Middle of Everywhere - Mary Bray Pipher [21]
This play helped me see how hard our language was for the sisters. I remembered reading the scene in The God of Small Things where the Indian narrator and her family went to the movie, The Sound of Music. The narrator misunderstood so much of what was happening on the screen.
The same thing happened to us at this play. State Fair was a total conundrum to the family. They couldn't understand the cornball, out-dated language. They didn't know what a state fair was. They had never heard of a "lickin'," a competition for prize pigs, or the game of horseshoes. They clapped at the right times, but they might as well have been watching Kabuki theater.
At one point, when the judge in the play was getting drunk from eating brandy-soaked mincemeat, Shehla asked me if he had eaten some sour pickles and was getting sick. At another point, on the fair midway, women dressed in skimpy, faux Mideastern silk pants and scarves danced erotically to lure men into a striptease show. Tanya beamed proudly to witness such beautiful Kurdish women represented in an American play. I didn't have the heart to tell her they represented the sleaze factor at the state fair.
The sisters left the musical only vaguely aware of what happened to these apron- and overall-clad farmy Iowans. Graciously Zeenat said she liked the pines in the park and Leila admired the full moon.
JULY 4
Zeenat and the sisters arrived at our house with Tanya's famous biryani. They'd bought the meat from an Arab grocer who had killed the lamb that day. It was a typical Fourth in Nebraska, about ninety-five degrees with 90 percent humidity. The air smelled of smoke and gunpowder and Lincoln boomed with a frenzy of fireworks. It was so noisy outside that we couldn't talk. Firecrackers exploded next door. Dogs barked because their ears hurt.
Leila wore cotton slacks and a simple top, but the other sisters were in fancy holiday summer wear—tank tops, short shorts, and lots of makeup. Shireen had a Madonnaesque outfit with a little porkpie hat. She carried a small American flag. Tanya wore a low-cut black silk top and blue jeans. To the sisters, one meaning of freedom was the freedom to wear American clothes. I reflected that while their clothes were sexy, their intentions were innocent: a night with Jim and me sharing biryani and homemade ice cream, then going to see our city fireworks display.
We walked through my garden looking at flowers. Shehla smelled my wild sage and said it reminded her of the spices that grew wild in the Kurdish mountains. We took photos by the trumpet vines of this new American family in sexy American clothes waving a small American flag.
Later we drove to Holmes Lake for the big city fireworks display. Thousands of people were there, but eventually we settled in below the dam on a patch of grass. We lay down on blankets, so that we were looking at exactly the right piece of sky for the fireworks.
It was a happy time, all of us lying on blankets like sparklers in a box, a breeze came up, the stars came out, and we taught each other the Kurdish and English names for the constellations. Zeenat said this park reminded her of Islamabad, her highest compliment. Shireen waved her flag at passersby.
When the fireworks began to explode, we gasped at their beauty. But between bursts, the sisters said that the fireworks made them think of the bombs over Iraq. Tonight their favorites were the gold ones, the stars, and the ones that looked like golden rain or golden tears. Afterward we held hands as we walked back toward the car. We were all tired but happy to be celebrating together. On the way home, we drove past a man holding a sign that said HONK IF YOU ARE AN AMERICAN. I said to Jim, "Honk at the guy. We all are Americans." The family clapped. Shireen waved her