My Father's Notebook by Kader Abdolah Read Free Book Online Page B

“It’s from Kazem Khan.”
    She was impatient. “I won’t beat around the bush, Zeinab Khatun. We’re looking for a good girl, a sensible woman, for our Akbar. That’s all there is to it. Do you have one for us or not?”
    The women laughed. They got a kick out of the elderly aunt.
    “Do I have one?” said the experienced Zeinab Khatun. “I’ll find one for you, even if I have to scour this entire mountain. If I can’t find a bride for Aga Akbar, who can I find one for? Sit down. Let’s drink some tea first.”
    She brought in a tray with glasses and a teapot. “Let me think. A good girl, a sensible woman. Yes, I know of one. She’s very pretty, but—”
    Auntie cut her off. “No buts! I don’t want half a woman for my nephew. I want a whole one, with all her working parts in order.”
    “Allah, Allah, why don’t you let me finish? God will be angry to hear us talking about one of His creations with such disrespect. The woman I’m referring to is beautiful and in perfect health. It’s just that one leg is shorter than the other.”
    “Oh, that doesn’t matter, as long as she can walk,” the women said.
    “Walk? Can she walk? She leaps like a gazelle. But all right, I can’t ask God why He made one leg shorter than the other. He must have had His reasons. Still, I have another woman, but she’s slightly deaf.”
    “No, we don’t want a deaf woman for Akbar,” said the elderly aunt.
    “She’s not deaf, just a little hard of hearing. She’s good and she’s also beautiful, trust me. Come to think of it, this one’s even better than the other one. Aga Akbar needs a wife who can walk, who can stand firmly on her own two feet. It doesn’t matter if she’s deaf. Aga Akbar won’t be talking to her anyway.”
    “No, Akbar won’t, but their children will.”
    “Good heavens, what am I hearing tonight! How can you say such things when you have a deaf-mute in your home? God will be angry. All right, I have another woman. She has a beautiful face, beautiful arms, a neck the colour of milk, a broad pelvis and firm buttocks. Take this woman. God will be pleased with your choice.”
      
    The next day the women went to admire Aga Akbar’s future bride. She lived in another village on Saffron Mountain. It was a short visit. Zeinab Khatun was right—the girl was beautiful. But she looked a bit ill.
    “A bit ill?” said the matchmaker. “Maybe she had a slight cold. Or maybe it’s that time of the month, you know what I mean, don’t you, ladies? Don’t worry, s he’ll be as right as rain by the time the wedding rolls around.”
    She dazzled them with her words and sent them home happy.
    A week later, as twilight fell, the men escorted the bridegroom from the village bathhouse to his home.
    Aga Akbar looked strong and healthy in his suit. The blind Sayyid Shoja was his best man. He sat on a horse with Jafar the Spider in front of him, holding the reins. They climbedthe hill to the house, where the women were to bring the bride and seven mules.
    Everyone stood around outside, waiting and watching for the procession.
    Before long, seven mules came into sight. The women let out cries of joy and a group of local musicians began to play. Aga Akbar helped his bride to dismount. He offered her his arm and escorted her, as tradition dictated, to the courtyard. Then he shut the door.
    The only person who knows exactly what took place behind those closed doors was the old woman who was hiding in the bridal chamber so she could later testify that the marriage had been consummated.
      
    As soon as the groom disappeared with his bride, the guests left. The old men sat around Kazem Khan’s and smoked until the old woman came and announced, “It’s over. He did it!”
    The men all shouted in chorus, “ Allahom salla ’ala Mohammad wa ahl-e Mohammad [Peace be upon Muhammad and all of his descendants].”
      
    Since Ishmael was Aga Akbar’s son, he was allowed to hear the story in greater detail. By