The Pearl that Broke Its Shell (9 page)

Why haven’t they pulled these onions out?
Shekiba thought, and leaned over to get a closer look.

“Hey, Freidun! Look what she’s doing! Tell her not to touch the onions! They aren’t ready yet! This imbecile is going to ruin our lot!” It was Kaka Sheeragha, the skinniest and laziest of the group.

The leaves were brittle in her fingertips. She reached at the base and began to pull the bulbs from the earth.

Almost too late. They’re about to rot. No wonder our food tastes the way it does. God knows what they’re doing with the rest of the crops.

Kaka Freidun walked over and looked at the three onions she had already unearthed. Shekiba did not turn to look at him. He grunted something and then walked away.

“You didn’t say anything to her?” Sheeragha yelled out.

“Enough,” Freidun answered. “They’re ready.”

Sheeragha looked at his elder brother and bit his tongue. The men returned to the fields and grunted instructions at each other. They kept a distance from Shekiba but watched her from the corners of their eyes. She moved nimbly through the rows, her callused fingers weaving between the stems and yanking with just the amount of force needed to bring the bulb to the surface. She stopped only to readjust her head scarf.

But when she had finished one square area, the sun was beginning to set and it was time to prepare dinner. Shekiba resumed her post in the kitchen and was dismayed, but not surprised, to see that nothing had been done for the evening dinner. She quickly started a flame and set some water to boil. Khala Zarmina walked past her and peered into the dim room.

“Oh, there you are! I was just about to boil some rice for dinner but I see that you’re here now. I’ll leave it up to you, then. I just hope you’ll clean your hands well—they’re filthy.”

Shekiba waited till Zarmina had walked away to let out a heavy sigh. How she wished she would have died on the cold floor of her own home, before her uncles had found her.

J
umaa prayers had just ended. Her uncles were returning home from the small
masjid
in town.

“Children, outside. We are speaking with your grandmother,” Kaka Freidun snapped. Shekiba watched her cousins scamper out of the main living room. Kaka Sheeragha looked at her and seemed to be considering something. He followed his brothers into the living room.

Shekiba pretended to walk back into the kitchen with the clothes she had gathered from the clothesline. Before she reached the kitchen, she stopped and sat on the floor to fold the clothes. From there, she could hear some of what her uncles were saying.

“We need to settle this debt. Azizullah is losing patience with us. He says he’s waited long enough.”

“Hmm. What exactly were his demands?”

“I spoke with him in the village two weeks ago and he told me that he is in need of a wife for his son. He wants one of the girls from this family.”

“Is that what he said?”

“Well, he said that there is a debt to settle. And that he was thinking of it more these days because he wants to secure a wife for his son.”

“I see.” Bobo Shahgul’s voice was sharp, matter-of-fact. “How old is his son?”

“His son is ten.”

“He still has time.”

“Yes, but he wants to arrange the matter now.”

I could hear Bobo Shahgul tapping her walking stick on the floor in thought.

“Then we need to arrange a deal with him.”

“Zalmai, your girls are the right age. Maybe one of them. The older one. She’s eight, isn’t she?” Kaka Freidun’s voice was unmistakable.

“Sheeragha’s daughter is the same age. And your daughter is the same age as Azizullah’s son. She would be a good match as well and would settle our debts sufficiently.”

“Freidun’s got more girls than anyone. It makes sense to give one of—”

“I don’t think it is necessary to send one of the girls.”

There was a pause as Bobo Shahgul’s sons waited for her to explain.

“We will offer Shekiba.”

I am not one of the girls.

“Shekiba-
e-shola
? Are you joking? He’ll take one look at her and come after us demanding twice what we owe! To offer Shekiba will offend him, for sure!”

Shekiba closed her eyes and pressed the back of her head against the wall.

Your name means “gift,” my daughter. You are a gift from Allah.

“Zalmai, I want you to speak to Azizullah and tell him that his son is still young. God willing, he and his father have long lives ahead of them with plenty of time to arrange for a suitable marriage. Tell him it would be more useful for them to have someone who can help them at home now. Tell him a happy wife bears more sons. Then you can offer Shekiba.”

“But what if he says no?”

“He won’t. Just be sure to tell him that she is very capable. That she has the back of a young man and can manage a household. She is a reasonable cook and she keeps quiet, now that she’s been tamed. Tell him that it is an honorable thing to take in an orphan and that Allah will reward him for bringing her into his home. She will be like a second wife without the price.”

“And what about the work she’s doing here? Who will do that?”

“The same lazy women who were doing it before Shekiba came here!” Bobo Shahgul snapped. “Your wives have been spoiled. They have taken to lying about, drinking tea and making my ears ache with their chatter. It will be good for them to get back on their feet. This is a home, not the royal palace.”

The brothers grunted. Would Azizullah really take the offer? they wondered. Better to try than to argue on whose daughter would be given as a bride otherwise.

“Say nothing to your wives now. No need to go stirring the henhouse yet. First let us discuss matters with Azizullah.”

Shekiba picked herself up from the floor and hurried into the kitchen before her uncles emerged. She couldn’t help but be thankful her parents were not alive to hear this conversation. She felt a tear well in her right eye.

That is the problem with gifts, Madar-
jan
. They are always given away.

CHAPTER 9

A
zizullah took the deal.

Shekiba-
e-shola
packed her two dresses.

“Do not do anything that will bring shame to this family.” Her grandmother’s farewell to her was unceremonious.

Shekiba did something she never thought she would do. She lifted her
burqa
from her face and spat at her grandmother’s wrinkled feet. A wad of saliva landed on her walking stick.

“My father was right to run from you.”

Bobo Shahgul’s mouth gaped as Shekiba turned and began walking toward her uncle, who was to escort her to Azizullah’s home.

She knew it was coming but she did not care.

She also knew Khala Zarmina was watching. And smiling.

The walking stick came down on her shoulders twice before her Kaka Zalmai raised a hand to block his mother’s revenge.

“Enough, Madar-
jan,
I cannot take the beast to Azizullah crippled. Her face is bad enough. If he sees her hobbling surely he will turn us down. Let Allah punish her for her insolence.”

Shekiba kept her shoulders up and did not falter. She did not know what lay ahead for her but she knew she could not return to this home. She had closed this door for sure.

“You wretched creature! Allah in all His wisdom has marked your face as a warning to all! There is a monster within! Ungrateful, just like your despicable mother! Do you ever wonder why your entire family is gone, buried under the ground? It is you! You are cursed!”

Shekiba felt something rise within her. She turned slowly and lifted her
burqa
again.

“Yes, I am!” Shekiba smirked and pointed a finger at her grandmother. “And with Allah as my witness, I curse you, Grandmother! May demons haunt your dreams, may your bones shatter as you walk and may your last breaths be painful and bloody!”

Bobo Shahgul gasped. Shekiba could see the fear in her eyes. She stared at her granddaughter’s portentous face and took a nervous step back.

Kaka Zalmai slapped her face with a mighty backhand. Even the deadened nerves on the left side of her face stung with his blow.

Clever,
she thought as she tried to catch her balance.
Won’t leave a mark there.

He tightened his fingers around her arm and dragged her away from the house.

“We are leaving. Madar-
jan,
I’ll be back when I have gotten rid of this monster. Samina, help my mother back into the house!”

Shekiba had no trouble keeping up with her uncle’s pace. She kept two steps behind and played the scene over and over again in her mind. Had she really done that? Had she really said those things?

Her
burqa
hid a lopsided smile.

They walked the four kilometers to Azizullah’s home in silence. Kaka Zalmai occasionally looked back and muttered something that Shekiba could not make out. They passed through the village Shekiba had not seen since early childhood. The shops looked more or less the same and there were a handful of people walking about, blue
burqas
following men dressed in loose flowing pants and long shirts.

As they moved further from her family’s land, Shekiba wondered if she had done the right thing. What if she found herself alone again? What would she do? But she knew. She would do what she had intended to do months ago.

I will find a way back to our land and bury myself with my family,
Shekiba resolved.

Azizullah’s home was large in comparison to Bobo Shahgul’s. And when she discovered that only Azizullah, his wife and four children lived in it, she was astonished. Azizullah had been given the home by his father, who had been a relatively wealthy man by village standards. Today, Azizullah made his living as a man of commerce. He bought and sold anything that was of any value to anyone. He made trades and loaned money as needed. He knew everyone in the village, but more important, everyone knew him. His family was well connected, with two brothers in the military service.

It was Azizullah himself who answered the outer gate.

The men shook hands and exchanged pleasantries. Shekiba stood just behind her uncle, feeling invisible.

Azizullah was a burly man who looked to be in his thirties. He wore a brown lambskin hat of rippled fur that sat snugly on his head. His eyes were dark and he had a thick but neatly trimmed beard. His clothes and hands looked clean.

He does not look like a working man,
thought Shekiba.

“Please come in, Zalmai-
jan
. Join me for a cup of tea.”

Kaka Zalmai accepted the invitation and followed Azizullah into his courtyard. Shekiba stood behind, not sure what she should do, until she saw her uncle shoot her a look. She took a step into her new home. The men went into the living room but Shekiba thought it best if she remained outside. She stood with her back to the wall, her shoulders now starting to ache where Bobo Shahgul’s walking stick had come down on her earlier. Again, a smile beneath her
burqa
. Nearly twenty minutes passed before she was summoned into the living room by her uncle.

“This is Shekiba, Azizullah-
jan
. You will see that, as we told you, she is a very hard worker and is sure to prove useful in your home. I trust your wife will be pleased with her.”

“Zalmai-
jan,
we have lived in this village for many years and Shekiba
-e-shola
is no secret. I had heard of her scars before your brother spoke of it. Now I want to see exactly what it is that I am bringing into my home. Have your niece show her face.”

Kaka Zalmai looked in Shekiba’s direction and gave her a nod. His eyes warned her against disobeying. Shekiba took a deep breath, lifted her
burqa
and braced herself.

His reaction came slowly. At first, he saw only the right side of her face. Her high cheekbone. Skin with the delicacy and color of an eggshell. Her dark iris and naturally arched brow caught Azizullah by surprise. The infamous monster was half-beautiful.

But as Shekiba turned her face, her left side came into view. She moved slowly, deliberately—anticipating a response. It suddenly occurred to her that Azizullah could be so repulsed as to send her back to her grandmother’s house. She held her breath, unsure what to wish for.

Azizullah’s brows wove together.

“Impressive. Well, no matter. For our purposes, her face is insignificant.”

Insignificant?

“She has no other illnesses? Does she speak?”

“No, Azizullah-
jan
. Aside from her face, she is healthy. She speaks but not enough to pester you. She should be an unobtrusive addition to your household.”

Azizullah stroked his beard. He took a moment to contemplate and then made his final decision.

“She will do.”

“I am so happy that you see things this way, Azizullah-
jan
. You truly are a very open-minded person, may God grant you a long life.”

“And you, my friend.”