her to make some more. She didn't ask her to stuff a sheep, or to light a fire and knead dough and make bread. She simply asked her to make some hand soap, nothing more or less. Maryama responded, "Tell me how it's done, and I'll do it."

Umm Hasan was stunned at how stupid the girl was, but she decided to be patient. "You mix the lotus fruit with some dried thyme, rose petals, and a bit of dried lemon peel. Then add some sandalwood dust and a handful of nutmeg. That's all there's to it."

Maryama went into the kitchen but came out a dozen times to ask questions: where's the dried thyme, or the little mill to grind whatever needed grinding? She even came out to ask about the amounts. When Umm Hasan finally went into the kitchen to see
the soap her daughter-in-law was preparing, her faced contorted in anger and disgust. She was on the verge of dumping it all when Umm Jaafar came in and begged her not to hurt the girl's feelings. What would happen if she asked her to prepare a meal of couscous? She probably would have come up with a big glob of sticky semolina and raw meat! She couldn't for the life of her understand what Hasan saw in that girl. She wasn't pretty, talented, or skilled at anything besides prattling with Saleema!

Saleema's relationship with Maryama deepened by the day, compounded by the fact that Saleema was older than her sister-in-law by three years, thus giving her the role of the older sister. Maryama was sweet and pleasant, and she was perfectly happy in her role of younger sister. She felt great respect, if not pure awe, for Saleema's ability to open a book, stare into it, and decode the meanings of its mysterious words. She even was kind enough to talk to her about what was in it. And when Saleema suggested to her that she teach her how to read, Maryama's feelings turned to pure affection.

"Do you think I'll be good at it?"

"Why wouldn't you be good at it?"

Umm Hasan piped in:"My God, this is all we need!"

Now, added to their long talks and endless chatting were their daily lessons where Maryama would hold her slate and Saleema would sit in front of her and dictate letters and words, and then correct what Maryama had written.

Thus, while Umm Jaafar and Umm Hasan prepared the meals, cleaned the house, and did the laundry, the two girls sat in their places without moving a finger. Even when they weren't chatting or having a lesson, the two always sat next to each other, Saleema reading a book and Maryama knitting swaddling clothes for the babies they both were expecting.

Naeem spoke with his employer. "My friend is an excellent shoemaker. He learned the craft in Malaga. Then he came to Granada
and worked with a well-known cobbler, but when he found out his new patron was a sympathizer of the Castilians, he let it be known to Abu Mansour. Well, you know Abu Mansour's position on this matter, and so he invited him to leave the scoundrel and come and work at the bathhouse."