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An Incident in the Ghobashi
Household 1
Zeinat woke to the strident call of the red cockerel from the
rooftop above where she was sleeping. The Ghobashi house
stood on the outskirts of the village and in front of it the fields
stretched out to the river and the railway track.
The call of the red cockerel released answering calls from neighboring rooftops. Then they were silenced by the voice
of the muezzin from the lofty minaret among the mulberry
trees calling: 'Prayer is better than sleep.'
She stretched out her arm to the pile of children sleeping
alongside her and tucked the end of the old rag-woven kilim
round their bodies, then shook her eldest daughter's shoulder.
'It's morning, another of the Lord's mornings. Get up, Ni'ma -- today's market day.'
Ni'ma rolled onto her back and lazily stretched herself. Like
someone alerted by the sudden slap of a gust of wind, Zeinat
stared down at the body spread out before her. Ni'ma sat up
and pulled her djellaba over her thighs, rubbing at her sleep-
heavy eyes in the rounded face with the prominent cheek-
bones.
'Are you going to be able to carry the grain to the market,
daughter, or will it be too heavy for you?'
'Of course, mother. After all, who else is there to go?'
Zeinat rose to her feet and went out with sluggish steps to
the courtyard, where she made her ablutions. Having finished
the ritual prayer, she remained in the seated position as she
counted off on her fingers her glorifications of Allah. Sensing
that Ni'ma was standing behind her, she turned round to her:
'What are you standing there for? Why don't you go off and
get the tea ready?'
Zeinat walked towards the corner where Ghobashi had
stored the maize crop in sacks; he had left them as a provision
for them after he had taken his air ticket from the office that
had found him work in Libya and which would be bringing
him back in a year's time.
'May the Lord keep you safe while you're away, Ghobashi,'
she muttered.
Squatting in front of a sack, the grain measure between her
thighs, she scooped up the grain with both hands till the
measure was full, then poured it into a basket. Coughing, she
waved away the dust that rose up into her face, then returned
to her work.
The girl went to the large clay jar, removed the wooden
covering and dipped the mug into it and sprinkled water on
her face; she wetted the tips of her fingers and parted her
plaits, then tied her handkerchief over her head. She turned to
her mother:
'Isn't that enough, mother? What do we want the money
for?'
Zeinat struck her knees with the palms of her hands and
tossed her head back.
'Don't we have to pay off Hamdan's wage? -- or was he
cultivating the beans for us for nothing, just for the fun of hard
work?'
Ni'ma turned away and brought the stove from the window
shelf, arranging the dried corn-cobs in a pyramid and lighting
them. She put it alongside her mother, then filled the teapot
with water from the jar and thrust it into the embers. She
squatted down and the two sat in silence. Suddenly Zeinat
said:
'Since when has the buffalo been with young?'
'From after my father went away.'
'That's to say, right after the Great Feast, daughter?'
Ni'ma nodded her head in assent, then lowered it and began
drawing lines in the dust.
'Why don't you go off and see how many eggs have been
laid while the tea's getting ready.'
Zeinat gazed into the glow of the embers. She had a sense of
peace as she stared into the dancing flames. Ghobashi had
gone and left the whole load on her shoulders: the children,
To be continued |
