Read Online Burned alive by Souad - Free Book Online Page A

already nightfall. His father has given him a house; without it he is not a man. Hussein’s house is in the village, not very far from my parents’ house. The two of them go off on foot alone. We cry as we watch them go. Even my brother is in tears. We weep because she has left us, we weep because we don’t know what will happen to her if she’s not a virgin for her husband. We are anxious. We will have to wait for the moment when the husband will display the white linen from the balcony or attach it to the window at daybreak so the people can verify officially the presence of the bride’s blood. This linen must be visible to everyone, and as many people as possible from the village should come to see it. It is not enough if there are only two or three witnesses. The proof could be contested, you never know.
    I remember their house, their courtyard. There was a stone and cement wall around it. Everyone was standing there waiting. All of a sudden my brother-in-law came out with the linen, and that set off the ululations. The men whistle, the women sing, clap their hands, because he has presented the linen. It is a special linen that is placed on the bed for the first night. Hussein tacks it up on the balcony with white clothespins on each side. The wedding is all in white, the pins are white. The blood is red. Hussein acknowledges the crowd with a wave of his hand and goes back in. This is a victory.
    The sheep’s blood, the blood of the virgin woman, always blood. I remember that on every Eid, my father would kill a sheep. The blood would fill a basin, and he would dip a rag in it for painting the entrance door and the tiled floor. To get inside, you had to pass through this door painted in blood. It made me sick. Everything he killed made me sick with fear. When I was a child, I was forced, like the other children, to watch my father kill chickens, rabbits, sheep. My sister and I were convinced he could twist our necks just like a chicken’s, drain our blood like the sheep’s. The first time I was so terrorized that I hid between my mother’s legs so I wouldn’t see it, but she made me look. She wanted me to know how my father killed so I would be part of the family, so I wouldn’t be afraid. I was always afraid anyway, because the blood represented my father.
    The day after the wedding, along with everyone else, I looked at my sister’s blood on the white linen. My mother was weeping, and so was I. We cry a lot on this occasion because we want to show our joy and salute the honor of the father who has kept the bride a virgin. And we cry also with relief, for Noura has passed the great test. The only test of her life, except for proving she can produce a son. I hope for the same thing for myself, it’s expected. And I’m very happy that she’s married, and now it will soon be my turn. It is strange, but at this moment I don’t even think about Kainat, as if my sister who is older than me by a year doesn’t count. But she has to be married before I can be!
    And then the guests go home. We have to dismantle the courtyard. It’s the job of the bride’s family to wash the serving dishes, clean the courtyard, and there is much to do. Sometimes the neighbor women come to give a hand, but not always.
    After her marriage, Noura doesn’t come much to the house. She has no reason to go out, because she has to take care of her family. But a short time after the wedding, less than a month in any case, she came back to our house, crying and complaining to Mama. Since I couldn’t ask what had happened, I spied on them from the top of the stairs. Noura showed her bruises. Hussein had struck her so hard that she had bruises on her face, too. She lowered her pants to show her violet thighs, and my mother wept. He must have dragged her on the ground by her hair, all the men do that. But I didn’t find out why he had beaten her. Sometimes it’s enough if the young bride doesn’t know how to cook very well, she forgets