Marrying Ameera

by Rosanne Hawke

  ‘Very well, but you’ll need to wear a burqa if you leave the garden. I don’t want men seeing my wife’s face. The tribal men don’t understand Western ways.’

  I couldn’t hide my dismay. ‘I don’t have a burqa.’

  ‘Mrs Rahmet will lend you one until you can buy your own.’ He glanced at me. ‘I know you are not used to it but many women around here wear them of their own volition, like nuns used to wear habits. Here.’ He took his wallet from his pocket and gave me two thousand rupees.

  ‘That’s too much, surely?’

  He shrugged. ‘You may see an outfit you like. Those new shops are expensive, but they have the latest fashions from Karachi, I’m told.’

  So I was to be bought off. ‘Thank you.’

  If he was worried about me going without him, he didn’t show it. I used the phone in his office to call Rebekah. She could come with me the next afternoon. I would take the mobile with me and get in touch with Frank.

  The next day I stood in front of the mirror, donned the black burqa and pulled the chiffon veil over my face. I watched myself vanish. A faded shadow peered out at me. I managed to resist the urge to pull it all off again. I had disappeared in so many ways since I’d left home; this was just one more.

  Ibrahim was more at ease with me in a burqa. He even smiled at me and hummed as he drove to the aid agency office in Mansehra to pick up Rebekah. Then he took us to the bazaar.

  The first thing Rebekah said when we were alone was, ‘I’m surprised you wear a burqa.’ Then she apologised.

  ‘It’s okay,’ I said, ‘I’m surprised too.’ ‘You seem down today. Are you all right?’ I looked at my hands. The faded henna shouted joyfully that I was newly married. What should I tell her? She worked with Shaukat; would she repeat what I said?

  ‘I miss my mother,’ I said. It was the truth.

  ‘You’re so brave to travel so far to marry. You must love Shaukat so much.’

  I was silenced by her free use of his first name. So he had two standards: one for Westerners he met as part of his work and another for his wife. It was unfortunate for me that I was also Western.

  Mansehra had a huge sprawling marketplace and a few emporiums—the special shops Shaukat had referred to. I said I needed to go to the post office. Rebekah waited for me outside, and Ibrahim wasn’t far away either. I hesitated; everything I did would be reported back. But I mightn’t get another chance in a hurry.

  This time it took Frank four rings to answer. ‘Frank here.’

  ‘It’s me, Ameera.’

  ‘Where on earth have you been?’

  ‘I’m sorry, there’s no coverage at the house, and this is my first trip to the bazaar.’

  ‘Mansehra?’

  ‘How did you know?’

  ‘I visited your family—incognito, of course—and you have an admirer there.’

  ‘I do?’

  ‘Young Asher. He told me exactly where your husband’s clinic is at Oghi.’

  ‘He won’t tell his father?’

  ‘Doubt it.’ He chuckled shortly, then his voice became businesslike. ‘Are you ready for us to get you out?’

  I hardly hesitated. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Tomorrow evening it is then. Have a bag packed.’

  ‘Be careful,’ I said. ‘There’s a security guard.’

  34

  The next evening when we sat at the table to eat, my backpack was hidden behind the door. I wore the shalwar qameez that I had come to Pakistan in and was surprised to find it a size too big. I wore Tariq’s necklace on my ankle. I’d left my wedding clothes and gold jewellery in the bedroom. I had to wear my wedding ring or Shaukat would notice, but I didn’t want to take anything else that I hadn’t brought with me.

  Mrs Rahmet had made the chai and left for her own quarters when it began to rain. I had hardly touched a thing at dinner and now my nerves jumped at a flash of lightning.

  ‘Aren’t you feeling well?’ Shaukat asked.

  His smiles were becoming confident again. He’d been sleeping downstairs but I knew he was just biding his time.

  ‘I’m fine. Shaukat…’

  I needed to say something to him, but what? I would never see him again. Yet surely he deserved something from me, this man Papa had chosen for me. He may have been a good man, as they all said, but Meena was wrong: if Papa had let me choose, I wouldn’t have chosen Shaukat. I had wanted a different life: one where I could choose, which I could share with a man my own age, be myself. I had almost forgotten who that person was.

  Shaukat raised his eyebrows. ‘Hmm?’

  ‘I…I just wanted to say that I appreciate what you’ve tried to do, to help me settle. It’s been such a shock, coming here, getting married. You have tried to be kind.’

  The memory of that awful night edged into my mind. It strengthened my resolve to leave.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said but his tone was wry. I guessed it wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

  It was then we heard the shout outside. A shot. The gates opening. A vehicle driving in, tyres squealing. The front door burst open and the security guard was marched in by two policemen. ‘I’m sorry, Sahib, they say they have authority.’

  Shaukat jumped to his feet; his chair clattered behind him on the tiles. ‘What’s going on?’

  A Western man the same age as Shaukat was with them. He saw me. ‘Ameera Hassan?’

  ‘Frank.’ I recognised his voice; he was shorter than I’d imagined, but muscled like an SAS soldier.

  ‘You know this man, Ameera?’ Shaukat couldn’t suppress his rage; his eyes glittered.

  Then I saw Riaz and Tariq. They came for me? I didn’t trust myself to meet Tariq’s gaze. How had the embassy let him come? But this was Pakistan, anything could happen. I stood and put my dupatta over my head.

  Shaukat addressed Frank. ‘Would you mind telling me why you have broken into my home? I’ll be reporting this.’

  He said the last part in Urdu and swept his gaze over the police. They lowered their eyes. He had influence; would they still go through with it?

  The older policeman turned towards me and intoned, ‘Ameera Hassan Zufar, do you testify that you were forced into a marriage with this man, Shaukat Iqbal Iman?’

  Shaukat turned to me as if he expected me to deny it.

  There was no joy in my answer. ‘Yes.’

  ‘You did not willingly give your permission?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Ameera—’ I couldn’t bear to see the horror on Shaukat’s face.

  Frank turned to Shaukat. ‘Did you take Ameera Hassan Zufar in marriage knowing she was being forced?’

  The rage was gone; Shaukat was stunned.

  I cut in. ‘Excuse me, he didn’t know. My father deceived him.’

  Riaz made a noise and Frank held his hand out behind him. He would have discovered already how hotheaded Riaz was. I glanced at Tariq; he was watching me with such pain on his face that I looked away.

  Realisation finally dawned on Shaukat’s face: he had recognised Riaz. Did he guess who Tariq was? He stared at me and his shoulders slumped; his eyes were dark hollows. ‘Ameera, don’t do this. You don’t understand. This will affect the whole family, not only you and me. And you are safe with me—you won’t be if you leave.’

  He came around the table towards me, but a policeman stepped in front of him.

  ‘Your father won’t bear this. Haider will find you before you leave the country. A runaway bride is a dishonour he’ll have to avenge.’ His voice had risen and I didn’t like to see him like that; his cultured poise had slipped.

  He appealed to Riaz. ‘If you love your sister, don’t do this. He’ll kill her. She’ll have a good life with me, I can give her anything. You know this, Riaz.’

  But Riaz, with his Australian girlfriend, was in no mood to listen to Shaukat. He moved forward to stand near me. ‘Sign the paper,’ he said.

  I sensed Frank’s impatience but I needed to explain. ‘I’m sorry, Shaukat, but it isn’t right
. I want to go home.’ My voice squeaked to a stop; this was too hard.

  ‘But why?’ he said. ‘We’re married now. What life can you have if you leave, a runaway bride?’

  I heard an exclamation behind me—was it Tariq?

  Shaukat tried again. ‘We can live in Australia if that’s what you want.’

  Frank gave a signal with his head and the older policeman stepped forward. ‘Shaukat Iqbal Iman, knowingly or not you have participated in a forced marriage. This is an offence according to the government of Pakistan and we have the authority to remove Ameera Hassan from your home.’ He waved a paper in front of Shaukat.

  Riaz handed me a pen and guided my hand to the page in front of me. Yet again the form was in Urdu. There was a sticker with my name on it to show me where to sign. I signed more willingly than I had my marriage papers. Even if I had wanted to hug Shaukat to show I was sorry, I couldn’t, for Riaz had taken hold of me. One thing I could do: I took off the ring Shaukat had put on my finger at the wedding and set it carefully on the paper.

  ‘Ameera—’

  I never saw how they got Shaukat to sign for Riaz guided me out of the room. I could hear Shaukat shouting as Riaz picked up my backpack. ‘Riaz! Can you keep her safe now? Ameera! You’re my wife! Ameera!’

  I slumped against my brother, but it was Tariq who lifted me into his arms. His eyes were as dark and warm as I remembered. My own eyes filled with tears at the enormous thing I’d done and I hid my face in his coat as he carried me out into the rain. Now my life was ruined, but I chose to go back to Australia. I hoped Shaukat was bluffing and I could make a life for myself back home.

  It wasn’t until Tariq had put me in the back seat of an embassy car, next to a woman, that I began to shake. The woman was prepared with a blanket and a flask of sweet chai.

  I must have slept, for I woke when we arrived at a gate that was opened by security guards. I had the impression of high fences and barbed wire. It looked like a prison. The woman reassured me when she felt me stiffen.

  ‘This is a refuge for women like you,’ she said. ‘You are safe here. No one can come in.’

  I was shown to a room; it had the essentials and its own toilet and sink. It was all I needed. They let Riaz in to say good night. When he hugged me I shook with sobs.

  ‘It’s okay, Ames. You’re safe now.’

  ‘Am I?’ I pulled away. ‘Will I ever be free from the guilt? I’ve been so selfish. Now I’m a bad girl, a runaway bride. That’s all people will remember. They won’t know it was a forced marriage. And Papa—he’ll be so angry. He’ll lose everything.’

  ‘Are you talking about your dowry?’

  I fumbled in my pocket for a tissue. ‘Shaukat and Uncle Iqbal were giving Papa money for the business—that will all fall through now. He’s put so much money into the wedding, Jamila’s too. He’ll be bankrupt.’

  ‘Shit.’

  ‘I hadn’t thought properly about the whole family,’ I sobbed. ‘The dishonour. I’ve broken up the family.’

  Would Meena understand? Asher may, but how could Zeba? Then there was Aunty Khushida and Aunt Bibi. After all they’d done for me, they would feel so betrayed.

  ‘You’ve got me and Mum,’ Riaz said.

  ‘But Papa will be shamed. I love him—how could I do that to him? And Shaukat—I didn’t know he’d get so upset.’

  ‘Don’t forget what Dad did was illegal.’

  ‘Only governments think it’s illegal, not fathers and families.’

  ‘For what it’s worth, I think it’s illegal and I’m glad you’re out of it. Someone has to stand up for what’s right.’

  ‘But at what cost?’ I sniffed and stared up at him. ‘Riaz, what makes us different? Raniya wouldn’t have refused a marriage her parents had arranged.’ Though to be fair, Raniya’s parents would have chosen someone she wanted. ‘How come you can see the marriage was illegal and Papa couldn’t?’

  ‘He had a lot to gain by the look of it.’ Then Riaz stopped and looked at me, perhaps gauging how I’d take what he said next. ‘Sometimes I think Dad’s code of honour is overrated.’

  I gaped at him.

  ‘It’s a permissible way to save face, to take the law into his own hands. Maybe they had to do that years ago in the mountains, but not now. It makes parents too responsible for everything their kids do, forces them to control rather than guide by faith. What honour is there in a forced marriage?’

  I was too stunned to comment.

  ‘Maybe being born in Australia changes the equation,’ Riaz said. ‘I’m not so tied to the old culture like he is.’ He put his arm around me and we sank onto the bed. ‘When you said you loved Tariq—’

  ‘You understood.’

  He nodded. ‘I know what that feels like. I want to marry Cassie too.’

  ‘Poor Papa. He thinks Mum’s such a bad influence on us.’

  ‘Poor Papa nothing. He needs to get over himself. We’ve got half Mum’s genes. How could he not expect that by living in Australia we would want to have choices of our own? I understand where Dad’s coming from and I’ll stick by him, look after him when he’s old, but it’ll be because of my feelings for him, not a duty forced on me.’

  I heard an echo of Jamila in my ear: ‘You are so Western.’ I also heard the sob in Riaz’s voice. ‘Dad will feel shame because of what we’ve done, but he has to understand us too. This is your choice. You have a right to live a life without abuse.’

  ‘He didn’t mean it to be abuse,’ I said against Riaz’s shoulder. ‘He loves us.’

  Riaz sighed and pulled away. ‘Dad’s love is conditional.’

  I nodded. Lately I’d thought Papa’s love depended more and more on how I behaved.

  ‘But it’s the only love he knows,’ Riaz continued. ‘He was scared of losing you, Ames.’

  ‘How does he cope with you?’ I half-grinned at him.

  Riaz shrugged. ‘He turns a blind eye to me at the moment. What he knows about, he thinks I’ll grow out of.’ Then he turned to face me properly. ‘You are braver than me, Ames, and even if Dad disowns me because of this—it’s worth it to see you rescued. I know I haven’t been the best brother, but I couldn’t have lived with myself if I left you here knowing I could have helped.’

  I put my hand over his and thought how Bollywood movies always showed the bride being obedient and at the last moment her father relented and let her marry who she loved. But Papa wouldn’t listen.

  ‘It must be hard for Papa,’ I said. ‘He was brought up here and had to learn to live in Australia.’ I had always thought I was both Australian and Pakistani but now all I could think of was returning home.

  ‘You’ll feel better when you’re home,’ Riaz said. ‘Mum’s buying a unit. You can go to uni.’

  I shook my head. ‘I’ve missed the first round—they’ll have given my place to someone else.’

  ‘That’s where you’re wrong. Dad opened your letter and I got your number. Tariq accepted your preference on the web. You’re in at Adelaide uni, you start in March.’

  I wanted to feel excitement but it was just words. Riaz lay me down and pulled the covers up.

  ‘Everything will be okay, Ames, and I’ll help all the way. There’s Tariq too. I couldn’t have done this without him. Mum and I made sure Frank let him come along.’

  ‘He won’t want me now,’ I said.

  Riaz paused. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I was married, Riaz.’ I burst into fresh weeping.

  Riaz bent his forehead down to the pillow and was quiet awhile. ‘I know Tariq, give him a chance.’ Then he sat up. ‘Cassie slept with someone before she met me.’

  I was shocked he’d tell me. ‘Doesn’t that bother you?’

  He half-grinned. ‘Sure, I was upset at first but I’m not going to break up with her over it. It’s different in Australia. It doesn’t mean a girl has to be bad to do that. Cassie’s the greatest.’

  He patted my hair while I tried not to cry again. He was being k
ind, but nothing was all right like he said. I hadn’t realised I’d feel so bad, so ugly, so impure. I couldn’t bear to think how Tariq’s face would change when he found out. His parents wouldn’t want a runaway bride for a daughter-in-law.

  35

  They said I slept for two days. The embassy lady who’d helped in the rescue was called Nazreen. She poked her head into my room and waved a phone. ‘I have your mother on the line, would you like to speak with her?’

  I sat up so quickly I felt dizzy, but I reached for the phone.

  ‘Mum?’

  ‘Oh, thank God, what a relief. Are you okay?’

  ‘I’m fine. As fine as I can be.’ What else could I say? She was so far away.

  ‘When you disappeared for those weeks I thought we’d lost you. I thought the worst had happened.’

  I wondered what could be worse than what had happened. Then I realised that for Mum, my death would be the worst.

  ‘I nearly came over,’ she said, ‘but Frank said not to. So I sent Riaz and Tariq. Your grandfather paid their fares. They’ll bring you home, sweetheart.’

  Home. That was when I started to cry.

  She paused. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘I’m okay,’ I said but I couldn’t stop the sobs.

  ‘You’ll be with me soon.’

  ‘I can’t wait to see you, Mum.’

  I had wanted to talk to her for so long but now I couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t take hours. I guessed she understood because soon she ended the call.

  Nazreen must have been waiting outside the door; she came in and asked how I felt. Almost without hesitation I told her about Shaukat.

  ‘So he forced you?’

  I nodded. ‘Once. I’m not sure now why I left. If I stayed with Shaukat, Papa would be happy.’

  ‘You wouldn’t be though.’

  ‘Papa says happiness for oneself is a selfish Western attribute. He tried to beat it out of me.’ I met her quick glance. ‘Metaphorically. He says happiness only comes when we know we are submissive to God and doing His will. To Papa, my marrying Shaukat was doing God’s will.’

  ‘Do you believe that?’