The Haj - Leon Uris [69]
After a few months Ramiza became pregnant and the first burst of my father’s ardor diminished rapidly. He yelled at her frequently and at times punctuated his displeasure by slapping her. Nada and I would often find her weeping softly in a corner of the kitchen and muttering her puzzlement.
When Ramiza’s room had been completed in the spring and a second bedstead installed, only then did he allow my mother to get off the floor and return to her bedroom.
Neither Ramiza nor my mother was giving him much sexual satisfaction and it angered him. However, he did return Oman to tend the stalls so he could get Hagar back into the kitchen; he gave her specific orders to teach Ramiza how to cook and take care of her duties properly.
When Hagar returned to her kitchen she scarcely spoke to Ramiza but admonished her constantly as ‘that dirty little Bedouin wart.’ Ramiza began to show her pregnancy and became sick in the mornings and whimpered constantly. Hagar slowly began to be humane to her. I think that their friendship truly started when both of them realized it was no great pleasure or honor to sleep with Haj Ibrahim and derogatory little remarks crept into their conversation about the crudeness of his lovemaking. Then the two women began sharing secrets as a mother to a daughter. I believe Ramiza liked Hagar better than she liked Haj Ibrahim. She clung to my mother’s skirts to keep from making mistakes and every now and then Hagar took the blame for something Ramiza had done wrong.
One day Hagar was midwifing. I was home from school with a fever and had tucked myself away in my favorite spot in the kitchen where I was out of everyone’s sight but still had enough light to read by. Ramiza was about seven months pregnant and huffing and puffing about. She finally grunted to a seat on the milking stool and listlessly pumped the churn, making cheese of goat’s milk.
Nada scratched herself unconsciously between her legs, a kind of scratch that would have brought a sharp slap and rebuke had Hagar been present.
‘Do you feel anything there?’ Ramiza asked.
‘Where?’
‘In your sacred place where you just scratched yourself.’
Nada quickly dropped her hands and her cheeks turned crimson.
‘Don’t worry,’ Ramiza said, ‘I won’t tell on you.’
Nada smiled gratefully.
‘Well, does it feel good?’ Ramiza asked again.
‘I don’t know. I think it feels good. Yes, I guess it does. I know it is forbidden. I must be more careful.’
‘You might as well go on feeling yourself as long as you like it,’ Ramiza said. ‘I suppose you must still have one.’
‘Still have what?’ Nada’s eyes widened with fear. ‘If you mean the membrane of honor, of course I still have it!’
‘No,’ Ramiza said. ‘The little button hidden beneath the membrane of honor. Do you still have it?’
‘Yes, I still have it,’ Nada said haltingly. ‘I have felt the button.’
‘Then you must enjoy it as long as they let you keep it.’
‘What do you mean? Won’t I always have it?’
‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ Ramiza said. ‘I shouldn’t have told you.’
‘Please, you must tell me ... please ... please.’
Ramiza stopped churning and bit her lip, but after looking at Nada’s pleading eyes, she knew she had to tell. ‘It must be a secret. If your parents knew I told you I would get a severe beating.’
‘I promise. May the Prophet burn me on the Day of the Fire.’
‘It is the pleasure button,’ Ramiza said. ‘Girls are not supposed to keep it.’
‘But why?’
‘Because, as long as you have the pleasure button, it makes you look at boys. One day you might even let a boy touch it and if you enjoy it you may not be able to control yourself. You could even let him break your membrane of honor.’
‘Oh no! I would never do that!’
‘The button is evil,’ Ramiza said. ‘It makes girls do things against their will.’
‘Oh ...’ Nada whispered. ‘But don’t you have your button?’
‘No, it was taken from me. I did nothing wrong, but it was removed to take away temptation. They will take yours too. Once it is gone you will not care about boys and