Hajj Muhammad was not entirely happy about turning down Aisha’s engagement to Hajj Abd al-Qadir’s son, but neither was he too upset. He had no knowledge of the son, Muhammad, who was supposed to marry Aisha. Since he was acquainted with the boy’s father and would have been content to have him as an in-law, he had not even given any thought to whether he knew the boy. Likewise, Hajj Abd al-Qadir did not know Aisha, the girl he wanted to be married to his son. He too had given no thought to whether he knew her or anything about her, since he was acquainted with her father and would have been content to have him as an in-law. Hajj Muhammad’s motivation for approving the marriage was thus not inspired by any particular desire on his part or by some unassailable logic, but rather by Hajj Abd al-Qadir’s wealth. Such wealth was not the exclusive preserve of Hajj Abd al-Qadir, though; Fez had many such people.
However, Khaduj could not tolerate the blow. She had looked forward to celebrating Aisha’s wedding and could not even conceive of turning down a rich Fez family who had come to ask for her daughter’s hand. She regarded the rejection as a bad omen for her daughter. Chance never likes to be frustrated, otherwise it can go on forever.
She felt pessimistic. She worried that all the families in Fez who might be inclined to link themselves to her family through marriage would now know about this particular affair – the rejection of a marriage proposal without good reason. They could all talk about how beautiful Aisha was and how unsullied her reputation, but what if she reached the age of eighteen without another family of the same calibre coming to ask for her hand? Her life would be ruined.
No such worries were going through Aisha’s mind; she was simply delighted by the removal of the shadow that had been causing her so much distress. It was not Muhammad, Hajj Abd al-Qadir’s son, in particular who was that shadow, but rather any Muhammad, any prospective husband. She could only look into the future through Saadiyya’s eyes.
‘Poor Saadiyya!’ she thought to herself. ‘Happy in her own universe… She’s achieved her own identity and dreams, tranquil dreams undisturbed by a man, a husband, glances that might cause scandal, dreams unflustered by knowledge.’
Even so, Aisha could not avoid listening to the siren call that came to her every time she was on her own. It would hail her from afar and grow in volume as it drew closer and closer, until the point came when it overwhelmed her senses and shattered her nerves. The spell of it would take over her entire self, presenting her with a picture of a wonderful life as open as a spring rose in bloom. But then it would shout again, pulsing and throbbing through her veins, raging, shaking all her senses, and robbing her of sleep.
As she lay awake in the black robe of all-enveloping darkness, she thought about men and husbands. ‘I was stupid to object and refuse to get married,’ she told herself. ‘Will I ever get another chance?’ she asked herself in despair.
There was no immediate response to that question, but every time Aisha found herself shrouded in darkness, the issue hounded her. That siren call in all its magic and softness kept haunting her, pulsing noisily through her veins.
And the whispering started again, all eyes staring silently in her direction. No one dared spread the rumours or talk openly. This time, Yasmine did not dare share what she knew with Aisha. She could still feel the pain that had wracked her conscience whenever she recalled how she had let Aisha know about the event that she had assumed would be a happy one. She had managed to arouse Aisha’s dearest hopes. But then the whole thing had gone up in smoke. No doubt it had left a residue of pain in Aisha’s heart. Yasmine felt a sense of responsibility for it all.
There was still one person who did not resort to whispering. He felt obliged to make the person most concerned by it aware of what was happening, so that she could be the one to make her own decision about her future. Abd al-Rahman confronted Hajj Muhammad on the subject.
‘Before you consult anyone else,’ he told his father, ‘you must find out what Aisha thinks.’
Hajj Muhammad was astonished. He had never imagined that any discussion of the subject with Abd al-Rahman would involve finding out what Aisha wanted. He had been the one to decide that Abd al-Ghani would be married; he had chosen the family and bridegroom himself without Abd al-Ghani, his mother, or the bride knowing anything about it. No one in the family had objected, or asked to be consulted. But this time he had agreed to ask Abd al-Rahman’s opinion, and now his son was forcing him to make yet another concession, asking Aisha what she felt about the matter. So, was Aisha now going to decide her own future? Was she going to choose the husband she wanted?
A wave of pain, despair, and humiliation came over him as he turned things over in his mind before responding to Abd al-Rahman. He could not bring himself to speak, but simply stared wide-eyed at his son and frowned; the pain he felt robbed him of all grace and dignity. As he stared at Abd al-Rahman, his expression was a mix of anger, despair, bewilderment, and resignation. He stood up, unable to bear talking any more with his son, whose rebellion had now reached the stage of demanding that his father renounce the status he had proudly maintained all his life.
Abd al-Rahman sensed that he had won, and allowed himself a cryptic smile as he walked out behind his father – a figure with bowed head and bent back.
‘Come here, Aisha! Have you heard the news?’ he said.
When Aisha looked up in response to her brother’s call, her expression was more open and confident than before. She made no attempt to hide anything or put on a display of fake surprise. ‘I’ve been hearing whispers,’ she told him, ‘but nothing’s clear and no one’s told me anything.’
‘A young man named Ahmad from a middle-class family has asked for your hand. He’s a teacher at a primary school.’ At this point Abd al-Rahman paused to assess his sister’s reaction, as though interpreting impressions other than those caused by the mere shock.
When Aisha heard the news, the confidence she had been feeling totally deserted her. All she took from Abd al-Rahman’s statement was the surface of the words. She did not take in ‘young man’, ‘Ahmad’, ‘a teacher who’s asked for your hand in marriage’; instead, it was ‘a man’, ‘a husband’ – someone with whom you did not exchange glances and behind whom there had to be some scandal.
She looked unhappy, but this time she did not blush in embarrassment. Instead, she turned as pale as death, and her eyes looked down as though searching for something on the ground. It seemed she could not face the reality of what Abd al-Rahman had told her. Her lips quivered, as though searching involuntarily for words to reflect the distress she was feeling. ‘This time they’re going to marry me off, whether I want it or not,’ her thoughts kept telling her. ‘They’ll thrust me at a man… It’s so difficult! If only, if only Yasmine would explain to me precisely what the scandal actually is. I don’t want it, I don’t want it!’
Abd al-Rahman was aware that the news was upsetting Aisha. He was anxious to give her the opportunity to be on her own and think about things without him there to influence her. As he was about to leave, the situation felt as though a gust of wind were blowing on someone struggling for breath.
‘Think about it, Aisha,’ he told his sister. ‘Now you have the chance to think seriously about things and make a conscious decision about your own future.’ He did not wait for a response, but as he left the room he asked himself, ‘Why did she blanch when I told her someone had asked for her hand?’
It turned out that Aisha did not raise any objections, and Abd al-Rahman convinced her that Ahmad was a nice young man. He himself would have no objections to her marrying him.
Hajj Muhammad was not entirely happy when Khaduj told him that Aisha had accepted the proposal. He had always had the feeling that Aisha, as the youngest of his children after Abd al-Latif, had inherited his own ideas and decisions. Even so, he was still delighted that her response was positive: he could not bear to think of yet another proposal being rejected because Aisha had refused.
Hajj Muhammad put on a huge celebration for his daughter’s wedding, the very best possible. He was anxious to show the family of Hajj Abd al-Qadir every detail concerning the parties, the trousseau, and the gifts that accompanied Aisha as she moved to her husband’s house. He was equally keen for the streets of Fez to be witnesses throughout the seven days of celebration to the gifts and spreads of food amid all the ululations of bridesmaids and the traditional chants. But beyond that, and above all, he was anxious to hear the news that was on the minds of the bride’s mother and father, as Aisha was to become the lady of a household where her husband would be expected to acknowledge his new wife’s purity, chastity, and virtue.
The first few days rolled slowly by, spoiled by the emergence of discouraging news from the bridal bower. Shouts of encouragement began to batter Aisha’s shyness, and confronted Ahmad, her husband, with an almost scandalous candour. The lively smiles that the bridal couple kept exchanging with each other could not lessen the tension felt by both their families. In both households, whispers began to spread among the female celebrants.
‘A problem with penetration?’
‘No… She just doesn’t want it.’
No one had any real idea of what was actually happening – or not happening – inside the bridal bower. The bridal facilitator tried to intervene to break down the wall of silence between the couple, but Ahmad politely sent her away and paid her the amount usually anticipated for announcing the glad tidings. He had to handle Aisha’s resistance patiently, treating her frowns as smiles and her silence as speech. But every time he approached her as a newly-wed husband would his bride, she surprised him by blanching, turning cold, and forcefully rejecting his advances.
Ahmad did not give up; he attributed her behaviour to her innocence and youth. Even so, he started feeling the burden of this relationship which had yet to take its natural course, not to mention his own responsibility to society, the two families, and his friends.
For her part, Aisha felt no such responsibility towards her family and friends. She gave no response to the messages being sent by Khaduj through her messengers, who would visit the bride every morning for one reason or another. Aisha simply resorted to silence and to the world of her own thoughts.
‘Men! So here I am, now faced with one, trying to impose his evil on me. He’s the kind of person Yasmine warned me about, still doing his best to rape me. He keeps on being violent, forceful, and difficult. Where can I escape to now to avoid his stares, and indeed his clutches, when I’m actually right in front of him?’
‘But he’s nice and polite,’ an alert consciousness kept shouting at her. ‘He’s treating you kindly and showing you his affection and love. He’s not showing any signs of violence or anger.’
Then the image of Yasmine appeared in front of her dreamy eyes. ‘Don’t trust men, my little one!’ she had told her. ‘Treachery and scandal, that’s what they involve.’ Once again she found herself in a whirlwind, making her even more confused and lost.
Ahmad went on living with Aisha, showing her love, affection, and sympathy, looking after her as though she were still a spoiled little child. She in turn gave him her heart, her love, and her loyalty. And yet, every time he tried to approach her, he became the cruel man, the would-be rapist behind whom some scandal or other was lurking.