cool tiled floor. He would not budge for Salil, no matter how much gentle
prodding he tried. In the end Salil decided to wash the floor around the cat
and come back to that patch after finishing the rest.
If the cat would not move, then Salil felt he may be forced
to throw the dripping wet cloth at him.
But the house was large and there were many polished floor
tiles for Salil to clean. The household of Aahil Farah was a splendid place to
behold, the bathroom mosaic alone had been rumoured to cost a king’s ransom.
The elder women of the town debated the worth of the large house over coffee
while lounging in the shade of the Barbary fig tree, extolling the house’s
virtues and denouncing them in equal measure. Whatever the flavour of the
opinion however, all agreed that Aahil Farah; owner of the most stalls in the
market place, son-in-law to some of the most highly positioned people in the
region, had good taste.
Salil felt floors that needed cleaning three times a week
had little sense to them, even if they did look nice.
An hour and many polished tiles later Salil found himself back
in the sitting room with the cat. The cat which had not moved an inch.
After gentle poking had earned him three scratches to the
back of his hand Salil tried threats, which did nothing at all, after
convincing himself that it was the only way to get the cat to move and the
floor washed, Salil took aim with the cloth and-
‘SALIL!’ Shrieked the all too familiar voice of Haajar Farah,
his father’s third wife. ‘PUT DOWN THAT CLOTH NOW, YOU HORRID LITTLE MONSTER!’
Haajar The Wrathful rushed over to the cat, ‘oh little baby!
Has that wretched child frightened you again? Oh, your mummy will make things
well.’ The woman cooed. ‘SALIL! What do you think you are doing? Hateful boy,
you should have been put to the streets years ago!’ Haajar continued roughly
grabbing Salil by the wrist in a painful vice-like grip.
‘Binesh!’ called Haajar. ‘BINESH, I NEED YOU HERE NOW!’
‘’Oh No,’’ though
Salil, twisting to see the doorway where his inevitable doom would be walking
through. Haajar, was the daughter of Mr Shadid, one of Tuinis’ higher
magistrates, and not a man easily cowed. But Salil was fairly certain, no
matter how brave Mr Shadid was in the city halls- even he must have been a
intimidated by Haajar. Yet Haajar (as loud and ill tempered as she was)
frightened Salil a whole lot less than Binesh did.
‘What are you yelling for, Haajar?’ said another woman, Rubi
Farah, sauntering through the doorway making Salil’s heart leap unpleasantly as
his agony was prolonged.
Rubi Farah was the second wife of Aahil Farah, she was a
‘business acquisition’ so Salil had overheard from some of his father’s market
stall boys. As far as Salil could make out; a wife acquired as part of a
business deal meant someone gave you money, and you accepted responsibility for
a lazy woman that no one else wanted to marry.
Or that was Salil’s reasoning at least. Rubi Farah was the
spoiled young daughter of the well-off Daher family, she had spent much of her
youth spending all her father’s money on clothes and jewellery, and now she was
married she spent all her husband’s.
As Rubi threw her shopping on the floor and flopped down
onto the low sofa, scattering silk cushions everywhere, another woman’s
silhouette appeared at the door.
Salil was not so frightened this time as the large outline
was unmistakably that Khuzamah, the greedy one. Khuzamah daughter of Aaghaa Maalouf, a purveyor of dancing
bears, trained monkeys and other party entertainment.
‘Fingers in many pies’ as Haajar had
waspishly whispered to Rubi one day.
‘It’s more likely that his chubby fingers are
leading rich men around by their masculine tendencies,’ Rubi had replied, setting the
two of them off in giggles until Binesh had come in, scolded Salil for
listening in on conversations he was not involved in, and instructed both Rubi
and Haajar to hold their tongues or lose them.
At the present time however Salil stood, wrist now made
painfully sore by Haajar twisting it harshly, listening for any movement beyond
the wide arch of the doorway. He heard the wind catch the delicate hanging
birdcage on the balcony, he heard the purrs of the pampered cat Aswad as he was
cradled by Haajar. With each moment the room felt more alive as the women
around him talked, chattered, compared purchases; their voices a muffled noise
as Salil strained to hear beyond them, his hope that Binesh was not in the
house growing each second.
Despite his hope Binesh walked through the door.
She was the oldest of the women, around 46 at least, her
gaze eerily cold through the warm colour of brown eyes. She was not a woman of
high breeding or the relative of someone with powerful connections, in
comparison to Mr Farah’s other wives her social standing put her far below
them.
Never the less, the woman once known as Binesh Kassab,
daughter of a simple market butcher, walked into the room with authority borne
of knowing you are the one in control.
Haajar started up only to be silenced by Binesh, who pointed
at Salil, still in his compromising position. ‘I’ve been to the bedrooms, there
are clothes all over Rubi’s bed,’ said Binesh.
‘Yes,’ Salil agreed. ‘’He
had finished putting Rubi’s clothes away this morning! How on earth had she
managed to get the room messy again since arriving back from shopping?’’
‘I’ve also been to the kitchen, the food was almost
burning,’ said Binesh.
Salil highly doubted that as he had put the dinner on later
than he was supposed to but he would never have admitted that to Binesh. ‘Yes,
Binesh,’ he answered.
‘Also,’ said Binesh Farah beginning to walk slowly round the
room. ‘I see you plainly haven’t carried out your instruction to wash the
floors.’
Salil was aghast; he had spent all morning, many agonising
hours, washing the floors. ‘But I have, Binesh!’
She looked at him sharply, strode over, and grabbing him by
the ear forced his head down so he could look at the floor. ‘That,’ began
Binesh. ‘- is not a cleaned floor!’
Salil looked and then realised, ‘I’m sorry Binesh, but the
cat was laying on that bit, I was about to move him when you came home!’
‘LIES!’ screeched Haajar. ‘He was about to maliciously
attack Aswad!’
‘No!’ said Salil a little bit panicked. ‘It was only a bit
of water to get the cat to move! I couldn’t pick him up, he scratches me!
That’s why the floor wasn’t completely clean, I promise!’
Still while holding onto his ear Binesh pinched Salil hard
on the arm. ‘Don’t promise me lies, Salil’ she said guiding him round in a
circle to look at the rest of the room. ‘I don’t know what ‘’clean’’ means to
you, child, but this house is not clean!’ she continued, ‘the food is not
edible, the rooms look untouched, you are cruel to Haajar’s animal- no doubt to
spite her- and the floor of this room is dirty and dusty!’ she finished pulling
Salil in a circle and let go of his ear so he was able to stand and look at the
apparently unclean room.
Which it was.
There was the patch of unwashed floor where the cat was,
there were cushions that Rubi had knocked everywhere along with her shopping
strewn all over the place, the wet cloth that Salil had dropped when Haajar had
taken hold of him had unfortunately been soaking a pool of water into the rug, and
where the women had walked in from the market they had trailed dusty
footprints. Salil looked at his feet and started picking at his cuticles, there
was no point in him explaining that the house had been almost spotless before
his father’s four wives had arrived back. As Binesh dispassionately commanded
him to clean up his mess Salil
started making a prediction of the other wives instructions.
‘‘Khuzamah will ask
for food,’’ he thought, kneeling down to re-wash the floor with the
retrieved cloth, ‘’Haajar will want
tougher punishment for me next time, Rubi will want her shopping put away, and
Binesh- she will always find something for me to do.’’
As he worked around the room, Salil’s predictions came true
and he carried out the orders obediently, his arms and legs growing achy and
tired as he silently worked, closely watched by the women of the house as they
ate, drank cool refreshing drinks, talked and relaxed. At 12:25 the Adhan sounded in the streets of
Tunis, calling the faithful to prayer. Salil, loved that sound; it’s melody
meant much to the Muslim people, but also to Salil it signified the end of his
hard day and gave him respite from his father’s mean wives.
After midday prayers were complete Rubi rooted around in the
cupboards getting out cleaning cloths to be washed and knocking things
everywhere, she also got in the way of Khuzamah who had taken over the cooking
and this resulted in sharp words being exchanged that Salil could hear from the
sitting room. Salil had cleaned himself for his prayers and dressed better in
preparation for the return of his father. He couldn’t care two monkeys what the
women thought of him, but his father’s pride was like sunshine to him.
So sitting down at the table, better dressed and well kempt,
Salil began his lessons with Haajar. Today it was reading and he was to read
aloud perfectly or get a rap on the knuckles with a swishy stick that Haajar
had found a long time ago and had employed in Salil’s lessons ever since. Only
three raps today, he was getting better at reading it seemed.
Binesh, after making sure everything was in order, stationed
herself by the sitting room doorway. Fussily arranging the lavish curtains and
neatly positioning her golden bangles at equal distances. Binesh was a very
proud woman.
Soon raucous laughter echoed through the balcony arch and
everyone shifted and settled so they were looking their best. Salil heard the
scrape of the front door lock, the heavy shuffling of a tired man, before-
‘Now where is my welcome party?’ Mr Farah’s voice boomed
down the corridor before the man himself loped into sight from the shaded
corridor beyond.
Salil zoomed off the chair before anyone could say anything
to stop him, ‘Father!’ he shouted happily.
Mr Farah laughed heartily and spread his arms wide, exclaiming,
‘My little Salil, come and make a fuss of me, I’ve worked ever so hard today.’
Salil would have gratefully leapt up but he happened to
catch the eye of Binesh so skidded to a stop just short of his father’s arms
with a slight stumble, bowed respectfully and took a step back.
Mr Farah laughed again, ‘Aha, such respectful manners,’ he
observed. ‘But I think I’ll have my fill of frivolity first.’ Scooping up his
young son and plopping him on broad shoulders. At any other time Salil was sure
that his father’s wives would have said something about childish behaviour, but
with his father there, Salil felt no fear of retribution.
From his high perch Salil watched each of the women greet
and fuss over their husband, Khuzamah making her excuses afterwards to tend to
the dinner. Rubi went to fetch a bowl of water and a cloth as Haajar and Binesh
seated themselves around the low sofa which Salil was plonked on before Mr
Farah sat down next to him and cuddled the young boy closer to him.
The adults chatted, Binesh throwing jealous looks at Salil
for being allowed to sit next to her husband. Rubi accepted praise from Mr
Farah for the lovely presentation of the house as he washed his hands in the
beaten copper bowl she provided for him.
The rest of the evening was quite fine, Salil, again was
permitted to sit closest to his father at dinner and was flattered at his
father’s praise for the good meal, even if Khuzamah did take the credit.
‘So what useful lessons has Haajar taught you today, Salil?’
asked Mr Farah.
‘Many things,’ Haajar said, jumping in before Salil could
swallow his food to answer. ‘We did reading mostly, and then Salil offered to
bathe the cat while I went out shopping with the others.’
Her irony was lost on Mr Farah, but Salil noted a definite
shuffle of feet as Rubi stomped on Haajar’s foot in warning of getting too
cocky.
For a moment Salil thought his father had noticed as he
frowned slightly but he only enquired after who had escorted the women to town.
‘My brother, Majidah, attended us all the way from the front
step and back again,’ said Rubi.
Salil sat and chewed pensively as the women informed his
father about the fabricated day’s work they had all done. Salil was never sure
if his father knew Salil did all the work while the ladies bossed him about and
made more and more work for him. He remembered that one day the brother Rubi
mentioned, Majidah, had visited the house and Mr Farah had broached the subject
of Rubi not doing as much as she could around the house, but Majidah seemed to
convince his brother-in-law that there was no issue and things had carried on
as normal.
Later that night, when the sun had set and he had been sent
off to his bedroom with a kiss from his father and four icy stares from the
women, Salil mentally ticked off another day in his head. One less day until he
could try for The First Kiss.
The First Kiss of the day from the lovely Princess.
The First Kiss bestowed every Wednesday just before Sunset
prayers; the prayers which Salil took with his father, their routine excuse for
going off alone together to visit Salil’s mother.
The First kiss of the day from Chanda Farah, Aahil Farah’s
secret fifth wife.
Reenie’s Notes:
-
Aswad is an Arabic name for ‘black’, I imagine
Aswad as an overfed, mostly black tortoiseshell cat. My Thanks go to the lazy
feline next to me for his unremitting commitment to indolently lolling about
and providing the inspiration for Aswad.
-
Just as a side note, Aahil and Salil go to Chanda’s
secret room every Wednesday at 4pm under the pretext of Aahil setting that time
aside to take afternoon prayers with Salil. Aahil, Salil and Chanda pray as a
family in separate rooms and then use the rest of the time to talk to each
other.
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