Home graves

By Adel Bishtawi

“Are you all his friends?” Abu Nadim asked the six young men who came to offer their condolences for the sudden death of his daughter in law the night before. "It's a private funeral, you know."

He moved his eyes from one to the other waiting for each one to nod. The last one surprised him. "And you too?" he asked?

Majdi's round face turned suddenly purple. "Yes. I'm the dark friend of your son. Didn't he ever mentioned to you that he has a Sudanese friend?"

Abu Nadim shook his head. "That boy is a wall. Extracting words out of his mouth is like extracting teeth, but his words take longer to come out and most of the time I don't know exactly what he means. I have to guess and I'm usually wrong and both of us make each other angry all the time."

Majdi waited to be seated while Abu Nadim stood thinking of other things. "So do we sit down sir, or do we leave and perhaps come another time?"

"No, no, no, no," Abu Nadim salvoed. "It's just the house is becoming crowded with relatives. Follow me please."

Abu Nadim opened the door of the front room and waited for them to pass him as he held the door. His youngest son rushed to greet them, and invited them to seat themselves. A little girl moved from the large settee and walked to her dad. He lifted her up, seated her on his leg and held her firm with both hands.

Four of Nadim's friends squeezed on the settee, the fifth pulled a chair from behind a small desk and sat quickly. Majdi looked around again and again but there were no more seats. Slowly, he moved to the back and stood behind the settee.

Abu Nadim offered them black, bitter coffee he poured from a metal flask in small, round open cups. His younger son followed him and offered dry dates.

Abu Nadim brought the flask closer to his ear, shook it and realised the distance between what remained in it and his guests was unbridgeable. Afterwards, he only offered coffee to those who asked for it.

Samih raised a curved index finger to Abu Nadim and pointed to Majdi who wasn't served.

Abu Nadim chuckled. "You have no luck in this world," he said to the Sudanese. "Maybe you'll have a better chance in the next, if the Americans don't destroy it as well."

Majdi's face which has was losing some of the purple colour darkened. He stared at Abu Nadim and ignored his offer of the customary unsweetened coffee. Abu Nadim added another splash of coffee in the rejected cup and handed it to Ahmed. "You must be a bachelor," said Abu Nadim.

"We are all bachelors," Ahmed said looking at his friends.

"You're wrong, Nadim isn't," Abu Nadim said. "I wish that he had remained a bachelor. Marriage, you know, doesn't suit everybody. It's a wasp's nest that spews nothing but problems and grief."

Nadim's friends looked at each other and wondered what was he referring to, but none challenged him. Abu Nadim always thought if you feed people they'll allow you to say anything and he felt very much like talking. He picked up the date plate and went round again. "If it's not his children, it's his wife. If it's not his wife, it's his mother," Abu Nadim continued not waiting for comments or expecting contradiction.

He faced Majdi again, looked straight in his face and shook the plate repeatedly. Majdi declined but Abu Nadim shook the plate harder and Majdi relented and took a date but he didn't eat it.

"It's full of goodness," he said and encouraged Majdi to eat he date by raising his hand to his mouth. "Bedouins can survive in the desert for months with nothing but dates and water."

Majdi didn't comment and he didn't eat the date. Abu Nadim pushed the plate towards him and shook it. Majdi understood and dropped the date.

Abu Nadim made to move on but stopped and turned to him. "I was told by the Sudanese ambassador that not all Sudanese are black."

"We don't have an ambassador here," said Majdi.

"Well then, somebody who claimed to be your ambassador."

Majdi jerked his shoulders in indifference and knelt over Ahmed. "I can't see Nadim so maybe we should leave."

Ahmed turned to Abu Nadim and asked where his son was.

"He'll be here any minute. I sent him to the undertakers to return the coffin. It's nice but not what we ordered."

Ahmed was alarmed. He lifted himself a little and looked at the door as if trying to see what lay behind. "I don't understand," he said to Abu Nadim. "If not in a coffin, where is she?"

"Oh, Where all good wives usually are - in bed," Abu Nadim said and helped himself to a half-crushed date." She died there, you know. Nadim didn't even notice. She just lay next to him and died. Not a whimper. I like silent women who never complain so let's hope he can find himself one like her."

Majdi had enough. He drew Ahmed's attention, pointed to himself then to the door. Ahmed stood, and the other four did likewise.

Abu Nadim saw them and rushed to stop them. "Where to?"

Ahmed pretended to look at his watch. "We must go back to work. We left only two colleagues to man the shift."

Abu Nadim pulled Ahmed's arm and seated him. Pointing to the others to do the same he said, "Eat first. My sister's cooking shouldn't be missed. The moment Nadim returns we'll go inside and eat. Then you can leave, not before."

"Excuse me, sir," Majdi said as he quickly approached Abu Nadim. "I accept that you are Iraqis and you may have different customs but aren't we supposed to eat after the funeral not before?"

"You have a comment for everything," Abu Nadim said. "Yes. That's our custom as well but we don't have a coffin yet."

"Aren't undertakers supposed to look after these things?"

Abu Nadim shrugged his shoulders. "They are expensive. Besides, What do they know about death that I don't know already? I've buried my mother, two wives and a daughter myself without anybody's help. It's very, very simple. Just put them in the box and take them to the cemetery. The dead don't complain, you know."

Majdi wasn't convinced.

"Think of it another way," Abu Nadim said. "If we wait until she's buried the food will be cold. Do you want to eat cold food?"

"I don't want to eat any food," Majdi said. "How can we eat when there's a woman lying dead next door...without a coffin?"

Abu Nadim had planned it so and he wasn't going to change his mind now. "It's her last wish," he said.

Nadim, looking worried and haggard as usual but a bit more so, pushed the outside door and called for his brother. Without exception, everybody turned round and looked for the brother. Realising he was helping to lay out the food in the dinning room, they waited for the closest member of the family to identify himself or herself and go inside to fetch him. None moved so the little girl was gently unseated and pushed along towards the inside door.

Nadim appeared again and prepared to yell for his brother when he saw Majdi and asked him to help.

Herding the little girl before him, Abu Nadim emerged followed by his son. By the time they understood that their help was needed, Nadim had pushed the outside door open with his foot, and brought the coffin in. Majdi followed.

Several relatives rushed to open the inside door for them but Abu Nadim stood in their way, and stopped Nadim. "Wait," he said raising his index finger. Let me check it first."

Tired and exasperated, Nadim whispered something to his father but the latter was adamant. He lifted the side of plastic top and peered inside. He knocked on the wooden frame and listened for the hollow sound he expected to hear. Finally he checked the edges of the corner and pouted his lip.

"It's dolce bianco," he told Majdi, and knocked on the top. "Nothing fancy but good stuff, durable and very reasonably priced unlike the other one she wanted to flog. Dhs 1,800 they wanted."

Majdi ignored Abu Nadim and gestured to Nadim to move on with the coffin.

"That's more than two millions in your currency," Abu Nadim said to Majdi.

Majdi thought of dropping the coffin, force Abu Nadim in it and nail it all round but he opted for something simpler. He nodded to Abu Nadim to approach and whispered something in his ear.

"I'm too old for that," Abu Nadim nonchalantly replied. He gestured to his son to takeover from Majdi, raised his hands suddenly and clapped. "Let's all go inside and eat."

Ahmed shuffled towards the inside door when he notice Majdi shaking his head with astonishment.

"What?" Ahmed said as he neared him.

"No way," Majdi whispered. "No way I am going to eat while a dead woman is lying next door."

"But it's her last wish."

Majdi shook his head violently. "Nadim's father told us she died suddenly. How could she have made a last wish? He is a bloody liar."

Ahmed tried to reach for Majdi's hand but it was promptly retracted. "No way. Let's convey our last respects to Nadim and leave this wretched house."

They all agreed. Ahmed waited for the last of the relatives to go inside and he closed the door quietly.

"If Nadim doesn't come out soon we should leave regardless," Majdi said.

They all agreed but barely a minute or two later some began to press the others for an immediate exit.

As they debated the new suggestion Nadim came out. His eyes were swollen and red, and his hand felt shaky as he received his friends' warm expressions of sorrow. "Thank God you didn't come in," he said. "How could people eat at such time is beyond me but it's not entirely their fault. My father wouldn't give them a chance to refuse."

"Was it really her last wish that people should eat even before her burial?" Majdi asked if only to vindicate his earlier stance.

Nadim was astonished. "He said that too? If he had had said it in my presence I would have spat in his face. That man inside there is my father and I should respect him regardless," he added, "but he's a heartless animal. He would do anything to save a Dirham, and he would prostitute the most scared thing on earth if he decides that's what he wants to do."

"Why do live with him?" Ahmed asked.

"I have no other option. You know what we are being paid. It's not enough for a bachelor let alone an entire family. We can eat anything, put on anything but you can't do that to children. They want proper food and clothing and books. You can't deny a child what other children at their schools have . Suha understood this. Everything I gave her went mainly to the children. I haven't seen her with a new top for years and I don't remember her asking me for anything for herself, I've never heard her complain, never. Even when-"

Nadim was suddenly overcome with emotion and his voice faltered. He wiped his tears with his fingers and pointed across the wall to where she lay. "If it weren't for her I wouldn't have been able to cope. Now that she's gone I don't know what to do. I don't know what will become of the children, I don't know, I don't know, I don' know." He then covered his face with his hands and rocked sideways in his chair.

Abu Nadim entered the room and looked around. "Nadim!" he said loudly as he advanced towards him. "How could you leave all those people and come to sit with your friends?"

Nadim lifted his head and looked blankly at him.

He wanted to chide his son but his bulging, wet eyes stopped him. "Why are you crying?"

Nadim didn't answer.

He walked across the room and stood over him. "What's upsetting you so much?" Nadim kept his eyes on his father and didn't answer. "Speak to me," his father urged. "What's upsetting you?"

Nadim looked at his father in disbelief and said:  "My wife, the mother of my children, is lying dead inside and you ask me why am I upset?"

"You don't have to tell me she's dead. I know that. But you look genuinely upset."

Nadim jumped to his feet. "One of us in this family, just one of us should grieve for Suha's death" he said with his teeth clenching in between words. "She fed the whole family including you and my brother, she washed for the whole family, she cleaned for the whole family so one of us at least should be very genuinely upset for her death. The children are too young to understand what has happened to their mum, you don't care about anybody but yourself, my brother knows she's dead but he's complaining why didn't she iron his shirts first. That leaves me to grieve for everybody but you don't want me to. I loved that woman. What should I do now that's dead? Dance?"

The unexpected outburst took the father by surprise. Had they been alone, he would have probably ignored him but there were other people around-people, like his friends, who could believe that he didn't care about anybody but himself;  people who would think of him as heartless and uncaring. It's a powerful accusation and he must defend himself. "Before you accuse me of cruelty you should accuse yourself," he said. "People who claim to love their wives don't kick them while pregnant. They don't push them out of bed if they complain of severe pressure and dizziness. They rush out to get a doctor, not to have a good night sleep on the settee outside while she's dying in agony!"

"I didn't know she was having a heart attack. How would I know?"

"Maybe, you didn't know," his father yelled, "but you shouldn't look genuinely upset if you were not genuinely concerned." He wiped drops of spit off his chin and said with a softer voice. "Now, Nadim. We have a woman who has earned her rest and she must be buried. Your aunts are preparing her. When they are ready we will go to the family as one family and we will return as one family and all this talk will not be repeated again."

"Where are they, where are they?" Suva's mum said in eagerness as she looked around. She passed the people she knew and stopped at Ahmed. "Are you Nadim's friend?"

He nodded.

"And those as well?" she said pointing at his colleagues.

He nodded again.

"I am Suva's mum," she said as she dragged a foot stool and sat opposite him. "You met her recently, didn't you?"

"I did," Ahmed said. "Only last week. She cooked for us a great meal when Nadim was promoted. "A lady she was," he added, "a true lady and she will be dearly missed."

"Did you taste her rice pudding? It's the best in the world."

Ahmed couldn't remember but he said they eat rice putting indeed and it was fantastic

"And was she polite?"

Ahmed nodded then shook his head in complete approval.

"And caring, wasn't she?" her mum asked.

"Very," Ahmed said. "The children always looked immaculately dressed.

Suva's mum stole a side look at Nadim, pulled her stool closer to Ahmed and whispered "Was she happy? Did she look happy to you?"

Ahmed couldn't answer. He remembers that she looked drawn and very tired but then she was a mum and mums do look like that sometimes. He wanted to tell her that but hesitated. Nadim was hard working but impatient.

Suva's mum waited but Ahmed wasn't forthcoming and she decided to abandon the whispering. "Young man," she said. "I asked you a simple question. Did my daughter look happy?"

Abu Nadim rushed and stood between Ahmed and Suva's mum. "Now, now Madiha, you are embarrassing our guest. This is not the sort of questions you ask a non-family member. Suha was very happy. She died with a smile on her face. We all loved her and respected her. She was like my own daughter."

She raised her head and looked at him. "That's why I asked a stranger," she said, "because your other daughter is dead...like mine."

"Madiha, Madiha, Madiha, Madiha," he salvoed. "You are understandably sad like all of us. The death of a child is an eternal journey to hell but there's nothing we, humans, can do about it. it's God's will. She passed away very quickly. Only those loved dearly by God go that way. The rest leave in agony that can last for years. I know."

Suha's mum wasn't convinced he was telling the truth. It was, nevertheless, God's will. Whatever pains Suha suffered, she now can suffer no more. She wept in silent and shook.

Abu Nadim helped her off her stool, and gestured to Nadim to give her his settee. "Today we will think of nobody but Suha," he said. "When the time comes we will have to think of the others-Suha's children and their future. Children come first, always. Nadim is busy with his work, and I'm too old so somebody else has to be entrusted with their welfare."

Suha's mum became suspicious. "Meaning?"

"Not now, not after a month, not later still, but at one point in the future we'll have to find the children a mother. And I was thinking just an hour or two ago that the best mum they can every have is a woman who can treat them like another woman's but her own. What better choice can there be than Samira?"

Suha's mum gasped in shock and hit her chest. "Are you crazy? Suha is still here."

"Suha will be sent to her creator like a queen. You'll see the fine arrangements I have devised for her burial. But we would like Samira to be our new queen, my new daughter in law."

Suha's mum jumped up in horror. "I squandered the life of my eldest daughter and you are asking me to squander the life of the youngest?"

She rushed inside and came out a few moments later with her coat and faced Nadim's friends. "One dead daughter is enough for any one mum," she screamed. "You and you and you and you and you and you be my witness for a mother's statement I am going to make," she added while pointing at each of the friends, "God summoned Suha to Him because He couldn't bear see her suffer anymore. They wouldn't let her visit me and they wouldn't let me visit her lest I see her suffering but I know. She never spoke ill of Nadim or his father but my daughter is dead because they didn't care, they didn't care enough. Not enough to let her enjoy her life a bit, not enough to let enjoy her children, not enough to make life bearable, not enough to stop her preferring death over life, not enough, not enough, not enough."

Like acid, her tears streamed down her cheeks leaving a blackish trail. Drip, drip, drip they began their flow, then they gushed. Her hands became wet with the tears she wiped as she spoke. She shook her head instead. Blinking rapidly to see through the thickening veil of tears, she turned around, identified Abu Nadim and his son and faced them. Shaking violently she pointed her finger at one then the other. "I will wait outside to take my daughter to her grave. I will let my tears soak her eternal grave because I'm her mother, but they won't be tears of grief. They will be the tears of relief. Do you want to know why," she addressed Abu Nadim. "Because her real grave was right here, at her home. I know of many women whose homes are their graves but my daughter has lived in this grave for far too long. My daughter, my other soul, was kicked when she was pregnant, ignored when she needed help and pushed out of her bed while she had a heart attack. No doctor was called, no remorse was shown, no tears were shed and this man," she said pointing at Abu Nadim, "this man told all she died with a smile on her face. The woman who was raped, beaten, enslaved and humiliated every day of her married life died with a smile on her face? Can you believe him? Can anybody believe him? No, but I will tell you something you can believe. My daughter didn't die yesterday. She died many years ago, she died the day she was married, and she didn't die just once."

Abu Nadim walked to the outside door Suha's mother had left open and closed it slowly. He picked up the metal flask and a handful of cups and turned round.

 "Coffee?" he asked his guests and shook the cups. "Coffee, anybody?"