Time of Gifting

by Taki Drake

  The shop proprietor moved immediately to greet them and spoke at length before courteously waiting for Abdul to translate. Both he and Jumal looked pleased and slightly amused by the time the man was done talking.

  Abdul turned to Mary and reported, “This merchant, who goes by the name of Amir Sardar, bids us all welcome. He invites us to look through his shop and asks if you would accept his hospitality in the form of a family blend of Kahwah. It is a tea that varies from family to family and only served to honored guests. You should know that what he proposes is a sign that he takes you seriously and is willing to bargain.”

  Mary answered, “Please tell him that we would be happy to taste his family tea.” While Abdul translated her response, Mary turned to the rest of the women and explained what was going on. Geri was amazed that this was all involved in a simple purchase. When the group leader pointed out that bargaining was a way of life here and those cultural ceremonies were essential for creating an environment where commerce was possible, she could see the light of understanding igniting within each of her friends in turn.

  Amir called out, and the young woman came from the shop's curtained back, carrying a small samovar and eight ceramic handleless cups on the tray. She laid it down on an empty counter and waited with her eyes downcast.

  Looking into the decorated white ceramic vessels, Mary could see small pieces of appeared to be nuts in the bottom. Before Mary could ask, Jumal explained in a quiet tone, “Those are chopped up almonds. The tea that will be poured on top of them usually includes cardamom, cinnamon, saffron, and either sugar or honey in addition to the green tea. Every family has their own take on the recipe, but they are always good.”

  Still keeping eyes downcast, the young woman carefully filled each of the ceramic cups. Once she was done, the merchant handed the beverages to Mary’s group, starting first with the group leader, followed by the other women. Only after all the females had been served did the man hand cups to Abdul and Jumal, reserving the last for himself.

  Amir raised his cup in a toast, which Abdul translated as a welcome to honored guests instead of the more stilted term for customers. Mary smiled with pleasure, knowing that he would be both respectful and a wily negotiator. With anticipation, she began to bargain with energy that surprised her.

  Less than a half-hour and two more cups of tea later, Amir and Mary concluded their bargain. Unable to handle the suspense of the negotiations and the intricate dance between traders, the other women had been restive. Jumal finally took them out to wander through the market while Abdul stayed with her.

  Feeling exhilarated, Mary beamed at Amir, and the man smiled back at her. As the young woman tied up Mary’s purchases into a bundle, which she then shyly handed to Abdul. In the meantime, Amir brought a box over to Mary, extending it with a bow. In a careful cadence, the Afghani merchant spoke at length, finally placing it directly into her hands.

  Her guide translated, “The honorable merchant thanks you for the honor of negotiating and wishes that you will accept this small token of his esteem. He hopes that when you return to the area that you will once again visit his poor shop.” Abdul finished with the gesture urging her to open the box.

  Mary opened the top seeing a large set of the handleless cups in which they had been served tea, which Abdul had told her were called piala. Exclaiming in pleasure at the outer pattern's intricate delicacy, the woman thanked Amir effusively, informing him that his would definitely be the shop she returned to when she visited again.

  Now comfortable with the pattern of Afghani token exchange, Mary had planned out her offerings and positioned them ready to hand at the top of her tote bag. Confidently she reached in and selected items by touch.

  Sensitive to the cultural posture on touching between unrelated adults, Mary laid two sparkling pens and a neatly folded long silk scarf on the tray. She could tell by the widening of the man’s eyes that she had given him what he considered a princely gift. It was her way of telling him that her desire to return and revisit him was honest. I am not sure that I will ever come back to Afghanistan, she thought to herself, but I will want to return here if I do.

  Mary and Abdul left the booth amid a flurry of best wishes and protestations of thanks. Mary could see that her companion had a wide grin that looked like it was going to cut his face into two, and she could feel the urge to smile the same way in her own muscles. Trying with difficulty to contain herself, the woman said in an overly calm voice, “I think we did pretty well.”

  Abdul exploded into laughter, causing the people around them to stare at the duo and drawing Jumal and the rest of their party. When Patty and Pam demanded details, all that Mary would say was she was comfortable with the exchange, and so was the shopkeeper.

  As the group moved toward the next shop, Jean said quietly to her friend, “You probably think that I am paranoid, but I kept seeing a couple of men that were watching us. I know this is not a really large market, but the fact that they kept reappearing made me feel a little bit creeped out.”

  Mary gravely thanked her for letting her know and asked her if she had told Jumal and Abdul. When Jean admitted that she had not because she did not want the men to think less of her, the group leader pulled both men in closer and let them know what happened.

  The men promised to keep an eye out and let Haji know what was going on. Jean volunteered that she would notify them if she saw either of the men again. As they entered the next shop, Mary could not get rid of the increasing pressure of approaching danger that had been dogging her heels for the last few days.

  Chapter 12 – A Meal Before You Go

  The previous day had ended on a series of high notes with successful trades one after another. Each of the merchants in subsequent booths that Mary had entered had been respectful and reasonable in their prices and negotiation. The woman took advantage of that attitude to buy unusual spices and other metalwork, rugs, leather items, and distinctive accessories like pakols, a type of warm flat hat.

  By the time they were done, Mary was more than ready to get back on the bus and travel to their lodgings. Abdul and their two escorts had taken care of getting everything appropriately stowed and made the American women comfortable before starting the last trip of the evening.

  Mary had almost crawled to her seat in the rear of the bus, feeling the echoing effects of adrenaline release accentuating the agony of aching feet and the tension in her shoulders and back. The combination of pain and exhaustion pushed any other event out of the forefront of her mind. Fumbling in her tote bag, the woman pulled some ibuprofen out and swallowed it, washing the pills down with large gulps of water. Suddenly too tired to keep her eyes open, the group leader soon fell into an exhausted sleep that lasted until the bus pulled up in front of the evening’s accommodations.

  The group leader did not remember much of the evening, other than someone insisting that she have something to eat when all she wanted to do was to go to sleep. However, Mary wakened early, disoriented, and struggling to identify where she was. Quickly washing and brushing her teeth, Mary was down in the small hotel lobby with her bag packed and ready to go just as Abdul settled accounts with the desk clerk.

  Being Mary, their cheerful and devoted guide and driver came over to inquire how she felt this morning. Responding that she was better rested and totally recovered, the American woman was pleased that the small worry lines in his face eased out and his familiar happy grin reappeared on his face.

  A few minutes later, the rest of the women in the tour group made their way into the lobby, each with their packed bags. One of their escorts, Jumal, came over to assist Abdul in stowing away their luggage while the women climbed onto the bus.

  Looking out the window, Mary saw Abdul in the middle of a serious discussion with two escorts. Both Haji and Jumal were emphatically making points to the tour guide and driver, and none of them looked happy. Making a note to herself that she should ask Abdul what they had been talking about later, Mary instead concentrated on t
he beautiful scenery around her.

  Even when the two men on motorcycles started out ahead of them and the bus followed, Mary kept her eyes on the landscape that was so different than her home. The dramatic mountain vistas and the areas of lush vegetation contrasting with stony outcroppings and bare sandy soil seemed to be seeping into her soul.

  Mary knew from earlier discussions with Abdul that they would be driving about an hour and a half to another village, where they could experience another form of market and see some of the other crafts that the Afghanis produced. Mary had been particularly interested in the promise of embroidered mats and tablecloths. That sort of handwork was costly in the US, and she was looking forward to seeing the traditional patterns and color choices typical in this area.

  The scenery was so seductive that the photographers were constantly asking Abdul to slow down or stop. However, the driver would only slow down enough for pictures since he reminded them that this was the third and last village they would visit, and afterward, the tour would be heading back to the city so they could sleep in their hotel again tonight.

  Suitably chastened, Naomi and Geri continue to take many pictures while the others only stirred themselves occasionally. Naomi was the first to call out a sighting of their destination, exclaiming, “This is an incredibly dirty and small village. Are you sure we are going to find handwork here?”

  Abdul said somewhat defensively, “Yes, I know that it looks terrible, but they truly have some beautiful handwork, and it gives us a place to stop and have a meal before we go back to the city. The drive between here and your hotel is fairly long, and we wanted you to have a break.”

  Mary spoke up, saying reprovingly, “We are getting jaded if we are not willing to experience things that offend our American eyes.” Abashed, Naomi called out an apology, immediately following it by snapping a whole flurry of pictures as they drove the rest the way into the village.

  Connie called out in amazement, “That cow is wearing a blanket! I have never seen anything like that.”

  Abdul responded, saying, “It is the farmer’s favorite cow!” When the women broke into uproarious laughter, Mary could tell that their guide and driver was confused but decided it would not be useful to try to get him some clarity on why they all laughed.

  Pulling into an empty area and parking, the women exited the bus in a flood of chatter. Mary came along at the back of the group, unable to find the energy to lead them around what promised to be a strangely unappealing area.

  Once Abdul explained that those who provided embroidered items would have a length of brightly colored yarn hanging from the door frame, while those that did leather work would have a strip of cured leather on theirs, the women scattered. The three escorts were run ragged trying to keep an eye on all of their charges.

  Mary made her way into one small building set off by itself where a dangling piece of rosy pink thread hung from the doorway. Tapping on the doorframe courteously, she waited a couple of seconds before stepping through the room beyond.

  A worn-looking woman with young eyes glanced up at her fearfully but kept her hands steady in an intricate length of fabric. Enthralled by the beauty of the work, Mary exclaimed, “How beautiful!”

  The fear left the Afghani woman’s face, and Mary realized with a flash of stunned astonishment that the woman was young enough to be her daughter. Pierced with a sudden insight, the American woman was faced with the harsh acknowledgment of just how hard it was to live in rural Afghanistan. Her gaze softening in sympathy, she asked gently, “Do you have more things to show me?”

  The younger woman’s expression showed her non-understanding, and Mary was about to call out for Abdul when he stuck his head through the doorway and asked her if there was any problem. When Mary explained, the tour guide translated quickly and waited in case the woman had questions

  Mary’s heart lurched when she turned her attention back to the woman only to see that even the minimal invasion of an Afghani man in her home had filled her face with fear again, and she had curled over her handwork protectively. Her throat burning around the lump that made it impossible for her to speak, the American woman gazed imploringly at Abdul.

  The young man who had spent almost every waking moment with them for multiple weeks read Mary’s desires and spoke to the young villager quietly. When she gave a trembling response, Abdul called out a farewell to his charge and disappeared.

  The Afghani woman carefully folded her current project so that her working area was protected and got up to pull a series of loosely-wrapped bundles out from a niche in the corner of the room. Laying them out on the top of a small table, she unrolled the first to reveal a tablecloth that drew an explosive gasp of astonishment from Mary.

  Worked in intricate stitches of interlocking shapes, the vibrant colors almost exploded off of the base textile. Unable to stop herself, Mary unrolled item after item, amazed at the range of skill demonstrated and humbled by the amount of work that had gone into each one.

  Almost shaking with admiration, Mary used her index finger to draw a circle encompassing all of the items on the table, asking, “How much do you want for these?” while simultaneously turning her hand up and using her other index finger to tap her palm. When the young woman answered with a question, Mary knew that she needed Abdul.

  Raising her voice to call out his name, Mary saw the young woman cringe and move toward the curtain that divided the small house. Again, the American woman was almost overwhelmed with the protective urge but knew she had no way of communicating that to the frightened woman in front of her.

  Abdul appeared in the doorway, gasping with the effort that had made him answer Mary so quickly. When she explained what she wanted to him, he promptly translated both her questions and the one’s response. With a look of compassion on his face, their guide explained, “Her starting price is $0.75.”

  Mary nodded her head, acknowledging, “That is very reasonable per item, but she is undervaluing it because of the size of some of the tablecloths.”

  His face assuming an even sadder shadow deep inside his eyes, Abdul corrected her, saying, “No, that is what she is asking for everything on the table.”

  The American woman exclaimed in disbelief, “There are twenty-six tablecloths on this table. How can she want so little for hundreds of hours of work?”

  Showing the depth of private grief, the young man told her, “She would not even get a penny apiece for these items from any of the merchants around here. This is probably her only skill, and she is a widow with a child to support. One of the reasons we stop here is that the headman is tolerant of those in her circumstances. Most other village elders or headmen would throw her out, letting her and her daughter starve. This one does not even attempt to make them pay him.”

  Mary’s chest was so tight that she could not seem to get a breath. Swallowing with difficulty, she asked her driver, “How often do you come here? I mean, how often do you personally drive a tour through this village?”

  Abdul admitted, “About every two months.”

  Suddenly the swirling confusion of pain inside of Mary settled into crystalline determination. Looking at Abdul, she said, “When I leave the tour, I will give you funds to come and purchase everything that she has done. I will give you money now to go and buy at roughly the same rate everything that the women in her situation have for sale in this village. We will work out some way of getting those goods to me, but I cannot allow such a situation like this to exist, especially when it costs me so little to resolve.”

  His eyes warm with admiration, the young Afghani man said quietly, “I go to each of them and make the purchases for you. Do you want me to tell them that when I return, I will buy their goods at the same rate?” When Mary agreed to that strategy, Abdul spoke softly with the woman whose frightened eyes had been bouncing from one to the other of her visitors.

  Quickly, Mary paid for her purchases and concealed her emotional reaction as the woman held the Afghani coins in her hand, w
hile relieved tears dripped down her face. After a few seconds, the younger woman’s gaze darted around the room, and Mary knew that she was trying to find something to give as a token of her esteem at the end of the trade.

  Before the American woman could try to explain that she did not need anything else, a slender, undernourished child darted out from behind the curtains to hand a stack of mats to what was clearly her mother. Jabbering rapidly, the little girl pointed to Mary and made her speech emphatic. At first, the mother's face showed resistance, but it crumbled under what Mary recognized as the force of necessity.

  Hesitantly, the young woman offered the mats to Mary, who was struck with an emotional jolt to the heart at the evidence of skill reborn in the small child. The little girl had managed to create a swirling interlock pattern that trimmed the mats and created a beautiful framework for whatever meal was placed on top of them.

  Realizing how important this exchange was, Mary smiled broadly and accepted the mats with a small bow. Reaching into her tote bag, she offered, in turn, two of the glittering pens. Both mother and child exclaimed in pleasure, and Mary placed them in the work-worn palm of the woman’s hand, closing the Afghani’s fingers around the American woman’s token.

  Impulsively, the small girl ran over to Mary and flung her little arms around the American's waist. Giving a short hug in return, Mary gathered her purchases up and left the house.

  Desperately trying to hold her composure, Mary headed back toward the bus. Seeing Haji standing there as a guard, Mary moved up to him, saying, “Could you please put these purchases inside for me? I think I need to walk around a little bit.”