99 Nights in Logar by Jamil Jan Kochai

Author:Jamil Jan Kochai
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Canada
Published: 2019-01-07T16:00:00+00:00

The Widow’s Tale

“Her name is Khaista,” Abo said, “which once suited her since she had been a great beauty in her day. And as it goes with great beauties, many lonely men sprang up from all over the village to wait at the door of her compound. But to get to her, they had to get through her mother and father, decent people, to be honest, and her six idiot brothers, none of whom had accomplished a single thing in their lives except having a pretty girl for a sister.

“Eventually, though, as it goes, the suitor with the best reputation and the biggest dowry was able to win her dusmal. A young, handsome fellah by the name of Atal. So things started off well for her. All in all. It was only after the nikkah that her life turned to ash.

“Although an imam had made the nikkah between Khaista and Atal official, giving them the holy right to fuck as much as they pleased, poor Khaista was beset by her six idiot brothers, whose ghairat revealed itself only in times of ease or during opportunities for cruelty. They had not wanted their sister to sleep with her husband until after the actual wedding, which was still a few months away. So when the six wicked wives of the six idiot brothers reported to them that their sister was pregnant, the six brothers fell upon her one morning, beating her savagely for many hours in an attempt to kill the child in her belly. But being the fuckups that they were, they couldn’t kill the poor baby with the first beating or the second or the third.

“After the fourth or fifth beating, poor Khaista, who was maybe fifteen at the time, was so afraid for her own life that she went and drank an entire canister of oil, hearing from some old whore that the oil would kill the child without ending her in the process. But, by the will of God, she and her baby both outlasted the poison. That was until . . .”

Here Abo’s voice got so low, her whispers so quiet, I was halfway hanging off of the roof just to hear her story. Gwora scribbled away at his journal while Mirwais held my legs with his little arms.

“Eventually, she gave birth. . . .”

I scooted a bit closer.

“And about a month later, the Russians and the Khalqian started their killings. . . .”

Gwora tossed his journal, held on to one of my legs and Mirwais to the other.

“So at sixteen she was widowed and shunned and with a baby. . . .”

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