Daughter of Sheena (10)

Behnaz Zarrabizadeh

Daughter of Sheena-10

Memories of Qadamkheyr Mohammadi Kanaan
Wife of Sardar Shaheed Haj Sattar Ebrahimi Hajir
Memory writer: Behnaz Zarrabizadeh
Tehran, Sooreh Mehr Publications Company, 2011 (Persian Version)
Translated by Zahra Hosseinian

Chapter VI
The night before wedding day, Samad came back from military base and came to our house several times until midnight, with various excuses.
The next day my brother, Iman, followed me. Recently he had bought a Red pickup truck. He picked me up. My sister-in-law, Khadijah, sat beside me. I would look down, but I could see outside under Chador and red net cloth which was thrown over my face. Joyfully and by hollering, village children would run toward pickup and some of them had ridden the rear cargo. The pickup was shaking by the sound of children’s foot and their jumping up and down, seems like all children of the village were into the pickup bed. My brother was worried about his new car. "They damage the pickup now." He said. Samad's house was a few alleys away from our house.
Shirin-jan, who had not noticed when I’ve ridden the pickup, frantically followed me. As she said terms of endearment, dropped me off the car and with blessings and holding the holy Quran up in the air, wanted me to pass under it. My father wasn’t there. Although in our village it was not a custom that the bride's father should attend in his daughter's wedding ceremony; but on those last minutes, I wished to see my father. Helped by my sister-in-law, Khadija, I rode the pickup. Shirin-jan and I were crying the whole way and did not want to get separated. Khadija began to cry when she saw the tears of me and my mother. The pickup took off finally and I parted from Shirin-jan. All the way to Samad's house, I cried and Khadijah either.
When we arrived, the groom's family who were waiting us, moved toward the pickup. They opened the door and one of them took my hand to get out. The smell of Peganum harmala’s smoke had filled the alley. People would utter Salavat .(1) One of the men in the family, who had a good voice, sang beautiful songs about the Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) and others would utter salutations.
Samad had gone on the roof and accompanied by his groomsmen, would threw pomegranate, sugar and sugar-candy into the alley. Every moment I would wait for a sugar-candy or a pomegranate fall on my head, but Samad could not bring himself throwing something toward me. The wedding was continued by inviting the guests to lunch. Guests returned to their homes at afternoon. Close relatives stayed and were busy preparing dinner.
The first two days, Samad and I did not come out of the room because of embarrassment. Samad's mother brought us breakfast, lunch and dinner in a tray and called Samad and said: "Food is behind the door."
We would keep watch and when we became sure that nobody is there, we picked up the tray and ate the food.
It was custom that the second night, bride’s family was visited by groom's family. In the afternoon of that day, I was restless. I had become ready and sat down in the corner of room. I wanted everyone to know how much I’ve missed my parents and not to take time. Finally we ate dinner and got ready to go.
I was as happy as the day was long. I wanted to run faster than anyone to arrive soon. So I moved along. Samad was followed right behind me and pulled my Chador.
When we got to my father’s house, I jumped for joy. I hugged my father, as I saw him, and started kissing him as usual; first I kissed his right eye, then his left eye, his right and left cheek, tip of his nose, and even his ears. Shirin-jan had stood in the corner, crying and whispering: "God! Never be disappointed to God, my gorgeous daughter."
Samad’s family would look at me with surprise. No girl in Qayesh would kiss her father like this in front of others. A few hours I was in my father's house, I had a different feeling. I felt that I am newborn. I sat down a little beside my father, took his hands and put them on my eyes or kissed them. Sometimes I sat down next to Shirin-jan, hugged her and said words of endearment.
Finally, going time came. It was very hard to part with my parents. By the door, I went and came back ten times. I would kiss my father all the way and said to my mother, "Shirin-jan, take care of my Haj Agha. I ask you to look after him. First God, then you and Haj Agha.”
Contrary to coming time, I walked slowly in the way back. I strolled, and I was in long distance behind others. Out of sight of others I cried.
Samad said nothing. He looked after me not to fall into pot-holes of narrow and dusty alleys.
The next day Samad went. He had to go. He was soldier. Home became like prison for me by his going. Samad's mother was pregnant. I, who would never lift a hand in my father’s house, had to wash dishes, sweep the rooms, and read dough for ten or twelve people. My hands were small and I would not give the dough a good kneading to smooth.
It was Aban .(2) The air had become cold, and the yellow and dry leaves of the trees fell in the yard. For hours in that cold weather, I had to sweep leaves every day.
Two weeks had passed of our marriage. Samad’s mother went to his daughter’s house one day. "I'm going to Shahla’s home, you cook dinner." before going she said to me.
In those two weeks I had done everything, except cooking. There was no choice. I went into the kitchen, which was a ground floor room of the house. I turned on the primus stove. I poured water into pot and put it over the primus, then waited for its boiling. The flame of Primus stove decreasing and increasing in tandem, and I had to pump it so didn’t go out.
Eventually the water started to boil. I poured the rice that I cleaned and washed them, into boiling water. My hands had become numb by apprehension. I did not know when I had to take the pot from the Primus. Samad’s sister, Kobra, came to help me. I was praying that I could cook a good dinner. Kobra said, "Now it is the time, let's take It.”, When rice boiled a few minutes.
We both helped each other and took the pot and poured the rise into strainer. I began to fry potatoes, onions and meat for middle of steamed rise, when we steamed boiled rise.
The night fell and all the family members came to home. I served the food, but I didn’t go to room of fear. I sat down in the corner of kitchen and began to pray. Kobra called me. By fear and trembling I went into the room.
Samad's mother had sat down on the top of the spread. Empty platters of steamed rise were in the center of spread. All were busy eating. They ate and said: "How much tasty, excellent!"
Tomorrow morning a neighbor came to visit my mother-in-law. I was sweeping the yard. I heard my mother-in-law praised my cooking skill. "You don’t know last night Qadamkheyr cooked what a delicious food for us.” She said, “Her cooking skill is excellent. After all, she is Shirin-jan’s daughter.”
It was the first time I felt comfortable on that home.

1. A commonly-used salutation invoking God to bless the Holy Prophet, his house, and his companions.
2. Aban (Persian: آبان, Persian pronunciation: [ɒːˈbɒːn]) is the eighth month of the Iranian calendar. Aban has 30 days. It begins in October and ends in November by the Gregorian calendar. Aban is the second month of autumn.

To be continued…