My Sister's Death

Safi It's a party. The house is full. Her father's celebrating. He's
completed a deal with the Saudis. It's taken a while and he's called
his friends, all who've helped to put the deal together. It's mostly
men. Some women, wives. It's okay, her father says, women should not be
hidden. He's asked her to help serve his guests. Her mother's protested
saying she's no longer a child, but he says this is a progressive
family and he's going to practice what he preaches; he will not hide
his women when his friends are around. All the windows in his house
will always be open, he says. And anyway, he adds, he'll have her
brother keep watch, make sure there's nothing to worry about. So she's
helping, handing out the food and the soft drinks. ???????????????.
This side of the moon: Is the party ended? She seems to be floating.
There's just a blur. Fading into nothing. Whispers above her, around
her. People breathing. Hard, harsh. The lines of a face. Is that her
mother? Broken light flashes. There's a thud. Then a cry. A ripple of
pain touches her. Her eyes open. A face above her. Bending down. Close.
In its eyes she cannot see herself. Just black. Then she realises she
had cried out, it's her pain, the pain's inside her, on her. It's
everywhere, her pain. Again a thud. Again a pain. Then she remembers. A
memory burns through the dark. She remembers being carried up the
stairs. She remembers her brother hitting her, her father pinning her
arms and behind them her mother, eyes blackened, shouting about broken
pots. She remembers and the fear returns. Please, she wants to say, I
don't want to die, but a knife flashes and punctures her throat. Her
eyes open in surprise at the sound of her flesh being cut.
?????????????????? By the light of a falling knife she sees her
brother?.. I seen her. I was watching. There's a big turnout. Pitaji's
called a lot of people and they're all here. Some are okay, like, but
most are fuckheads but Pitaji thinks they're useful. Life's like that.
You need to mix with scum, he tells me, if you want to rise. I keep my
eyes open. This is Pitaji's place. I see her looking at him, the bitch.
Staring. One of Pitaji's business contacts. Go ways back. Came here on
the same boat, according to Pitaji. Lived in the same house. Ate from
the same plate. Giving him the eye she was. Fucking smiling she was as
he took the meat. What's the fuck's goin on here, I say. Secret signs,
she's giving him. I thought she'd learnt her lesson, but fuck, no, she
still wants to play. And the mutha fucker, he should know better, he's
married, like with three bitches calling him dad. But I know he still
likes to play. Seen him at parties and like. Always on the pull. Fuck,
so's all of us. All bright Casanovas. He can play, I'm not going to
lock up his dick, but no fucking way was he playing in this house. Not
with my family. He can fuck every colour of bitch in the street, but
when he's here he hangs his fucking cap on the door. But it's her. She'
flashing him. She's got him in her lights. And the way they're playing
I know this is not the first time. I follows her into the kitchen.
She's pulling her chunni closer. I pull her round and slap her. Bitch,
it's a bit late for that. I've seen you looking at that fuck, I says,
and I seen him looking back. You keep your fucking face down or you're
fucked. You hear? She nods. If that shit looks at you again, you move.
She nods. But I fucking know she's not listening. So I slap her again.
I'm not fucking around here, I tell her. I'll break more than your
fucking legs this time. Respect, that's what I want. I've told my
Pitaji I'll look after his honour. There's no way my sista's goin' be a
slappa. I lift my fist and she backs away saying. I ain't done nothing.
Keep it that way, I warn her. I know what Pitaji will have to say.
????????????????????.. By the light of a knife flash she sees her
father?? I'm still the man I was when I first came here. All of us are,
all of us here. I've kept myself intact, my family whole, my honour
pure. All of us have, all of here. I know who I am, where I came from.
I know where my feet are. I know the dust that covers my shoes. I do
not look for other colours; mine fit me well. I look at my friends'
sons, their sons' sons and I know they're lost. I see them in the
street, these hybrids, dressed as foreigners, speaking a strange
language, mixing with scum, picking women who have no honour. Our
children are becoming strangers to us in this strange land. We were
talking, a group of us, about why we came here. We came to make money,
someone said, that's all, make it quick and go back home. But way
things are we'll leave with nothing, this guy said. If we're not
careful when we go we'll have lost everything, children, honour,
everything, go back empty. The rest of us agree. We know this is true,
we all know what's going on. We all keep our eyes open. Then I see my
daughter across the room. They all see her. She's just come out of the
kitchen. She looks pale, I think it's the light. They all see her. One
of them says he's marrying his daughters as soon as he can find a man
for them. These are dry times, he says, no faith. There's no shadow to
keep us pure. No one cares about their roots anymore. They've sold
themselves. He's still looking at my daughter. Whores and pimps
everywhere, he then says. Fucking streets aren't safe for our women.
Keep them in the house, he said, marry them young, get them used to the
fist, that's the only way to guarantee honour. Have you seen the
bitches selling themselves to every piece of shit who throws them a
penny? Times are changing, my friend, he says, you need to keep your
eyes open all the time. They could be anyone's. I tell him quiet. My
daughter's close. I watch her coming, see her look sideways at him,
smiling, and I see the bastard smiling too. Then she's there in front
of me. Doesn't lift her eyes. I see her shaking. She knows I'm
watching. Stands with the tray. She's trembling. I know there's
trouble. Tell your bro to come here? I say. And I watch her go away.
?????????????????. By the light of a knife she sees her mother. Her
brother comes to me and says, Ma, Pitaji's said we all need to
talk?.right now. All evening I knew there'd be trouble. Blood red I saw
the moon. The time of our affliction. We are cursed by this moon. How
its turns me to salt! I lie in bed, the moon open in my face, next to
him. Only time I want his flesh. Welcome him into me, kill my flesh,
silence its screaming. They say the same, all the women. Our men are
there to sate the moon. But my daughter, she's just ending her
childhood. She's my child, my little one. All evening I'd felt the moon
rising in me. And as I watched her I'd felt it in her as well. She was
carrying a woman's scent tonight. Bright. Burning. All night I watched
her. The house was full, men I hadn't seen before. Any dog that can
bark for me is welcome, my husband says. I'd told him to take care. But
he's the head. Her brother comes to me and says Pitaji has made a
decision. I knew then it was a blood moon and there'd be blood rising
to deepen its cheek. (When we took her to the room she looked at me,
said, Mama, help me. But I was tied, my hands were tied. I could do
nothing. God have mercy on us.) All night I'd seen her eyes flushed
with our madness. I could smell her. How could the men ignore her? How
can a dog restrain himself when the bitch is throwing her scent? That's
our curse. There's no escape for us. But she'd tried. The last time she
was fifteen. She had a group of friends, girls her age, girls we knew.
They'd been skipping classes. Taking the train into the city. Changed
their clothes in the train. Put on makeup. Had been smoking. We beat
her. And she ran away. And then the telephone started ringing. Just
spoke about her. She's a slut, the voice said, I've seen her. I know
what she is, taking off her clothes for anyone. Her brother found her.
Renting a room in a house that belonged to one of Pitaji's friends.
They blamed me. She was my daughter, I should have taught her better,
sewn her sin when they'd said. But I wanted to keep her whole. She was
still my little girl. Her brother comes to me and says, She's opened
the window, Ma. All the world's seen into Pitaji's house. I asked him
whether he was sure and he said look at her, look, can you see her
shaking with her shame? The only thing is to cut out the shame, cut it
before it spreads. It has to be pulled out from the root. She's my
shame. I brought her into this world. I can do nothing to help her. I
have nowhere to run. I'm tied. I will hide my shame in my stomach. It
will be buried with me. What can a mother do in this stony land?
There's no shade from its wickedness. Everywhere we're exposed. I
looked. I saw her watching me and when I caught her eye I knew she knew
what was coming. Darkness. Just past the moon. They tied her hands and
feet together, gagged her, carried her into her bedroom and threw her
onto the bed. Each of them stabbed her seven times, first the brother,
then the father and finally the mother. Behind them her uncle recited
verses to purify their spirits. They wrapped the body in a white sheet,
took it into the back garden and pushed it into a metal bin. They then
doused it with paraffin and set it alight. The flames lit their faces,
lips moving as if in prayer. Her name was Safi. Her birth certificate
stated "Saffron" but she was always called Safi. She was sixteen.
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