One evening, soon after Hagos and the businessman had set off for their walk, Saba took out a bucket to wash herself. Her mother was out having coffee with Samhiya’s mother. Saba sat inside the bucket and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. Peace in this place was only present in her imagination, so Saba imagined she was in a river, floating naked past trees, wilderness, villages, animals, life. She felt the rain on her body.
Peace, Saba mumbled, pressing her weight into the bucket, into a moment alone so blissful. The wind caressed back. It was making love to her, or so she felt as it blew through cracks in the door and walls and gaps in the thatched roof, stroking her wet skin from all directions, kissing her ears, the bone at her nape, the curves of her breasts. Saba wanted to possess. So she arched her back, revealing more of herself to the wind, directing this mysterious lover to where she liked to be touched and how.
With the elements at her behest, suddenly the door opened, her mother storming in past her, pulling her scarf over her face.
Saba dried her body and stood by the pole, as water dripped from her hair. She wrapped her arms around herself. A tremor of unsatisfied desire went through her. It took her a while before she managed to contain the fire under her wet skin. Instead of walking up to her mother, Saba sat on her blanket and asked her mother, in a low voice, what had happened.
Her mother didn’t respond. Saba let out a long breath as if relieved by her mother’s silence. But a familiar guilt resurfaced quickly when the mother hunched herself into a ball, making herself small. Seeing her mother in this position stirred Saba’s soul, yet she couldn’t move, she couldn’t rush to her mother’s side. She was sure that in the past she had known how to react to her mother’s sadness.
Her head throbbed. She stood up, and was about to leave the hut, when the midwife arrived with Samhiya’s mother. Saba lay back on the blanket and faced the wall, but she could still hear their conversation.
You should know by now, said Samhiya’s mother. People talk. You have dodged bullets, you will survive sharp tongues. Come back, our coffee will get cold.
How can I sit there and listen to the things they are saying about my son? said the mother. You know what that man asked me, ah, why a wealthy educated businessman from the city is interested in a villager who is mute and cannot read or write?
Stop whimpering. At least they are not talking about her, for once, said the midwife, bringing a smile to Saba. And don’t let crying be your first response. Can you not see it is good news?
What’s good about people belittling my son?
Saba smiled when her mother talked back at the midwife, an elation that didn’t last when the midwife said: Think for yourself and try to understand why Eyob is doing it. I expected you to realize this, but let me explain.
You don’t need to explain, said the mother. That man told me my son is … I can’t even say it.
God forgive us, said the midwife. Don’t even say it. We don’t have these things in our culture. Eyob is a man of God. He was married and he has a son. How can he do that if he goes with boys, ah? But people in this camp are jealous of your son and you.
The midwife laughed. Listen to this carefully. Men, my dear, are easy to read. The businessman is in love with Saba and he is waiting for her to become a woman.
That makes sense, Saba heard Samhiya’s mother say. In our country, men used to buy jewellery to make a girl love them. But we are in a camp, and all we have left is each other to use to get what we want.
Saba lifted the scarf off her face and glared at the wall. The women talked about her as if she wasn’t in the hut. As if she couldn’t hear. Yet, she was the centre of their attention. And for that they had to make her invisible in their eyes.
Saba turned her attention back to the women. The midwife’s words seemed to placate Saba’s mother. But then her tone sounded heavy, as if all sorrows passed through her throat at the same time as her words when she lamented that her daughter would marry before her older brother.
Hagos was in Saba’s mind later that evening as she watched her brother return from his evening stroll with the businessman. Eyob stood on the other side of the square, close to the aid centre. Hagos stopped and turned to look back at the businessman. He waved and continued on his way home, towards Saba.
Until now, before overhearing that conversation between the women earlier, Saba had imagined other reasons for Eyob’s befriending of Hagos. She knew people liked to talk and were in need of good listeners, but it was also clear that the businessman appreciated silence. Hagos could provide Eyob with both: listen whenever he wanted to talk and be quiet whenever he preferred silence, without having to be asked.
This advantage people had over Hagos wasn’t new. Saba remembered the times back home when she overheard her cousin telling Hagos about her love affairs. Without a voice, Hagos was a safe with keys that no one would ever find. Saba knew this very well, and felt total freedom in his presence. She’d even masturbate knowing that even if he woke up, he couldn’t tell anyone. Her desires and secrets were safe in Hagos’s chest.
Hagos hugged Saba. She smelt Eyob’s cologne on his skin and that confirmed in her mind how close the businessman was getting to Hagos in order to get to her. Yes, she loved her brother but she never meant for that love to carry another man to her on its wave.
Hagos took off his shirt and lay in his blanket, facing the wall. Saba sat next to him. Sweat rolled down his back. Saba steadied her hand as she wiped perspiration off his skin. She imagined some time from now when Eyob would succeed and her brother would be left behind, dying a virgin as the men at Azyeb’s bar had predicted.