From a Crooked Rib by Nuruddin Farah

Author:Nuruddin Farah
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group

17

When they had had their dinner, Ebla wanted to know where she was to sleep for the night.

‘Here,’ said Awill.

‘Where?’ asked Ebla.

‘Of course here. Where else?’

‘What about you?’

‘Here.’

‘What about beds?’

‘On the same bed.’

‘But I can’t.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I can’t.’

‘Why?’

Ebla sat up in bed. She never expected such a trick to take place. She saw that the door had been bolted on the inside. Awill had already stood up. Ebla became frightened.

‘But we are not married,’ she protested.

‘Yes we are.’

‘How?’

‘Why did you come with me from Belet Wene?’

‘Of course to marry you.’

‘Then we are married.’

Awill went towards the door to check if he had bolted it properly. Ebla lay terrified on the bed, her elbows underneath her belly, raising her head a little bit to have a better view of what Awill was doing.

Awill came back and sat on the edge of the bed. With his back turned to her, he unknotted his shoe-laces, then pulled off his socks, which, Ebla noticed, now stank badly.

‘You are my wife,’ he said.

‘You don’t come near me,’ she retorted.

‘I said you are my wife.’

He moved towards her. Her feet were under his arms, and his face near her breasts. He crawled upward, towards her, like a crocodile. He was fully dressed and so was she. He wanted to kiss her, but he checked himself. He knew that it was uncommon in the country, and that she would not be familiar with it. She had never been kissed, he guessed.

He caught her by the arms, and whispered as if to hypnotize her: ‘You are my wife.’

Ebla wanted to get out of bed and run away. For a second she forgot that the door was bolted and that it would take her some time before she was able to unbolt it. She also forgot that Awill was in her way. It was not that he was stronger than she, but a woman never fought with a man, she should be submissive and never return his blows. A good woman should not even cry aloud when her husband beat her. ‘But this is not my husband—not yet. Maybe later. Maybe, when I have become his wife, he can do whatever he wants with me and I won’t cry,’ she thought.

Ebla’s attempt at jumping over him and running away was not successful. And the more she tried to free herself, the better chance she gave him of getting hold of her.

Awill stood up straight and showered hard blows upon Ebla—in the mouth, at her head, on her belly. He gave her a kick or two on the belly as she tried to bite him. Ebla did not cry, she wanted to, but she knew she should not. Awill grasped her by the plaited hair and pulled her down. Now he jumped over her and sat upon her belly, her body heaving underneath his.

‘You are my wife.’

‘When I have become your wife, I will accept everything. But this is rape. Do you want to rape me?’ she asked.

‘No. You are my wife.

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