Mayada by Jean Sasson

Author:Jean Sasson [Jean Sasson]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781448126392
Publisher: Transworld
Published: 2007-07-04T16:00:00+00:00

Other voices began softly to hum, learning the new words as they went along. As the women continued singing, five additional guards stalked into the room. They held rifles at their sides.

The warden shouted, “Face the wall! Prepare to die!”

The shadow women moved together into a crowded circle, weeping and clinging to each other. Two of the oldest women fainted.

Three or four guards rushed at those women and began to pull their hair and strike them in their faces with balled fists. Their groans of pain mingled with the sounds of women’s screams and men’s laughter.

Mayada felt herself shutting down. It was God’s will that these were her last moments on earth. She closed her eyes and covered her face with her hands. She prepared herself for the end, because she had no choice.

She heard the warden hoarsely call bitter and sarcastic words, “Pray to your God, if you will. But He will not hear you. I am your God today!”

The warden couldn’t stop laughing. “I am your God!”

The men laughed with him.

Loud laughter echoed around and around the room.

The laughter was driving Mayada mad. She held her breath, waiting for the bullets to strike her body.

Then she heard a number of clicks.

The guards were preparing their weapons.

Sara cried out, “Mother! Mother!”

A guard batted her in the face.

Muna was sobbing and clinging to Mayada’s neck. “I cannot die. I have a baby who needs his mother. I am too young to die!”

Mayada’s mind was racing. Would she feel the bullets as they entered her body? Would she feel pain? Would she black out?

The men continued laughing.

The shadow women waited for death.

No gunshots rang out.

The shadow women waited longer.

Finally Mayada opened her eyes and cautiously turned her head without moving her body.

The men’s guns were pointed to the floor.

The only thing raised in their direction was a camera.

The other women began opening their eyes to look at the guards.

“Turn around,” the man with the camera ordered. “Face forward.”

Mayada froze. Perhaps the cameraman was there to record their deaths by gunfire. She knew that the government often took photographs of executions. Would her execution be shown on television? Is that how her children would discover she was dead? Through a television show?

The warden shouted, “You are a mighty bunch, I must say.” He spat on the ground in disgust at their fear and terror. “I praise Allah that I have a wife and sisters and daughters at home that do not even know how to buy groceries at the market,” meaning that they were so pious they did not go out of the home. “And look at you, a bunch of filthy criminals. You are a disgrace to your families. And cowards, too.”

He spat once again.

The warden informed them, “You are here to have your pictures taken.” Then he began laughing so hard that he doubled over and slapped his thigh.

The rest of the guards laughed loudly. One guard began to imitate their fear. He hovered in a corner and mimicked Sara, yelling, “Mother! Mother!”

The guards laughed even louder.

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