The World Through the Eyes of Angels

Part Eight: Hajim and Sabikaand a Long Night of Love

147 P A R T E I G H T Hajim and Sabika and a Long Night of Love “Look what he’s done to me!” Sabika said it as she lifted her worn-out dress up to her navel, and for the first time in my life I saw a woman’s pubic area, where the thick black hair lay matted at the confluence of her brown thighs. My eyes fixed on two dark smears of blood congealed on her upper thighs, and a long line of blood, also black, running down the right thigh. Sabika did not usually knock on our door in daytime. She simply pushed the door open and walked in as any member of our family would. I had a bad cold that day that had kept me from going to the market, and I had been sleeping at the front of the large room, next to the noisily spinning Japanese KDK fan that cooled the brutally hot Mosul summer air. Sabika was almost my mother’s age, and was ninety-nine percent blind. Her pupils were nearly all covered by the cloudy whitish -yellow irises. She only saw shadows, and could not make out who was in front of her. She recognized people by their voices and was unable to tell who they were unless they spoke. Children would often tease her by standing in her way, causing her to bump into them. She would laugh her pleasant laugh and begin the guessing game: “God bless you, who are you?” 148 The World Through the Eyes of Angels Whenever I asked my mother why Sabika had no family, she would reply by looking up toward heaven and saying, “It’s God’s will.” My mother screamed at the sight of the blood splotches on Sabika’s thighs. “Oh, you poor msakhameh!” This was a word meaning “soot-blackened” which was also used for raped or violated women. “Who did this to you?” Sabika let her dress down and came and sat next to my mother on the wet, cooled mat. “Who else but him?” “When did he come?” “Last night.” “Why all this blood?” Sabika began to cry. “If you only knew.” “What?” She didn’t answer, but went on crying. “Is it painful?” “Yes.” “Come with me. Get up. I’m taking you to the clinic.” Sabika begged her: “Shield me, and may God shield you. They’ll see my private parts. I don’t want to be the talk of the town. What will they think?” “All right, come and let me clean your wounds.” “With what?” “We have alcohol. The clinic gave some to Mustafa a month ago when a nail pierced his foot.” Mother placed a pillow on the mat and gently helped Sabika lie down on her back. She lifted Sabika’s dress up to her navel, and I was able to see everything clearly. Being blind, Sabika didn’t know I was in the room. Had she known, she would have refused to uncover even an inch of her body. I remained Hajim and Sabika 149 silent. My mother must have thought the fever had knocked me out, or she wouldn’t have let Sabika uncover herself in front of me. Mother cleaned the wounds on Sabika’s thighs with cotton soaked in alcohol as Sabika moaned and groaned from the pain. To calm her down my mother questioned her. “Did he come in the morning, like the garbage man?” “No, he came in the evening, and he wasn’t alone. I think there were four other men.” “Where did they sleep?” “In the ruins.” “Did you have enough mattresses?” “They used what I could gather for pillows, and slept on their cloaks.” Once my mother was done, she helped Sabika straighten up. Sabika covered her thighs and said to my mother, “I want to ask you something.” “What is it? Sabika began to cry again. My mother said, “Are your wounds hurting you? Don’t worry, the pain will go away in a few minutes.” Sabika choked on her tears and said, “No, it isn’t the wounds.” “What, then?” “Tell me, is a husband capable of doing it more than ten times a night?” Neither my mother nor I understood what she meant. My mother asked, “Do what?” “He did it to me more than ten times.” My mother cried out in distress, “Are...