Leon Uris (15 page)

Walid Azziz, who had not seen Gideon since the war, started suddenly when he saw that he had lost his left hand. And the ancient sheik did something few men had ever witnessed. He wept.

I
T DID NOT TAKE LONG
for the party to disintegrate. Shortly after Gideon arrived and after the long journey and orgy of food, the old sheik suddenly looked as if he had been struck comatose. The villagers drifted off while many of the Bedouin toppled over where they had been sitting and broke into a chorus of snores.

Although many of the Bedouin were clansmen, uncles and cousins of the villagers, the villagers locked their doors tightly, hid their valuables, and counted their daughters.

Haj Ibrahim walked Gideon to a place out of the village proper near the highway where they could be alone. The muktar seemed terribly anxious.

‘I was afraid you weren’t coming back in time for my marriage,’ Ibrahim said.

‘You know I wouldn’t miss it.’

‘Tomorrow we complete the arrangement,’ Ibrahim continued. ‘She is an exquisite, magnificent flower, a fawn. I am very fortunate. What do you think about all of it, Gideon? Perhaps taking a second wife is something the Jews ought to think about. That way you can have many more children.’

‘It only means you’ll have that many more plotting against you.’

‘Hah! No matter. My brother Farouk has been cheating me for years. I am certain that my oldest son, Kamal, is also cheating me. But I am a compassionate man. If a brother and a son spend their lives working for you and you are wealthy and they are poor, then they cheat you. Don’t make your dog starve, I say, for someone else will give him a piece of bread and take him away. Believe me, I have gained enough wisdom to control a second family.’

Haj Ibrahim cleared his throat a number of times, a clear indication to Gideon that he was wiggling up to a tender subject. ‘I have to bring up a very delicate matter. You are the only friend I can trust with such a confidence.’ Ibrahim became grim. ‘This is the most confidential revelation of my entire life,’ he said. ‘I am putting my greatest earthly secret in your hands.’

‘Are you sure you ought to?’

‘I trust you, at least I think I trust you.’

‘Very well. What is it?’

Haj Ibrahim repeated his throat-clearing performance, then leaned very close to Gideon and lowered his voice, although no one was within earshot.

‘The girl, Ramiza, is very young and I have been through many harvests.’ He emitted a deep, deep, deep sigh and did it over again. ‘It is vital that I make a great impression because this marriage is one of the most important to take place inside the Wahhabi tribe for many years. Gideon, my friend, in recent times I have had some failures.’

‘What kind of failures?’

The muktar waved his hands about and grumbled. ‘Failures of the most humiliating kind. It is certainly not my fault. I simply cannot find Hagar that attractive anymore. I know there has been women’s gossip around the water well. Hagar has intimated that there is no longer satisfaction between us. I must make an important impression on my new wife or I will be ruined.’

‘You’re speaking about your role as a man, a lover in bed, are you not?’

Ibrahim groaned long and shook his head. ‘I cannot understand it. It has only begun to happen since the last harvest and only once in a while.’

Gideon nodded that he understood and felt for Haj Ibrahim’s embarrassment. The centerpiece of an Arab man’s existence was his masculinity. Known impotence was the most horrendous disgrace that could befall a man.

‘What am I supposed to do?’ Gideon asked.

‘I know that your people at Shemesh have certain medicines that can correct the situation.’

‘Really, Ibrahim. Men have been searching for that magic elixir since time began. You have your own aphrodisiacs.’

‘I’ve tried them all. I even sent to Cairo from a magazine. They don’t work. I am all right except when I get nervous and think too much about it.’

Gideon shrugged.

‘The stuff you give to your bulls and horses. The stuff that comes from Spain.’

‘Spanish fly!’

‘Yes, yes, that’s it. Spanish fly.’

‘But that’s for animals. It would be dangerous for a man. No, no, Haj Ibrahim, nothing doing.’

‘If I get nervous and fail with this young girl, I leave Tabah, I leave Palestine. I go to China.’

The consequences of failure loomed so large that Haj Ibrahim had been driven to expose his weakness to another man, the most intimate secret an Arab could have.

‘I’ll speak with the veterinarian,’ Gideon said.

‘My good dear blessed friend! But you must swear by Allah,’ he said, putting his finger to his lips.

Two hours later Gideon returned to Tabah to find Haj Ibrahim alone in the square, pacing fiendishly.

Gideon took a packet from his pocket. ‘I had to argue like hell and lie a lot to get this.’

Haj Ibrahim seized Gideon’s hand and kissed it. Gideon opened the packet, revealing a gram of brownish powdery stuff.

‘How does it work?’

‘It’s made from ground-up beetles and it irritates the skin. Use only a tiny pinch. Rub it around on the head of your prick.’ Gideon pressed his fingers together to indicate an infinitesimal amount. ‘Too much could be very dangerous. What is here is enough to last you for ten days. After that, you’re on your own.’

Haj Ibrahim rubbed his hands together gleefully. ‘I’ll get her with child right away. Then everyone will know exactly how great I am.’

After morning prayer, Farouk and the clan chiefs and elders assembled at Haj Ibrahim’s house. They then paraded solemnly to the knoll and to the tent of Walid Azziz. Several of the more important members of the Wahhabis sat on either side of the old sheik. Camel saddles surrounded by dozens of embroidered pillows were on the floor in a semicircle.

Farouk had brought a small chest of silver and gold pieces and a number of official documents. He cracked the lid, withdrew the first of the papers, and read it. It detailed the bride’s fortune to be paid by the husband, the bride’s price paid to the father, and terms for her return in the event she was not a virgin or did not bear him a son with three pregnancies or if she proved barren.

Farouk then turned over a deed giving Ramiza fifty dunams of land.

The chest of gold and silver pieces was placed before the sheik. This would be the next to final payment. A small percentage was held back in case she had to be returned. Farouk read another document spelling out the crops and animals that were to be turned over to the sheik.

There were nods from all the Wahhabi men to concur that the contract had been fulfilled and that Haj Ibrahim had shown outstanding generosity. The sheik stood, as did the bridegroom, and they clasped hands. Farouk, acting in his role of village priest, read the acceptance. It was repeated by Ibrahim and Walid Azziz three times. Farouk then read from the opening verses of the Koran and the marriage was done.

When the men had finished their business, a sea of village maidens converged on the women’s tent, dancing, singing, and undulating. Undulation was taught to a girl early, for it developed the muscles that would later be used in childbearing.

Ramiza’s bridal gown and headdress, trousseau and treasures were laid out for the women to inspect. Her own trove was a chest of Bedouin jewelry, simple silver round coins, and crude gemstones. The wedding gown was ornately embroidered with silver threads down the arms and sides. A square over the breast held intricate stitching of a pattern to identify her as a new member of Tabah. The frontal embroidery work was called ‘nun’s stitches’ because the nuns in Bethlehem taught young girls how to do it and Ramiza’s costume closely resembled the Bethlehem pattern.

Haj Ibrahim, as promised, had not stinted on the trousseau. Ramiza’s headdress held a small fortune of Ottoman coins stitched into it. Ibrahim had commissioned six gowns for her instead of the required three. Her belt had a large silver buckle and her mirror, a silver frame. The umbrella was imported from England and her coffer was of beaten copper made by a Jewish artisan in the Old City of Jerusalem.

It was a lavish dowry. Haj Ibrahim greatly increased his stature in the eyes of all the women. Within the hour every woman in the village had come to Ramiza’s tent; they were properly impressed as a rain dance of undulating bodies, singing, and clapping resounded from the top of the knoll.

Only the single women were allowed inside the tent as the bride was dressed. One of Ramiza’s sisters dressed her by ritual while another carefully folded her trousseau and replaced it in the chest. The girls applauded in unison as each new piece of clothing was put on the bride. The cosmetic bag was opened and her brows and eyelashes were darkened to a piercing, glistening, sensual coal color. Blue powder was traced on her face above and below her eyes so they had a cat’s shine. Through it Ramiza remained as immobile and passionless as a painted doll. Her sister finished by splashing perfume over her and sprinkling all the girls in close proximity.

Ramiza’s mother was called in to inspect her daughter. She entered singing and undulating as the girl’s sisters veiled her and put on her cloak, then the headdress with its display of coins. Ramiza was led outside to where the married women had gathered.

She was placed atop a camel. For the first and last instant of her life, Ramiza was a princess. A sound of whooping was heard by women clucking their tongues quickly in a denotation of joy, and this changed to wailing and weeping.

Ramiza remained motionless, gliding slightly with the sway of the camel, and was engulfed by screaming children and crying women.

As she was assisted from the animal she got her first look at her husband, resplendent in his new robes. He nodded stiffly, fingering the magic powder in his pocket. Ibrahim walked in front of her as she followed him into the house, trailed by the sheik. Haj Ibrahim and the sheik took the two soft chairs, with Ramiza taking a stiff one alongside her husband. Ibrahim’s sons, Kamal, Omar, Jamil, and Ishmael, and the daughter, Nada, were told to enter. They bowed to their father and kissed his hand, then kissed the hand of the sheik. They were introduced stiffly to Ramiza, who remained expressionless.

‘You are welcome,’ each said in turn.

A parade of villagers followed, repeating that ‘our village is your village.’ By evenfall the tambours, reed horns, and dhamboura had heated up on the threshing floor. The men danced and feasted while the women served. They danced the dabkah. A line of eight or ten men moved together with arms on the next man’s shoulders. Their bodies were rigid and they danced like wild dervishes, with swords flashing and war cries cracking the air.

Ibrahim had gotten rid of the children for the occasion. He took Ramiza into the bedroom, which was inundated with incense and shimmering light. She had never seen a bedstead before, nor a room like this.

Ramiza turned her head and giggled as she swayed between nervousness and curiosity. She dared a peek out of the side of her eye as Ibrahim lifted his robe and flung it aside. This was the moment that every woman waited for. From the time she was a little girl, talk of the moment of her husband revealing himself dominated all other conversation among the women. She peeked again and her eyes widened and her lips parted as she gaped at the thing between his legs. All her life it had been pounded into her that she was to fear his instrument. Would that thing hurt her? He was holding it in one hand and it was swollen. He rubbed something on it with his fingers and moved toward her.

‘I want to see you!’ he rasped.

His hands were on her, clumsily pawing at her headpiece as he half ripped her bridal costume off. The top of her was magnificent, with skin as smooth as precious oils and ripe breasts bearing large brown nipples. She took off her long pantaloons and stood rigidly as he continued to stare up and down.

His member began to itch fiercely, causing him to pant like a dog. He seized her, wrapped his arms around her, and clutched at her as control fled. Ibrahim pushed her onto the bed and jumped on top of her, becoming wild, thrusting crazily, cursing for joy, grunting, gone. Ramiza could not see, but could only feel, this large creature cover her and crush her. She felt the thing tearing at her hard, poking ... through ... between her legs. She let out a cry of excruciating pain.

Outside they danced and ate at the threshing ground. Haj Ibrahim could not help but keep on using Gideon’s magic powder. It was sublime! It kept him up and going, over and over, sublime, sublime! He used the powder all night long until it was gone.

For Ramiza it was a long and hideous nightmare, just as her mother and sisters had told her it would be. Men were no good on the penetration night. Let time pass, her mother had told her, and you might catch a moment of pleasure for yourself now and then.

By daybreak Ibrahim was scarcely able to lift himself from the bed. For him it was a night never to be forgotten. The secret of the brown powder must have come from Allah himself. Ramiza’s bridal nightgown, crimson with bloodstains, was proudly hung where the mirror reflected its image into the living room. All the visitors could now see the manliness of Ibrahim. This night was the moment of truth to all the Arab families, for if the bride had cheated sexually it would have become necessary to have her killed by her brothers, for their honor and the honor of the father depended on her virginity.

There had been occasions in Tabah when a girl was not a virgin and her husband collaborated with her by cutting himself and allowing the blood to drip on the bedsheet.

Girls who had lost their hymens either by masturbation as youths or by some rough game or accident as children had to travel to Lydda to obtain a physician’s document of virginity.

There were those who were not virgins, and they had to dupe their new husbands. For a goodly price they could get one of the old widows practising witchcraft to sew up chicken blood in a breakable skin and insert it into the vagina so that it would burst on penetration by the husband’s finger or sexual organ. However, if the husband suspected, the blood could be examined by a midwife who was an expert on these tricks.