Malalai sat in a corner of the tent, her knees to her chest, chin resting on them. A long scarf covered her head veiling her face from any evil eye. Commotion of activity surrounded her with women of all shapes and sizes rushing, lifting, organizing, cooking, arranging. Through her veil, Malalai spotted her mother spewing orders in her strong, husky voice. She hobbled from one corner to another, assembling clothes, jewelry, dishes, and many trinkets to pack in a trunk as her voice vibrated through the tent.
A grand feast was expected at this daughter’s wedding. It was not just the joining of two young lives, not the union of children of two chiefs or just a wedding ceremony. It was an alliance, the tying of knot between two large families, of two prominent nomadic tribes.
Malalai watched with her greenish gray eyes through her veil from under lowered lashes. Her feet fidgeted in front of her as she adjusted her seat on the sandy ground, moved her chin from one knee to another or crossed and re-crossed her arms around her shins. She itched to get up to help and move about but her body was weighed down. Large oxidized silver earrings with lapis insets dangled down to her shoulders, stretching out her earlobes. A delicate silver chain pinned to the top of her head ending with a tear drop ornament. It hung from her forehead, maroon gemstone sparkling within, just above her round eyes that were thickly lined with kohl. Intricate enamel beads in blues and maroons linked together in a geometric pattern and sat splayed above her chest dangling by a silver chain around her neck. A choker with thick colorful beads strangled her around her neck, making it appear longer. A long necklace with elongated beads and gemstones suspended in elaborate patterns down to her chest, layered in several chains. She brought her hands to her foot to attack an itch under the delicate anklets but her wrists jingled with the collection of bangles and bracelets drawing attention and a glare from her mother.
Malalai helplessly watched from her corner unable to move, tears wedged around her kohl-lined eyes. Her mother had told her how brides were like princesses and must enjoy their special day all adorned in silken clothes and special jewelry. If it was up to her, she would be right in the middle of the commotion, arranging, packing, cleaning, helping, or playing outside and dressed in comfortable clothes. She had no aspiration to be princess or bride or to leave her tribe to belong to another. Her place was with her family she had known all of her 16 winters, discovering new lands, meeting strange people, trading wares from all over.
Lost in her wishful thoughts, Malalai’s ears perked as she heard her father’s growl outside her tent. She raised her head and cocked her head to listen. He was shouting orders for the young men to gather and ready their arms and ammunition. Malalai had seen this in the past when a tribe fired shots in the air to welcome honored guests. She saw her mother straighten up, listen and step out of their cocoon. In a short moment she returned flustered, churning out orders to the younger girls. Everything was hurriedly put away, the center of the pavilion cleared where buckets and water containers were assembled.
Malalai knew what this meant. She discretely started to remove her jewelry pieces one by one lightening her load. Unnoticed she slipped behind a screen and changed into her comfortable daily clothes of long shirt, loose pants and extended chador scarf covering her head.
To be continued…..
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