Clutching their abayas, Khadja and her daughters muttered to each other in irritation. Jamila was certain they were talking about her. She was very unsure about this afternoon. Her son was too young to get married, she felt, but she was unable to express her opinion freely, especially to her mother-in-law.
Naturally apprehensive about the visit of the Chalabi women, Bibi prayed that her mother’s quiet manner wouldn’t turn the day into a disaster. But, to her immense relief, Rumia presented the visitors with a feast of a tea, dazzling them with her culinary talents and her natural elegance. She had used her skills in the marketplace to obtain goods that were now in short supply, owing to the military’s requisitioning of fresh produce. Saeeda had also proved invaluable, scouring the main square for ingredients. Back home in her kitchen, Rumia had prepared a variety of sweet pastries and stuffed bread, which she served on the delicate silverware her late husband had bought during his travels many years earlier.
A woman in an abaya walks by the river.
Khadja and her middle daughter, Amira, did most of the talking. Amira took after her mother, and rumour had it that she wore the trousers in her marriage. During the years that her husband Uzri was in prison, time had spun her misery into anger, which threaded its way through everything she said. An eccentric woman, she had a great dislike of the cold, and took to her bed in November each year, rising only in April once the weather had warmed up. During that time she received visitors in bed, had her meals there and continued to run the household from her bedroom. Her husband’s incarceration had compromised even this ritual, and she commiserated with Rumia on the hardships of living without a spouse.
The Chalabi women were impressed by Rumia’s elegant presentation, and the delicacies they ate sugared their moods. They exchanged glances with each other. Khadja even let slip a smile when she saw the trays of sweets, which were covered with delicately embroidered doilies and decorated with freshly cut rosebuds.
Custom dictated that Bibi remain absent from the room until near the end of the women’s visit, when she could come down to greet them. Having worried all morning about her appearance and fussed over what to wear – opting in the end for a dress in turquoise, that most regal of colours – after an hour Bibi couldn’t wait a moment longer. She knew her fate was being decided as the guests chatted away in the drawing room, and decided to stand behind the door, eavesdropping, until she was sent for.
She became engrossed when Khadja spoke effusively of her grandson Hadi, his good looks and his excellent prospects. Although there had not yet been an official proposal of marriage, the old woman could not help letting Rumia know of the great honour she, Khadja, was bestowing on her with this association.
The door Bibi was leaning on was suddenly pulled open, as a maid came out with a tray of empty tea glasses. Unbalanced, Bibi stumbled into the room. Rumia closed her eyes and covered her mouth in shock and embarrassment, terrified that this display of bad manners might spoil her daughter’s chances of marriage.
The visiting party stared at each other in surprised disapproval, until Bibi’s aunt Fahima chirped up, ‘Ah, you’re here, my dear! I was about to come and get you. Come and meet Khadja Khanum [lady or madam] and Jamila Khanum, and Hadi’s aunts.’ The three aunts pursed their lips in unison, not amused to be introduced after the wretched Jamila.
Bibi desperately willed herself to look demure, and focused very hard on the flower-patterned carpets covering the floor. Her cheeks glowed from embarrassment, although she was by no means a naturally timid girl. But this occasion was different: she had heard of Khadja’s viciousness, and knew that the matriarch had the power to make or break this union. So the best course of action for her was suddenly to become shy. As she greeted each of the Chalabi women she was aware of their scrutinizing eyes roaming over every inch of her, and she silently recited a short verse from the Quran in the hope that it would temporarily blind them when they reached her neck, lest they see how short it was. If there was one thing she really envied her mother, it was her long, thin neck – that, and her height. Rumia was tall and graceful; Bibi was not. As all these thoughts tumbled through her mind, Bibi was so nervous that she nearly forgot to breathe.
When she finally approached Hadi’s mother, Bibi felt some relief. Jamila was warmer to her than the other Chalabi women had been, and asked her to sit next to her, complimenting her on her silk dress. Bibi missed the dark looks exchanged between Khadja and her daughters. However, the tension was broken when another tray of walnut pastries appeared.
Walking back home, Shaouna declared to the others that Bibi was going to be quite a handful. She turned to Jamila and said snidely, ‘You won’t be able to control her. She’ll walk all over you.’ Jamila didn’t reply, but her sisters-in-law started to laugh. Jamila could feel herself burning from all the anger she had stored up inside from the day she had married; she had never yet heard a kind word from any of these women. Her silence irritated them, but so did her words on those rare occasions when she had dared to answer back. Today, she kept her own counsel; she liked Bibi.
After the visitors had left, Bibi asked her mother what she thought of the Chalabis. Rumia was not very forthcoming; she told her that they seemed decent enough, but that it didn’t do to rush into such an important thing as marriage. Bibi was upset by what she took to be her unenthusiastic response. Her mind ran away with her as she imagined what her life would be like as an unmarried spinster stuck in her mother’s house.
The prospect was very bleak. She would always be at the mercy of her grandfather, her uncle or her brothers, and, worse, her brothers’ wives after they married. She would never be able to have a house of her own, or do anything with her life. Everyone would pity her if she was denied the one role that all women were born to take on: that of wife and mother. She burst into tears. She would rather die than end up alone. Hadi has got to marry me, she told herself, he has to!
A few days later, with Khadja’s final blessing and Hadi’s consent, Abdul Hussein paid Bibi’s grandfather Sayyid Nassir a visit to ask for her hand in marriage on behalf of his son.
After Abdul Hussein had left, despite his weathered bones Sayyid Nassir wasted no time in rushing to find Rumia and share the good news. Bibi burst into the room. ‘What is it, Jiddi?’ she asked excitedly. ‘What did the Chalabis want?’ She knew their business of course; what terrified her was the possibility that they had found her wanting. Her grandfather calmly explained that they had come to ask for her hand for their son Hadi.
‘Yes, yes, I accept!’ Bibi grinned. ‘He’s the one with the blond hair and the blue eyes, isn’t he? I saw him once in the market and then another time during a procession at the shrine.’
Rumia was mortified that Bibi could talk to her grandfather with such a lack of respect; she reprimanded her, and Bibi rolled her eyes. Choosing to ignore the look on her daughter’s face, Rumia continued, ‘If you say the boy is of good character …’
‘I believe he is, and I will ask around. You don’t have any objections in principle?’
Before Rumia had time to reply, Bibi butted in, ‘Why should she, unless she wishes me to stay facing her all my life?’
Her grandfather looked at her and said tenderly, ‘All that is good will happen. Have faith.’
Bibi was sleepless from excitement and anxiety. It was a few days before her wedding day and she was worried, although she knew that Rumia had done her best to take care of the elaborate preparations needed to ensure that she went to her new home with all that was required.
Creating the trousseau had proved to be quite a production, from buying the material for Bibi’s new clothes and furniture, to finding seamstresses and embroiderers, to getting the best mattress upholsterer. Locating the necessary wares had been complicated by the wartime shortages, and Bibi was concerned that Rumia had dealt with the details with her usual degree of detachment. Her interest in earthly things was limited, and her enthusiasm