“I would like to invite your friends the soldiers,” Sidiq announced. “Do you think they will come?”
“Well, if I get a chance, I’ll ask them,” Elsa responded. She wasn’t sure if Mike would come; she hadn’t seen him in over two weeks, since the day he’d brought the child to the clinic. She wasn’t sure if he was off in another firefight or if he just didn’t want to see her.
Unable to concentrate on her work, Elsa breathed a sigh of relief the morning she heard a jeep pull into the clinic drive. She knew without looking who it was, and she hurried to the gate.
Mike was covered in dust and dirt, his hair unkempt and a new beard sprouted along his jawline. Fatigue was evident in the slump of his shoulders, but the sparkle in his blue eyes was as bright as the day she’d seen him lift young Syed onto his shoulder. Her heart quickened at the sight of him.
“Oh, Mike, it’s so good to see you. I was worried.” She tugged nervously at her head-scarf.
Mike’s face brightened. “I thought you might not want to see me so I stayed away. I even volunteered for another assignment.”
Elsa felt her own shoulders sag. “I was worried that you might not want to see me.” She looked around and then took his hand. “Come sit on the wall with me. I need to tell you something.”
“Elsa.” His eyes darkened as she spoke. “If you want to tell me it’s over, just say it here.”
“No, Mike, that’s not it at all.” She pulled herself onto the wall and patted the place beside her.
Mike leaned warily against the heavy stones, his feet kicking at loose gravel. “Just so we’re straight on one thing, Elsa, I’m a soldier—at least for now. I won’t be apologizing for that.”
“Oh, Mike, I don’t want you to apologize. I need to. I… I’m sorry, really sorry. I know you’re a good man, a good soldier. I was so damn mad that day when you said you’d shoot Hamid if you had to, I couldn’t get past those words. I didn’t take the time to try to understand what it must be like for you.” She adjusted her head-scarf and looked into his eyes. “I should have asked if you’d save Hamid, if you’d protect him from the Taliban, as well.”
“You know I would, Elsa. I’m a soldier. I’m here to get the bad guys but I’m also here to protect the good guys.”
She sighed, relief washing over her. Deep down, she’d known that would be his answer.
“But,” he said, “I am still a soldier. Can you live with that? For now?”
She wanted to kiss him, but there were people around, so she kissed her own fingertip and drew it across his lips. “I can learn,” she answered, “I can learn.”
Mike smiled broadly. “I have to tell you, I was afraid to come here. Dave made me, told me to get off my sorry ass and just see you. I’m going to have to buy that man a beer one day.”
“Well, you can’t buy beer here, but would he settle for tea? Amina is getting married, and we’re all invited. I hope you’ll come—you and Dave.”
“I wouldn’t miss it. I gotta go back and clean up, but I’ll see you real soon, Elsa.”
She felt as though she were floating. She knew he was still in danger, that he still saw everyone and everything here differently than she did, and she also knew he would shoot if he had to. But after her run-in with the men on the road, she kind of understood why he saw things differently. Somehow, she’d learn to live with the rest.
With wedding plans in motion, Rashid’s little house underwent a startling transformation. Separate rooms were set up for men and women, who would celebrate apart from one another. The house was swept and dusted, sleeping pads were washed, chickens and goats were shooed outside, and special plates and cups were rubbed till they shone.
The day before the wedding, Elsa and Parween washed Amina’s flowing hair and prepared a warm bath for her. She sat in Elsa’s little washroom and scrubbed off the years of grime that she had worn like an extra layer of skin. She slathered Elsa’s creams and lotions over her body and then generously sprayed herself with perfume.
Elsa and Parween stood just outside the washroom and were overpowered by the scents that wafted out. Parween shouted, “Enough, bas, they can smell you in Mashaal!”
The three women were joined by Amina’s sister-in-law and two cousins, who set about painting the traditional henna design on her hands and feet. They stained her skin in delicate orange-brown scrolls that would remain there for weeks, marking her as a newlywed.
The women sat and shared tea, laughter, bawdy stories, and jokes about the marriage act.
“If his member is as big as that nose of his, you’re in for a long night!” Parween declared, and they all howled with delight. Finally, Amina was ready for the next day’s ceremonies and when the moon was high, she said good night, kissed her friends and family, and retired to her room for her last night alone.
At the first hint of morning, even before the call to prayer, Amina rose to prepare tea, but Elsa had gotten there first.
“Go back to bed! Today you are my guest!” she said, shooing Amina from the room. Not long after, Parween and the women of the family arrived to help with the final preparations. They surrounded the bride and brushed and wove her hair into a magical mix of bun and braid. They added plastic flowers and glittery barrettes to hold it in place, and when they stepped back, Amina carefully touched the creation. For the first time in her life, she seemed unaware of her extra finger.
Elsa and Parween, who were allowed to apply the bride’s makeup, stepped up for their turn. Each woman took her time applying the powders, colors, and creams that would transform Amina. They saved the best for last and everyone in the room leaned in to watch as the lipstick was applied.
Elsa wiped the bride’s lips clean and Parween dusted them with a hint of powder. Elsa took a tube of shiny red lipstick and applied the first coat of color. Amina was instructed to press her lips together to spread the color, and then Parween applied the second coat. They stood back and—pleased with themselves—let the color set before Parween took a tube of clear gloss and swiped it over Amina’s lips, creating a sheer, glassy film over her now perfectly colored mouth.
They stood back; every woman in the room muttered “ahh,” and they all rushed to put on the remaining colors. Many of the women lined up so that Parween and Elsa could work their lipstick magic. Elsa glanced at Parween, who was busily swiping color over an old woman’s thin lips. The woman peered at her own reflection and grinned broadly. Elsa turned to the next woman and began to apply a bright swath of pink. The young woman giggled and held her hand over her mouth.
“Ohh, we are all so beautiful,” she exclaimed. “Even Allah must be smiling today.” A ripple of laughter erupted in the room.
“Allah is surely smiling,” Elsa replied, “seeing us here, new friends and old, sharing lipstick.”
The women busied themselves with the lipstick and when the bridal dress arrived, they exclaimed again. Although the dress was old and well-worn, it was exquisite, and today it belonged to Amina. She stepped into the delicate white fabric, dotted with beads and sparkles, and ran her hands slowly along the garment.
Sidiq’s mother, Farah, arrived and kissed Amina repeatedly.
“You are an angel, a beauty. I am happy to have you as my daughter.” She spoke in the same whiny, raspy voice that Sidiq had and smiled in the same gentle way.
Amina, whose own mother had died when she was a child, smiled at her new mother-in-law. When Farah stepped forward to lay the gossamer white veil on her head, Amina’s eyes filled with tears. Rashid’s wife stepped in and knelt to slip the bride’s feet into the shiny, white patent-leather high heels that so many other brides in Bamiyan had worn. The shoes didn’t always fit, but on Amina they were perfect, and she wiggled her toes happily.
Elsa took out her mirror and held it so the bride could see herself. Surely, there had never been a prettier bride in all of Bamiyan. A smile spread across Amina’s bright lips and she held the mirror closer as if searching for some hint of her former self. But the
re was none. The bride who looked back was an image of pure loveliness.
There were tears in her eyes when she looked at Elsa and Parween. “Thank you,” she said in perfect English. Elsa and Parween each kissed the bride and stepped back.
Elsa walked to Rashid’s compound to see if all was set for the wedding. As a foreign woman, she was allowed to mix with the Afghan men, and she would be the only guest who could join in both the men’s and women’s festivities. She saw Mike and Dave standing just inside the compound, speaking with Hamid, and she warmed at the image of the two uniformed soldiers, sidearms in full view, drinking tea and talking.
Mike noticed Elsa and raised his tiny cup in greeting. Not allowed to touch each other in public, today they would be content with smiles and nods. Even dancing would be women with women and men with men. Elsa had laughed when she’d seen Mike and Dave’s expressions when she told them they might have to dance together.
“Not me,” Mike had declared. “I’m saving all of my dances for you.”
Dave piped up as well. “I may love him like a brother, but I sure as hell won’t be doin’ the fox-trot with him any time soon.”
Elsa winked at Mike as she passed by. She strode around a group of men rotating the blackened goat over a blazing fire, the pungent smell low in the air. Another group of men tended the enormous platters of rice. A table filled with large loaves of naan and plates of cookies and cakes drew her eye. Another smaller table displayed plates filled with fresh yogurt and slices of sweet melon.
Elsa spied Rashid and hurried to let him know that his sister was ready. He asked Elsa to escort Amina and the lady guests to the central women’s room so that the celebration could begin. Elsa heard the first strains of the gay Afghan wedding music as she headed back out through the gate.
She returned to her house and announced that it was time. A large swath of fabric was thrown over the bride so that no one would see her as she made her way.
Once they arrived in the women’s room, Amina’s covering was removed and she was ushered to a seat of honor, high on several velvet pillows. There, she would watch the festivities, and the women would take turns sitting by her side, offering her food and drink and marital advice. Though she’d attended many weddings in her lifetime, Amina told Elsa she’d never been allowed to sit too near the bride for fear of somehow tainting the celebration with the sight of her loathsome extra finger.
Today, the seat of honor was hers alone. Elsa and Parween sat by her side and whispered soothing words.
“Sidiq will be a good husband to you, Amina,” Elsa said softly.
Parween chimed in with her own good wishes for many sons. Amina sat in wide-eyed silence. After a while, Elsa patted Amina’s hand and excused herself so that she could check on the men’s party.
Music and laughter blared from the men’s room as Elsa knocked and slipped in. There was much guffawing and slapping of the groom’s back while the married men shared their own conjugal bed secrets.
“If her hair falls to her waist, then your pleasures will be endless. Shorter hair means shorter pleasures.” They all laughed in reply.
Elsa arrived and stood at Mike’s elbow and asked how they were doing.
“Well, if you got the beer, I think I’m just about ready.” She longed to kiss him, but that would have to wait. Instead, she turned to scan the crowd for Sidiq.
She spotted him surrounded by the men of the family, and they quickly parted to let her through. Standing there with family and friends, he almost looked handsome. His hair was cut, washed, and coaxed into place; his new white shalwar kamiz was spotless; and in the elevated shoes he’d borrowed, he was noticeably taller. He exuded self-confidence—and the strong scent of cheap cologne. He smiled when he saw Elsa.
“My dear friend,” he gushed. “Blessings on you for your hand in this glorious day. I will always remember your kindness to my wife and me.”
Elsa held her hand over her heart and wished him many sons and a long life. She nodded and salaamed and backed away from the group, returning to Dave and Mike.
“Well, what do you think?” she asked. “Not like weddings at home, huh?”
Dave smiled wryly.
“I don’t know, I think my wedding might have been like this, except we all drank more liquor than we needed! Wish they had some today.”
Mike just laughed and raised his cup of tea in a toast.
For Mike and Dave, the wedding was more than a social occasion. It was an opportunity to mingle with the villagers and pick up bits of information. Just by listening patiently, they’d learned of more villages used as hideaways for the enemy—Ghazni to the south, Fardeen and Sattar to the north.
“If this information is reliable—” Mike held his hand up to Dave’s questioning glance.
“I know what you’re going to say. I know it came from one old man, and I know half our intel is bad—hell, more than half. And I know everything we’ve heard today is likely just old-man gossip, but maybe it’s not. It’s worth checking out anyway. And if it’s good, we could team up with Bagram and attack these guys where they live. Really take them out. It could be the fight we’ve been looking for.” Dave nudged Mike in warning, and Mike turned to see Elsa. Mike forced a nervous smile, clearly hoping she hadn’t heard. God knows she had enough problems with their work there, and the less she knew the better off they’d all be. She stood beside Mike, and he inhaled her clean, soapy scent.
God, she’s just beautiful, he thought.
Elsa clapped to the music as the men danced, each trying to outdo the other with fancy footwork and elaborate twirls. The excitement was contagious and soon, everyone was dancing or clapping.
When it seemed to Mike as if the dancing would go on forever, there was an announcement that it was time for the marriage ceremony, and Sidiq, Rashid, and the male family members left the room.
Elsa, Mike, and Dave were invited to witness the ceremony, in which Rashid would stand beside his sister as she married Sidiq. The words of prayer were spoken softly—too softly to make anything out—and once they were muttered, the Koran was passed over their heads.
Then a veil was held over the couple’s heads as a mirror was passed in.
“What’s going on?” Mike asked Elsa.
“They’re having their first married look at one another,” she whispered, still watching.
Within minutes the veil was removed, and Amina and Sidiq were pronounced husband and wife. Sidiq took his wife’s hand and led her to the dining room.
Elsa brought the news to the women’s room, and once she’d announced that Amina was now a bride, the women trilled their delight.
Rahima had already arrived with the two children, and Elsa greeted them all.
“Essa, Essa,” Zahra shouted as she ran to Elsa, her arms outstretched. Elsa scooped her up and danced around the room. Zahra screeched in pleasure and reached for her mother, who joined them in the dance. Rahima and baby Raziq joined the festivities as well, and they all danced together before sitting for the sumptuous meal.
The platters of food were laid out and the women were encouraged to eat their fill. The female guests swarmed the food table where, for some of them, years of hunger would be sated this night.
In the bride’s dining room, Amina sat by Sidiq and they were served by their guests. Elsa returned there and filled a plate high with the bride’s favorites, roasted goat and rice and piles of the sweet cookies and cakes. Amina smiled, enjoying every morsel and every bit of attention. Once the celebration ended, Elsa knew Amina would add Sidiq to her list of responsibilities. But the celebration would thankfully go on for hours.
Elsa looked around for Mike, and when she saw him heading to the gate, he waved her over.
“Elsa, we’re leaving.”
“I’m so glad you came,” she said, taking his hand.
“I wish I could kiss you right here,” Mike whispered, “but we’ll just have to settle for a rain check.” He winked. “I’ll see you soon though.”
Elsa felt weak at the knees and said good-bye. Not long after they’d left, she found Parween.
“Have you seen Amina? She’s positively glowing,” Elsa gushed.
“Yes, I was in the courtyard when Sidiq took her hand and caressed her extra finger. Amina’s eyes teared and she smiled so, I thought she’d burst with joy.” With that, Parween lifted her sleeping baby and held him closer. “You are glowing as well. Mike?”
Elsa’s hand flew to her face. “Yes, thanks to you.”
Parween kissed her friend’s cheek. “It is time for us to be going also,” she announced.
“Good night, my friend,” Elsa said.
“Shab bokhai, rafiq è man,” Parween replied.
26
With Amina in her husband’s house, Elsa would live alone again, and while she wasn’t worried, others were. Hamid planned to rehire the chowkidor, but he hadn’t been able to locate the old doorman just yet. And Mike also wanted to provide some security.
Because of the myriad social taboos in Afghanistan, however, he couldn’t be seen entering Elsa’s house alone and remaining for any length of time, for fear that she would be dangerously branded a whore—or worse, targeted as a spy.
The morning after the wedding, Elsa rose and went into the little kitchen that had always been Amina’s domain. She gathered her cup and jar of instant coffee and searched for a box of matches to light her morning cooking fire.
She looked about, searching in all the corners, and then her eyes fell on a piece of blue fabric. Hanging on a hook banged into the mud wall was Amina’s indigo-colored burqa, seldom worn and now abandoned.
Elsa remembered how her own burqa had provided her safety when she’d worn it to Mashaal. Invisible, she thought; it had made her invisible.
She wondered if it might not do the same for Mike, and she held the fabric out for closer inspection. Amina was taller than both Elsa and Parween, and her abandoned cloak just might be the solution to their dilemma. If she could convince him to take off his boots and shroud himself in the folds of the burqa, he might be mistaken—at least at a distance at night—for a woman.
Lipstick in Afghanistan Page 22
