“My favourite, I’ve had them for years so I don’t want you breaking them, you can have the rest, you’ll like them!” he said, sitting down.
The rest of that night with Ziad wasn’t good or bad. When we had sex there were no emotions or feelings between us. He didn’t attempt to kiss or cuddle me. It was just sex, and I was glad once it was over.
The celebrations continued for three days and it was a huge do! I couldn’t wait for it to be over because there were so many women in the house; I wanted to get to know who was who! Ziad kept telling me not to trust anyone except Umie Ayesha and Sofia, and I didn’t understand why because he wouldn’t tell me. Ziad didn’t talk much. He liked to sit and listen to music when he was in the room, which was fine by me because he had some good music. I started to explore on my own and find out who was who.
There was always someone willing to gossip! The house was five storeys high and housed three generations of his family. The first person I met was Ziad’s grandmother Dobia; she was his father’s mother and head of the house. She adored Ziad because he was her first born grandson and as soon as she met me she told me she felt a connection between us.
She was a very old lady who always sat in the same spot in the corner of a room on the second floor. She always had a blanket over her legs, and as I sat and chatted to her I noticed that everybody who approached to speak to her would kiss her on her head, or touch her knee with their hand and then kiss the hand they had touched her with, or both!
Dobia was a big lady who was waited on hand and foot. If she needed to move to go from room to room she would be aided by two women who held her either side. She had taken the title of ‘head of the house’ after her husband had died just a couple of years earlier. Although Ziad’s father, Nasser Ziad, was officially head of the house, being the first born son, he didn’t live in the village and everyone knew nothing got done without his mother’s permission. Dobia was known for her gentle nature and kind heart.
She had two living sons and four living daughters. Her eldest daughter Ayesha was a widow and now lived back home to take care of her mother and her brother, Nasser Ziad, paid for her financially. The other three daughters were married, two into the same village who were called Sofia and Noriya, and Funda who was married in Sanaa. The other son Ali and his wife, also called Dobia, lived in the same house.
Ali had a daughter from an African woman that he had brought back from Africa and was now living with him in the house, her name was Viyza and she was around 8 years old. She was also dark skinned like Ziad, another of the so called ‘Muhamasheen’. Although she was Ali’s daughter, his wife didn’t look after her; his sister Ayesha did. Ali’s wife was really pretty with fair skin and greyish eyes. Although grandmother Dobia only had five children, her late husband had many more living under the same roof; so did wife number two!
Wife number two was the total opposite of Dobia. She looked evil and would sneak around the house hiding behind doors like a witch and was always listening to people’s conversations and gossiping. She was about 20 years younger than Dobia and thin with a really red face. Her name was Humayrah and from the moment I saw her I didn’t like her! She had one daughter called Nashida, who was a young widow in her late 20s with a son about four years old.
Humayrah had three sons called Hussein, Ahmed and Mohammed who all still lived in the house. Mohammed lived there with his very tiny petite young wife, who only looked about 12 years old! She already had a baby boy and was again pregnant. The other two were still not married, although Ahmed was engaged. Then there was also wife number three!
Wife number three lived with her son and daughter in a tiny mud house that was joined to the side of the main house. She had married the grandfather only a few years before he died and was so hated by the family at the time she was not allowed to live in the main house. She was only in her late 20s when I met her. That meant he must have married her when she was very young, and he was really old because in a picture Ziad showed me of him before he died he looked like my Granddad! Her name was Ulfah and she had a daughter about eight years old from her first husband who had also died, and a son around two years old called Abdulla from Ziad’s grandfather. At the time she married the grandfather, she was apparently known for trying to find a rich old man to marry!
That’s why the family said they didn’t like her; they felt she was the one who had taken advantage of him in his old age. Since his father’s death, Nasser Ziad was the main provider for Ulfah and her children. He made sure they needed for nothing and Dobia and her children had become more accepting of Ulfah. Humayrah and her children still hated her and refused to speak or acknowledge her. Humayrah’s children would walk past their little brother when they saw him playing in the street, refusing to see him as their little brother!
I soon realised that none of the family got on; although they tolerated each other and pretended to be nice to each other because they lived in the same house, you could feel the tension! Dobia went on to tell me the reason the sisters believed I’d been looked upon with jealously from Humayrah and Nashida when they had opened the door and seen me the day of my revealing.
She told me that months earlier, Ziad’s family had approached another wealthy family that lived nearby and asked for their daughter’s hand in marriage for Ziad. She said they had been turned down because the father had said she was spoken for. I was told this young girl was beautiful and well sought after; her father was also a judge in the courts of Sanaa.
A while after, Humayrah approached the family for the same girl for her son Ahmed and her father agreed. Ziad’s family was furious because they believed they had been turned down because Ziad was black. They vowed to find a girl younger and more beautiful, that’s when Umie Ayesha saw me. She believed her mother-in-law was jealous that I was more beautiful than her future daughter-in-law. After hearing all the gossip about this family I’d been married into, I began to worry that I was going to have a hard time fitting in. I wasn’t wrong!
A few days after the wedding Umie Ayesha and Sofia took me to see the medicine women. I was hoping they had forgotten all about my grey hair since it was now dyed black and looking OK, but they were adamant I needed to have ‘the curse’ lifted! We were driven into the city of Rada’a which was about 15 minutes away. I was told it was to be kept a secret from the rest of the family; if anyone asked where we had been we should tell them we went shopping.
The medicine woman was a little old lady and we visited her at her house, which was a little mud house down a back alley. She sat me down and searched my hair, rummaging through it as if she were looking for lice, while the sisters told the story of what happened on my wedding day, and how my hair had turned white from the evil eye! Of course she agreed with everything they said, praising them for being so vigilant and bringing me to her so quickly! She mixed some horrible smelling herbs in a cup of water and forced me to drink it while they all sat and watched, making sure every drop was gone from the cup before I handed it back. Then she wrapped a bunch of other herbs in a little tiny round cloth and said I needed to carry them on me at all times. They stank! But Umie Ayesha shoved them down my top and into my bra, making me promise I would keep them on me at all times to keep me safe from the evil eye! I promised her I would, if this was all I had to do to keep them happy then I was willing to do it. Even if it did meant I’d stink!
There was never much communication between Ziad and me from day one. He would wake up in the morning and listen to his music while he got ready to go out. Then he would spend ages perfecting his look, matching his clothes to his shoes then his watches to his chains because he always wore a chain around his neck and one on his hand. On the other hand he wore his watch, and he loved his nice watches. He would moisturise his skin all the time and comb his hair every time he came back to the room. He had short afro hair and he had an afro comb that he carried with him everywhere.
If I wasn’t busy that morning helping with chores, I’d just sit by the window a
nd listen to his music, watching him dance along while he got ready. I was allowed to sit at the window as long as I wasn’t hanging out; it looked over onto the kitchen that was separated from the house and directly opposite our window that was also above the front door.
One morning about a week after we got married, whilst he was changing his clothes he took a big pile of money out of his pocket. “Here, that’s for you!” he said, handing it to me. I leant forward and took the money out of his hand. It was so much money!
“How much is it?” I asked, trying to count it myself.
“Oh, around three thousand!” he replied as he carried on getting ready.
“Do I need to do the shopping or something?” I thought maybe I had to do food shopping now that I was his wife. Why else would he give me so much money?
“It’s your money do what you want with it, I don’t know! Don’t women like to buy gold or clothes? Do what you want with it, I don’t care!” he laughed. I sat for a few minutes and thought. I’d never seen so much money before but now I had it in my hands, and he’s just told me I could do whatever I wanted with it.
“Can I send some to my sister?” I held my breath and looked to the floor, not wanting to hear his answer, and then found myself surprised when he did.
“If you want to, I don’t care!” he said, as he carried on dancing to his music.
Ziad would usually go to the city of Rada’a in the morning or just wander down into the village and hang out at the many shops that were down there. He would always come back around lunchtime with something for me, Umie Ayesha and his grandmother Dobia. I told him I liked to draw so he would bring me pencils and pads and bring us cakes or sweets. He didn’t talk much to the others in his family; he would just walk past them with his head down. Even with his uncles, he would always give one word answers and try to leave the house quickly to avoid them, or dash in and out of the room when he knew the coast was clear!
I tried my best to laugh and joke with him but I never got far. He preferred his own company. He would give me presents and money for no reason almost every day, but when I tried to have a conversation with him he would put his music on and lay back and close his eyes. When it came to sex he would just take what he wanted and I wouldn’t dare say no after seeing what happened to Farouse! There was never the slightest emotion between us. Sometimes he would be rough but not aggressive, and as soon as he finished he would push me aside and not want to speak, and that became our relationship.
The week after the wedding I was taught the chores of the house, and there were a lot! There were so many people living in the house that the wives took it in turn to do chores. It was done by rota. One day one would cook and the others would clean and do other chores, or take care of the animals, or have a day off.
They had many animals, including cows and bulls that needed to be fed by hand. We would have to wrap and tie straw, hay and dry bits of sugarcane together and sit to hand feed them. They would have to be fed twice every day! The family had the means and the money to have water delivered in a huge water truck that would pull up to the drive and then empty the water by hose pipe into big huge water tanks that were beside the house. One of the chores was transporting water from those tanks to other parts of the house.
There was a second kitchen in the house that was sometimes used when all the men were away working abroad. It was on the top floor and smaller than the kitchen outside. It had a huge water tank in it and we had to make sure it was always full so that we could use that water for drinking and bathing.
The big lawnmower noise that I had heard on my wedding day was an electricity generator. We were the only house in the village at that time to have one; they would turn it on at sundown and turn it off at bedtime.
The day I had to do the cooking was the worst; although I’d been taught basic cooking at Gran’s house, this was completely different! Ziad’s family were rich and they expected everything to be perfect! Umie Ayesha was my mentor and although she wasn’t supposed to, she helped me through everything and openly favoured me over her sister-in-law Dobia. Ayesha also helped me with my language because although I’d learnt so much and could speak really good Arabic by then, I was still making a lot of mistakes.
The other family members were taking delight in constantly pointing out all my little imperfections. She could see I was getting frustrated with the others constantly laughing at me; I was really trying to bite my tongue because I didn’t want to snap at anyone so soon into my marriage and I didn’t know how to argue well in Arabic. I had heard Ali’s wife and Mohammed’s wife a few days earlier have an argument and they really went at it! I wouldn’t have known how to argue like that!
My first argument was a disaster! It was the second time of doing my cooking chores and I’d been up since 4 am with Umie Ayesha by my side helping me cook. I had to make about ten breads in the clay oven and that was just for breakfast! At breakfast the men had their breakfast served in their rooms by their wives and then we all sat in the room with grandmother Dobia to eat our breakfast. Ali’s wife kept making fun of the shape of my breads, pointing out that they were funny shaped and not perfectly round like they should be, they were fat at certain ends and thin at others and not nice and smooth all the way through.
Umie Ayesha and grandmother Dobia were defending me, saying how well I’d done, but the others sat around laughing with Ali’s wife. I could feel my blood starting to boil as she picked up yet another piece of bread and ripped off a fat lumpy piece from the end and held it up to show everyone! I started to think of what I could say back to her to defend myself but I couldn’t think of anything! Then I remembered all the swear words Farouse had taught us. I leant over and snatched the bread out of her hand throwing it down on the plate.
“If you don’t like it go fuck yourself! You fat ugly whore!” I screamed.
I immediately knew I’d said the wrong thing when I could see everyone struggling to swallow their food and all eyes were on me! I looked around at everyone; I could see the look of satisfaction in Humayrah’s eyes knowing that I wasn’t so perfect after all!
“What? She started it!” I sulked.
Ali’s wife turned to her sister-in-law. “Are you not going to say anything?” she demanded.
“Muna, say sorry!” Umie Ayesha looked at me but I just stared at her, my head held high in defiance. “Now!” She raised her voice and I could see she was disappointed with me.
I stood up. “Soorrrrry!” I teased stubbornly, pulling a childish face while staring at Dobia, and then I turned and stormed out of the room and ran upstairs to my room where Ziad was eating his breakfast.
I could hear them arguing as I left the room and I knew I’d need to go back down and finish my chores but I needed to get out of there. As I ran into the room and slammed the room door behind me, Ziad could see I had tears in my eyes. I was angry with myself because I couldn’t stick up for myself properly and I’d let Umie Ayesha down.
He asked me what was wrong so I told him what had happened, but he just burst out laughing! He said he thought I’d stuck up for myself pretty good and that Dobia had it coming because he didn’t like her anyway. He told me to take no notice of them and just stick with Umie Ayesha; she would teach me everything I needed to know.
It wasn’t long after I got married that I got pregnant, but this time I just felt different and I couldn’t explain why. After a while I was being sick and showing signs of pregnancy, so the sisters decided to take me back to see the medicine women to make sure I was OK. The old lady touched my tummy and confirmed I was expecting. She made up yet another bag of herbs and sent me on my way. I was so happy and dying to get news to Yas to let her know.
Not long after I found out I was pregnant, Ziad’s Uncle Mohammed came back from shopping in Rada’a; it was early afternoon and I was sweeping at the front door. He told me he had bumped into Dad in Rada’a, Dad had invited him back to our village where he had given him ghat as a present. While there, Dad asked him to
pass on a message to me. My sister Yas had lost her baby; she had a miscarriage!
Mohammed looked shocked when I burst into tears and ran off. I ran upstairs to the room and straight into the arms of Umie Ayesha who was sat with her mother. I told her what her brother had said and asked her to explain to me what a miscarriage was? I told her my sister wasn’t just a little bit pregnant but she was really pregnant, she had a hard belly when I last saw her! She asked me how pregnant Yas was and I told her a few months before I got married.
“Oh the poor child,” she said. “Well, it means that her baby came out too soon and it wasn’t meant to be!” But that wasn’t what I wanted to know.
“No! I still don’t understand. Would it have hurt?” I asked. I was still confused as I continued to cry.
“No, she wouldn’t have been in pain; it would have just come out,” she said, trying her best to comfort me.
I tried to think back to when I thought I was pregnant with Mana’s baby and I was told I’d lost it. I was in pain but maybe that was just a bad period like Gran had said and I wasn’t really pregnant. I was sure I remembered hearing once that having a baby was like sneezing, and sneezing didn’t hurt! So Yas wouldn’t have been in pain!
That night Ziad told me he was going to Sanaa the next day for work. I begged him to take me with him; he said he couldn’t because he was going to be busy, but he promised to take me another time. He did promise to take a letter and some money to Yas from me. I sat down to count the money to send to Yas. I had a few thousand rials, which was a lot of money. I decided to split it between Yas, me and Nebat and with mine I would ask her to buy me gold from Sanaa and keep it with her for when we saw each other again; if she wanted to she could wear them. I started to write the letter on some paper that Ziad had bought me from the market.
Dear Yas. I’m very sorry about what happened to you, they told me your baby fell out of place!
A Father's Betrayal Page 22
