Gravel Heart(65)

‘We’ll just play some records and dance and have some snacks,’ she said.

‘I would love to come,’ I said.

I had never danced in my life. What an idea! Who would I have danced with and what would Maalim Yahya have said? So I had to have a hurried tutorial from my friend Yusuf, who knew about such things and who taught me how to wriggle and wiggle to music played on the radio. Yusuf wept with laughter at my efforts, which made the exercise even less bearable. ‘Never mind, just keep wriggling your body. That’s all you need to do, it’s not going to be the kind of party where you’ll get to hold her in your arms,’ he told me. ‘It’s just a children’s picnic, really.’

When I got to the party I found it was packed with noisy young people of all ages, like the Idd fair, eating, shouting, pushing each other around, with the music scratching feebly in the background. What little room there was for dancing was occupied by a handful of exhibitionists, who thronged the record player while Tom Jones belted out ‘It’s Not Unusual’ and Ray Charles beseeched ‘Unchain My Heart’. Saida and I found a wall to lean against, and somehow our hands touched. It was only furtive hand-holding but it was enough to make everything clear. She took off her wrist-chain and gave it to me as we parted: ‘It’s only tin, painted to look like gold,’ she said. I solemnly accepted it as if it were made of precious metals.

When I saw her again, I secretly passed her a note in which I told her that her beauty outshone the moon and that she was the light of my life. I had read Romeo and Juliet by this time, which was where I got the line about her beauty outshining the moon. That she was the light of my life was my own line. She had one ready for me next time, in which she told me she loved my gentle voice and sometimes heard it in her sleep. Young love is such a beautiful thing. We saw each other almost every day, often only briefly, our encounters hard-won and sweeter for the contriving. Whenever we thought we were unobserved we held hands, and if the place was secluded enough, we kissed! Just a brief touching of parted lips and then fond smiles in retreat but it felt like sweet daring. I wrote her a note about her perfumed breath. I had a whole house to myself, but I dared not invite her to visit me there. I thought she would feel humiliated by my lack of respect and might misunderstand my motive. It never occurred to me that she would agree. At times I imagined that she was in the house with me and it thrilled me to go about my chores in the evening, pretending that she was in bed waiting for me.

One day I went to the house in Kikwajuni, as arranged, so that Bibi could have a look at me. Normally an aunt or someone like that would have dealt with this delicate business but I had no relatives to perform the task so I had to present myself for scrutiny. Bibi had a good look at me and chatted in her good-natured way, in the meanwhile slipping in several detailed questions about me and my family. She knew about my father, of course, the eminent Maalim Yahya, and my mother, but did not remember meeting either of my sisters or maybe she did when they were small. Has God blessed their move to the land of the Arabs? Inshaalah they will prosper and find a rich Arab to marry. Isn’t that what all young women think about? Saida said No, vehemently, they think about getting on with their lives. Bibi chuckled mischievously, puckering her lined and wizened lips. If I was younger I’d be looking for a rich Arab husband myself, she said. After that Saida and I were more or less betrothed. I wrote to my parents requesting their blessing, and after two months received a letter and a sum of money, which had once again been passed from hand to hand. The letter contained my parents’ blessing and an invitation for my wife and I to come and join the rest of the family in Dubai after the wedding. I put the letter with the other one from my mother, and used some of the money my father sent me to increase my share in the market stall.

*

Baba was lying back on the bed, smiling at the memory. I was smiling too as I pictured them at their happiness. He was content to stay there for a while and I was in no hurry. I knew now that Baba was reliving those times himself and that he would not hold back in describing them. I just had to let him do it his own way.

It was late by then and I realised that I would be staying until he was too tired to continue talking. His eyes were blazing with life, and I guessed that I was going to be there all night.

*

We were young when we married, like grown-up children really, but not unusually young by our ways. In those first few months we lived in a paradise of our own. Nobody bothered us. Bibi came round every few days to see us, and Bi Maryam made her presence felt in her interfering way. Saida was offered temporary work in the office of a Norwegian organisation that was studying our education system, God knows why. One of her former teachers was employed by the Norwegians and was hoping for a scholarship to Norway, and it was she who got Saida the job. So although money was short we were comfortable compared to many people. Amir also came round a lot. He was living with Bibi but I knew from Saida that he found that difficult and wanted to come and live with us, though Saida persuaded him that Bibi needed him with her.

You never knew Bibi. She was an angel, everyone said that. She was getting old then and struggling. Saida said she had been struggling for years, groaning with pain in the night and taking minutes to get up from all fours in the morning. They had partitioned a corner of the room for Amir and shared the rest of it between them, Saida on the rope-bed and Bibi on the floor. They had got rid of the bedbugs by putting the bed out in the backyard every day until the sun burnt them off, and they replaced the coir mattress with a kapok one. Every morning Saida was awakened by Bibi’s groans as she struggled to rise. She refused Saida’s help in getting up, saying it was God’s will that her body should be so stiff and feeble, and she waved away all talk of seeing a doctor. It’s only a little stiffness, she said, it will soon wear off. When Saida left to come and live with me, she felt like a deserter, an ungrateful wretch, but Bibi would not hear of any delays. I want to see my grandchild, she said, I’ve got my handsome young man here to look after me.