by Asen Djinah
At sunrise, one of the men called out the adhan – the call to prayer. The men lined up outside on the sand itself, while the women lined up inside the tent. Usually it was Abdul-Basir who led the prayers, being head of the tribe, however under the circumstances his younger brother Basim stepped forward. When the prayer was over, the women uncovered Zeynab’s face for everyone to have a final viewing. Aunt Salma made Nayila take one final look.
‘Remember your mother. She will be watching over you every day, but you won’t be able to see her. So have one last long look. Remember every part of her face and always keep the memory close to your heart. Be happy for her, since she is the lucky one among us to be meeting our Creator so soon,’ she told the girl.
Nayila found it difficult to control her sobs, with tears silently running down her face as she stared down at the peaceful and almost smiling face of her mother. She could not bear to think that this would be the last time she would ever see her.
‘I should be strong and be happy that ummi’s ordeal on earth is over,’ she thought, remembering her father’s words from earlier.
She knew it was not permitted to cry at funerals. Abdul-Basir and Basim also came into the tent to take one last look at Zeynab and say farewell. Nayila ran to her father and buried her face in his thawb and Abdul-Basir wrapped his arms around her tiny shoulders. Both realised that with Zeynab gone, they only had each other. Finally Salma covered Zeynab’s face and tied the shroud at the top of the head and at the feet. She beckoned the two brothers to take the body outside for the funeral prayer. A small stretcher had been made by tying interweaved palm fronds together with twine onto which the body was laid. The two brothers carried the improvised stretcher outside and placed it on the sandy ground.
The men formed two rows facing the corpse and the women stood in a third row, behind the men. Unlike normal prayers, the funeral prayer was performed standing up with an odd number of rows behind the corpse. Once again, Basim took the responsibility of leading the prayer and asked for forgiveness for any sins that Zeynab may have committed, as well as for all those who had passed away before her. After the prayer, the men stood in two lines facing one another and those at the end lifted the stretcher over their shoulders and passed it along. They then moved quickly to the front of the line to get another opportunity to carry the stretcher forward and this went on until they reached the burial place about six hundred yards away. Women and girls were not allowed to participate in the burial ceremony and stayed in camp. As they stood in front of the tent watching Zeynab’s body being carried away to her final resting place, they started ululating in a sad shrill note according to their tribal custom. Even Nayila, paying respect to her mother, ululated for the first time in her life, her bloodshot eyes now dry, having run out of tears.
A pair of strong men helped Abdul-Basir down into the grave. Only a close male member of the family, such as husband, son or brother was allowed to carry out this final task. With the help of two pieces of linen held by the men on either side of the grave, the shrouded body of Zeynab was gently lowered down. Her husband undid the head tie, revealing her face which he adjusted to make Zeynab face the House of God, the direction for prayer. Starting at the foot, Abdul-Basir placed the thick and strong palm fronds handed to him at an angle, with one end on the floor of the grave and the other resting on the opposite wall, creating a small recess for the corpse. As he layered the overlapping fronds, he made sure that the covering was sand-proof and strong enough to bear the weight of the sand once the grave would be filled in. With only the last bit remaining to be covered, Abdul-Basir was hoisted up and from above he placed the final few leaves to close the recess completely.
Everyone gathered around the grave as Basim recited verses from the Scriptures, ending with a duah – supplication to God for Zeynab’s soul to rest in peace and be granted access to heaven. Abdul-Basir led the way by throwing three handfuls of sand over the palm fronds. One by one, the men followed suit until the grave was completely covered. Basim uprooted a small bush nearby which he planted on top of the grave. The others picked the largest stones from the surrounding area and placed these over the grave to protect it from scavengers. Slowly, the men made their way back to camp, leaving Abdul-Basir alone at the head of the unmarked grave to pay his last respect and bid a final farewell to his wife.
Chapter 5
Acommunal breakfast laid out in the shade of the main tent awaited the men. A sombre atmosphere lingered among the tribe members as they ate in silence. It was always sad to lose a tribe member, but it was even more heart-breaking to lose someone as young as Zeynab. Nomads had a much higher mortality rate than those living in town due to their limited nourishment and the constant struggle to survive in the harsh environment. Although they endured and accepted their fate, they still felt the pain whenever they lost one of their own. After a while, Abdul-Basir joined them and everyone came over to offer their condolences, hugging him three times, cheek to cheek.
‘We surely belong to God and to Him we shall return,’ each one said.
As he sat down to eat, Abdul-Basir raised his right hand to make an announcement and everyone fell silent.
‘I will leave later today to go and visit Zeynab’s family to inform them of her passing,’ he declared gravely.
The first thought that immediately sprang to everyone’s mind was that it was too early and that their leader should rest for a few days before undertaking such a long journey. To be alone in the desert with one’s own thoughts after such a tragic event was not wise.
‘Brother, wait for a few days at least and get some rest – or send someone else in your place,’ Basim voiced everyone’s concerns.
‘It is only courteous that I should go personally. I took their daughter as wife with the promise to protect her. I should be the one to inform them of this tragedy and the sooner the better. It is only fair for them to know without delay of their daughter’s demise,’ Abdul-Basir replied adamantly.
‘Then why don’t you take some miswaks and your medicine box with you so that you can help people along the way,’ Basim suggested diplomatically.
‘That is a good idea,’ replied Abdul-Basir.
‘In that case, I will send someone today to collect and prepare a batch of miswaks and you can leave tomorrow at the earliest,’ Basim added.
Abdul-Basir was well aware that his younger brother had used a ploy to make him delay his departure but he did not mind.
‘I would like to formally declare that Basim will act as head of the tribe in my absence. After I leave, he will oversee the move to the next camp,’ he informed the gathering.
Everyone knew that Basim would make a worthy leader.
Following in his late father’s footsteps, Abdul-Basir had trained as a medicine man, specialising in dental hygiene. He would sell miswaks – or more often than not, give them away for free. As he travelled across the desert, he would stop at different villages and demonstrate to people its proper use. A miswak was a tooth-cleaning twig made from the Arak tree and Abdul-Basir’s miswaks were of the highest quality. Twigs of a quarter-inch thick were chosen and cut into pieces six inches long. The bark at one end would be removed with a knife and the fibrous centre chewed until bristles were formed. Teeth should be brushed with the bristled end in an up-and-down movement. As well as dislodging food and plaque between the teeth, the antibacterial properties of the Arak tree would even halt the progression of tooth caries and gum diseases. The bristled ends should be cut off every few days and the new end chewed to form new bristles. Abdul-Basir had also inherited an old pair of pliers from his father which he used to extract painful teeth, but only as a last resort. He carried a vial of clove oil as well as dried cloves, root ginger, fennel seeds, myrrh resin and various other remedies in his small wooden box. Usually he accepted whatever the poor people could afford as payment, but more often than not he offered his service for free since the poor nomads of the desert had nothing to give but their hospitality.
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p; Two days later, early in the morning, Abdul-Basir was finally ready to leave. His brother had saddled his usual camel, loaded with food bags. A second camel would carry the water-skins and the medicine box. How long the journey would take depended on the whereabouts of Zeynab’s family members. However Abdul-Basir knew the different campsites they would visit at this time of the year and was hoping to reach them within a week.
‘I plan to stay a week with Zeynab’s family and should be back in about three weeks’ time,’ he informed Basim.
Until the very last moment, Nayila hung on to her father’s hand in the hope that he would have a change of heart and take her along with him. When she had learned that her father was planning to visit her mother’s family, she had pleaded with him to let her come along. Abdul-Basir had categorically refused, saying that he didn’t know of their exact whereabouts and that it might be a long and arduous journey for the young girl.
‘Besides, you will meet the family later this year at our annual gathering for the festival after the fasting month,’ he told Nayila.
Resigned, Nayila watched forlornly as her father slowly marched into the desert until his tiny figure disappeared behind a sand dune in the distance.
‘Well, I have to follow ummi’s last wishes and look after the baby,’ she consoled herself as she headed towards Kulthum’s tent.
It was only when she saw the tiny baby being breastfed by Kulthum that it dawned upon the little girl that her father had not visited the baby before leaving. She suddenly understood why her mother had asked her to be the bridge between the baby and her father.
‘Abbi blames you for ummi’s death,’ she whispered softly to the baby as she picked her in her arms.
The tiny baby smiled in her sleep.
‘Oh, you are already playing with the angels. Well, once you are up and running I will be playing with you too. I will look after you, as ummi asked me,’ she promised.
‘Aunt Kulthum,’ she called out softly so as not to wake up her sister, ‘has the baby been given a name yet?’
‘No. We will have to wait until your father returns,’ Kulthum replied.
‘I would like to call her Nabila. If abbi doesn’t like the name, he can choose another one,’ Nayila said.
‘Nayila and Nabila, it’s actually a very good choice,’ Aunt Kulthum complimented.
Chapter 6
It was a very hot afternoon and Amel was feeling uneasy in her room, unable to sleep. Even Hayder, feeling the discomfort, had cut short his nap to join Asif in the courtyard where it was not as stifling. Amel was wearing only a thin cotton dress and had her hair tied up. She had a wet towel by her side which she used every now and then to wipe the sweat off her forehead and neck. Her hand went to her stomach to feel her bump. Ever since she became pregnant, she had been in awe at the tiny life growing inside her.
‘I can’t wait to see you, little one,’ she said, having grown into the habit of talking to the baby.
‘Soon, you will be big and I will be too heavy to move around,’ she added.
Eventually she dozed off, but was suddenly awakened by the sound of a female voice and laughter coming from the courtyard. Curious, she got up and was in the process of putting on her abaya over her dress when the curtain serving as a door to her room was brushed aside and in walked Nabila. Amel was utterly taken aback to see her younger sister standing in front of her.
‘What are you doing here?’ she asked, as she ran forward and embraced the teenager.
‘Oh Nabila, I’ve missed you so much,’ she added.
The two sisters held each other, eyes closed, savouring the moment. After some time, Nabila finally pulled herself away and looked at Amel with squinting eyes and laying on a hurt expression.
‘Okhti – Sister, I am so angry with you. Why didn’t you tell me sooner that I am going to be an aunt?’ she asked, moving her head from side to side pretending to be upset.
Amel could not reply so much was her surprise to see Nabila. She was still piecing together how her sister came to be here so unexpectedly. Hayder and Asif had deliberately not told her that they had sent for Nabila, for fear of disappointing Amel in case her sister could not come. On seeing Nabila right there in front of her, Amel realised how much she had missed her sister. The last time the two of them had seen each other was eight months ago, when Hayder and Amel went to visit the family for the annual festival.
‘Have you thought of a name yet? If I were you, I would choose both a boy’s and a girl’s name. Actually, ever since I learned that you are with child, I have been thinking about names and have some suggestions,’ Nabila babbled on.
‘Typical Nabila, she is always a breath of fresh air and a source of joy,’ Amel thought fondly.
‘Well, you can tell me later. First of all, how is abbi? And his eyes?’ she asked Nabila.
‘As you know, his eyesight has gone completely. Our step-mother takes good care of him and he is happy. He wanted to come too, but I told him that he can come after the baby is born. Me, I intend to stay here with you till then. It will be like old times again. Oh Okhti, you don’t know how much I have missed you too,’ Nabila replied.
‘And I can’t believe I am going to be an aunt,’ she added.
Holding hands, the two sisters sat down and exchanged news, with Amel wanting to know about each and every one from the tribe. Whenever the two sisters were together they never ran out of conversation. Nabila was accompanied by her older cousin Ahmed on her journey. Hayder and Asif had stayed outside in the courtyard, getting the latest news from Ahmed and left the two sisters alone to enjoy each other’s company.
Amel’s cheek muscles were hurting from laughing and smiling continuously ever since her sister had arrived. It soon became clear to her that Nabila was not aware of her pending court case. She could not bear to think how heart-broken her sister would be to learn that she had been accused of adultery. Despite this, she was over the moon to have Nabila here by her side. Her presence had always made her feel strong in a different way from Hayder’s. Whilst her husband was always protective towards her, with Nabila right from the moment she was born, Amel had to be the adult, the strong one, the one responsible for her well-being. Amel clearly remembered how their father used to keep away from Nabila, blaming her for his wife’s death. And she remembered how she had eventually brought the two together. Nabila was too young to remember her father’s aloofness. Thinking about that time, she realised that her childhood ended the day her mother passed away and her sister was born.
It was the liveliest dinner they’d had for a long time. Their cousin Ahmed would be staying for a few days before making the journey back to the tribe. Hayder was grateful for the presence of the two visitors, which broke the monotony of their usually quiet dinner. Seeing the effect of Nabila’s presence on Amel, he was glad that he had sent for her. He looked across at his wife and caught her laughing again – it had been a long time since he’d seen her happy and he had missed her smile which made her even more beautiful. As usual Nabila was her normal self, chatting away continuously – so much so that Amel had to tell her that her food was getting cold.
‘Amel and I are like two peas in a pod,’ Nabila carried on, ignoring her sister, ‘We even had similar names, Nayila and Nabila.’
Suddenly realising that she had uttered Amel’s previous name out aloud, she put her hand to her mouth in horror.
‘I should not have said that, in case it brings you bad luck, Okhti,’ she apologised to her sister.
Everyone knew of Amel’s previous name but would never dare say it out loud for fear it may cause Amel harm.
Chapter 7
When baby Nabila was about three years, Nayila first raised the matter with her father.
‘Abbi, it is time for Nabila to come and live with us now,’ she said as they were retiring for the night.
‘No, she is still too young and needs an adult to take care of her,’ Abdul-Basir replied curtly.
‘I can look after her,’ Nayil
a persisted.
‘You are far too young,’ her father replied with an impatient tone.
‘But I am twelve years old now,’ the girl pointed out.
‘I have already said no,’ Abdul-Basir raised his hand, indicating he did not wish to continue this conversation.
No one dared to argue with the head of the tribe and Nayila like everyone else kept quiet and did not insist. Wise for her age, she realised that her father was still not ready to have his youngest daughter around. She had not forgotten how her late mother asked her to be the bridge between her father and her younger sister and to bring the two together.
Little did Amel realise that every time Abdul-Basir looked at Nabila, she reminded him of Zeynab’s untimely death, causing the raw pain to resurface and torment him. Unaware of her father’s feelings, Nayila continued to pester him about the matter every so often, with Abdul-Basir steadfast in his refusal every time. With her mother gone, Nayila found it disheartening to sleep alone in the women’s section of the tent, even though on most nights she could hear her father snoring from the other side of the partition. She missed the warmth of her mother and the companionship of sharing the sleeping rug. She could not wait for her little sister to come and live with them so they could be a family again.
