Woman Who Fell From the Sky - Jennifer Steil [26]
“Yes!”
“Well, that’s half the population, after all,” I said. “That gives you something to work with. You could certainly find plenty to write about women and children.” My brain was already at work, churning out story ideas for her. She could write about what was being done to combat the illiteracy of 70 percent of Yemen’s women. Or the astronomical maternal mortality rate. Or the polio epidemic that continued to cripple children. Or …
She nodded. “So?”
“We can find a way for you to do this.”
“But you think I can do it? Jennifer, I want this so much; I have chosen this. I need you to help me.” Tell me you believe in me.
“Zuhra. If this is really what you want, you absolutely can do this. And I will help you every way I can.”
She squeezed my hands even more tightly. “I won’t let you down,” she said. “I want to make you proud of me. Just as long as I have your help.”
“You do, you do!” But my stomach twisted. I had no idea how much I could really help her. How, I wondered, was I ever going to be able to tell her everything she needed to know in three inadequate weeks?
I should have known then. I couldn’t.
THE NEXT DAY, I ducked into my classroom for a minute to fetch something and discovered the women having their lunch. Somehow I had failed to notice that the women were never with us when I ate with the men outside in the courtyard. Faris had always invited me to eat with the men as an honorary member of the sex. We ate standing up, dipping Yemeni baguettes called roti into a communal pot of stewed beans called ful. How could I have forgotten the women? Of course they couldn’t lift their veils to eat among the men!
Now the women were laughing at the surprise on my face. Wait a minute, I could see them laughing. They had mouths and noses and white teeth! They had lifted their veils. It had taken me a moment to realize this.
“You have never seen us before!” they cried out gleefully. It took me a minute to figure out who they were. I didn’t recognize them without their niqabs! I had to start with the eyes, the only part of them I knew. The long lashes belonged to Arwa, the large round eyes to Enass, and the smiling, almond-shaped eyes were Radia’s.
“Come, eat with us,” said Arwa.
“I’d love to!” I said. I was trying not to stare too hard at them, for fear of making them shy. I had not yet been alone with the women, not yet been privy to this secret society. I wanted to memorize their faces before they disappeared again.
They were so much easier with me away from the men. They laughed more often, spoke more freely, and teased each other. Every time a knock came on the door, they hastily flipped down their veils.
Enass, the paper’s secretary, said that all the men tell her how smart I am. That I am the smartest woman they have ever met.
“Really?” I said, elated.
“They say this,” she replied.
One of the other girls said something to her in Arabic and they argued for a minute. “Oh!” Enass said, turning back to me. “I didn’t mean smart. I meant pretty! I got confused.”
“Oh.” My face fell. “I think I’d rather they thought I was smart.”
I was disappointed that Zuhra wasn’t with us. I didn’t know if she had gone home for lunch or already eaten. But then, just as I opened the door to leave, she flew toward it from outside. Clutching my arm, she dragged me back into the conference room.
“You haven’t seen me!” she said. She pulled me past the door and closed it tightly behind us. Then, as we stood facing each other just inside the doorway, she drew back her niqab. Unlike the other women, she yanked off her hijab as well, loosing thick ink-black hair that tumbled to her waist.
“Why, you’re adorable!” I couldn’t help myself. She really was, with chubby brown cheeks, dimples, and flashing black eyes. She glowed with pride, laughing, as she turned this way and that to let me admire her.
I can’t express how thrilling this was. They had let me into their world; they had trusted me with their faces.
“People have the wrong idea