Missing Soluch (23 page)

“In the spring, he’d prepare the soil and I’d plant the seeds.”

“I’d wait at the top by the well wheel, and he’d go down into the well. He’d fill the bucket with dirt and I’d pull it up.”

“Sometimes, just before he left, I’d prepare the clay for a bread oven he was working on. He told me I had good hands for spreading clay.”

Abbas became angry. “Okay, that’s enough reminiscing; if he wants to disappear on the other side of the world, let him!”

God’s Land was covered with dark streaks of gravel that followed along the stretches of snow still unmelted. Abbas leapt up from the side of the stream and ended their conversation. They were on their own land. They left their sacks beside the stream and Abrau picked up the hoe. Abbas pointed to one spot of land and they walked over to it. They both busied themselves digging at the wet earth. The top layer of soil was muddy and stuck to their hands. The next layer was less so, and farther down, the soil only bore the darkened hue of moisture. Abbas rolled the cuff of his trousers up to his knees and stepped into the hole he had just dug. The hole was as deep as the top of his knee. The soil was such that it held the moisture, and a watermelon plant could easily spread its roots into it.

Abrau said, “Shall we dig somewhere else?”

“You’re so confused all the time! In this kind of soil you don’t have to dig in different places. It’s not like those places where you have to see how deep the moisture is where the rain collects, and how deep it is elsewhere. This soil is sandy—if you don’t believe me, go dig by the edge of the gravel there. It’s not level ground, so the water won’t gather there itself. But I’ll bet you it’s even more moist than over here, since its soil is softer.”

From the wilderness beyond the gravel, Sanam’s son, Morad, was approaching. He had a bundle of kindling on his back and with each step sank ankle-deep in the wet earth as he went, leaving a path of deep footsteps behind him. As soon as he noticed the brothers, he changed course and began walking toward them.

“Hey there!”

Morad set his bundle of kindling against the steep embankment of the stream.

The brothers headed toward him. Morad loosened the binding that held the bundle on his back, releasing it. “The reeds are all moist, damn them! They’re heavy. I’m exhausted just trying to walk in this soil. I’m knee-deep in the mud. See how I’m covered in sweat!”

It was true. His entire back and the area under each arm was drenched in sweat. He took the edge of his shirt and wiped the sweat from his brow and ears. He sat back, leaning on the bank of the stream, and shut his eyes. Sweat had dripped into his eyes, which were now red and burning. Morad opened an eye and asked, “You were checking the moisture of the soil, no?”

“Yeah … that’s right. What about you? Aren’t you planning to plant this year?”

“Not me. But my brother won’t give up. As for me, I’m not willing to throw myself on the bull’s horns just for a handful of soil.”

Abbas did not pick up on what Morad was referring to, so he asked, “What bull’s horns?”

“They’re registering all of this land. Mirza Hassan’s leading them. Salar Abdullah and Kadkhoda Norouz and Zabihollah are all working together. They’re talking about getting a tractor and a water pump. In addition to God’s Land and Kalqar Valley, they’ve got designs on the fields of Bandsar as well. Salar Abdullah himself was at our house on Friday. But my brother won’t accept their offer, even though my mother’s knees went weak as soon as she heard the sounds of a few coins jingling. Although, if I know my brother, he’ll eventually give in. Salar Abdullah will put an end to his indecision with a couple of red bills.”

“Is Salar Abdullah laying claim to other people’s property? That’s theft, isn’t it?”

Morad replied, “He doesn’t recognize the land as belonging to other people. That’s why it’s called what it is—God’s Land!”

“So what if it’s called that? Right now, it’s in the hands of God’s servants.”

“Salar claims that he’ll make the land productive.”

“Ha! Make it productive! So what are we doing, then? Ruining it?”

“What do I know?”

“So what is everyone else doing about this? What about Ghodrat’s father, the others?”

“They’re going to buy them all off one by one. They’re giving them promises and presents.”

Abbas’ eye shone. “You mean they’re handing out cash?”

“Maybe, I’m not sure.”

Abbas was silent. It was clear he was trying to determine what the most profitable approach to the issue was. Morad leaned back on his bundle. Abrau raised his head and said, “What about you, Morad? What are you thinking of doing?”

“I’m leaving. I’ve never really cared about this place. So I want to go somewhere where I know that when I work from morning to night, I’ll be paid that night for my work. I went to Gonbad last year. The year before, to Varamin. This year, if I have to, I’ll go as far as Ahvaz even. Wherever my heart is happy. What about you? Are you sticking around?”

“We don’t know!”

Morad shifted the bundle and began to tie the rope around his chest again. “I hear that Ali Genav’s doing a favor for you.”

It was clear what he was implying from the tone of his voice. Abbas said, “You mean shepherding his cousin’s camels? That’s not been settled yet.”

“I suspect you’ll settle it soon. It’s not a permanent job; after a short while, they’ll be sent for sale and you’ll tie them all in a line and off they go!”

Abbas said, “Maybe he wants to graze them over the spring as well?”

“What an idea! I guess some people are so naïve they should never leave their homes, my brother! I really love these new foreign tractors though. Sardar Abdullah will have no choice but to get rid of his camels. It’s not because he wants to. And you think you can make a living with people like this around,
running things as they do …? So, are you guys staying here?”

“No. We’ll come too.”

Morad straightened his back beneath the kindling. The brothers took their bags and tools and headed out, walking alongside Morad.

“Many of the others are leaving too. Ghodrat’s coming with me. We’ll go work for six months and then spend the winter relaxing by the hearth. We’ll take it easy. If we were to stay here, we’d never even be able to save up ten
tomans
. But what I’m surprised by is why you’re not coming?”

Abbas replied, “We have our own problems, brother!”

“And no one else does?”

Abrau asked, “Morad, have you been in a car until now?”

“How could I not have been? How do you think I’ve been to all these places? It’s no big deal!”

Abrau remained silent. Abbas said, “If it’s really heavy, set down that bundle and I can help you take it.”

Morad said, “What’s difficult isn’t the weight of this bundle; it’s that in this place there’s no value for the work you do. This kindling is one thing, because at least my mother will be able to heat up bread in the oven with it. But other work is useless. Outside, I can work for sixteen hours a day if I know I’ll be paid my due. You need to have a purpose for your work. By the way … I hear you’re going to be marrying off Hajer?”

Abbas and Abrau said nothing. They had no answer to Morad’s question. Morad didn’t push the matter any further.

When they reached the ramshackle homes of Zaminej, Morad said, “If you were to just wait a little while longer, you’d
probably find a husband for Hajer who doesn’t have another wife! Goodbye.”

“Goodbye!”

Morad altered his course toward a path beside a fallow field toward his home, while the brothers continued along the high ridge along a ditch. Before they were very far from each other, Morad made a turn beneath his load and said in a half-audible voice, “In any case … if you wanted to leave … it’s better if we all went together.”

Abbas took the hoe in his hand and waved it. “Okay … We’ll let you know.”

Then they headed away down the slope of the ditch.

By the time the brothers reached Zaminej, the evening air brought a soothing cool with it. It was for a good reason that for the first month of spring, many of those who could afford to would not leave their places beside the hearth. Abrau held his sack tight against his back, raised his shoulders a little, and said to Abbas, “What do you say we should do? As the weather gets warmer, Ali Genav’s bath will become less busy. I don’t expect I’ll really have a reason to keep working there over the summer. Even now I think he’s keeping me there just out of politeness. He’s in a bind; his wife’s still unwell. But just as soon as he sorts things out, he’ll get rid of me. And it’s not as if I’m really earning much there. So if you want my opinion, I think we should join the others, going wherever they go. Something might come of it, no?”

Abbas said, “There’s plenty of time now. If things don’t go well, if we don’t join this group, we will just go with the next one. It’s not as if the roads will be closed!”

Abrau began to try to convince his brother with another line of reasoning, but in vain. They approached Salar Abdullah’s son, who was leaning against a wall. He eyed the two brothers as they came, walked over, and blocked Abbas’ path. “So what’s happened to my money?”

“What money?”

“The money you took from me in your stables and swallowed. Why is it everytime you see me you head in the opposite direction? You think you’re dealing with a bunch of blind fools?”

“So, you yourself say I swallowed it, and I did. So go where I’ve left it now and take it back! When you swallow something, where does it end up?”

Abbas said this and moved on. Abrau followed behind him. Salar Abdullah’s son shouted at them as they left, “I’ll tear those coins out of your throat!”

Abbas didn’t reply, muttering, “One hundred
tomans
wouldn’t be enough to pay me for what I went through! And now he wants to raise the dead!”

Salar’s son continued, “I’ll make you give birth to that money!”

Abbas answered, “If you do that, be sure to cut its umbilical cord!”

“You son of a bastard dog!”

Abbas turned into the safety of their home’s doorway before answering, “The bastard’s you, with your seven shit bastard ancestors!”

Mergan stuck her head out of the door of the house, saying, “Now, who is it this time? Why don’t you let me be calm for just a minute, you?”

Not answering his mother, Abbas looked at the saddle pack set against the edge of the wall, paused a moment, and asked, “Who’s here?”

“Your uncle!”

“What?”

It didn’t matter who or what their maternal uncle was, but his appearance excited the boys. They ran into the house. Molla Aman was sitting at the far end of the room, leaning against a pile of bedding. He was sitting on one knee—as was his habit—and had his large boney hand on his kneecap. His wrists were loose and his fingers were each like the claws of a crane, hanging down over his knee. His large, wide nose and its well-shaped arching tip cast a shadow over half of his face. The sight of his nephews brought a smile to his penetrating eyes. He shifted a little and stretched his hands, like a crane’s wings, out to the boys. They threw themselves into the embrace of their Uncle Aman as he kissed each of their faces and set them beside one another against the edge of the wall. Jokingly, he asked how they were, saying, “I’d have expected you to have grown beards by now!”

Suddenly, Abbas and Abrau realized that Ali Genav was in the room as well. They noticed their mother, as well as the absence of Hajer. Abbas realized what was going on.

Ali Genav finished the cup of tea, took the edges of his cloak in hand, and rose, saying, “So we’re agreed. We’ll go to the town on the seventh day of the new year.”

Mergan said, “God willing. I still have to whitewash five or six other houses, but once I’m done with that, I’ll have less to worry about.”

“God willing!”

Molla Aman also rose. “May you be blessed.”

Before Ali Genav set a foot outside the door, he turned to Abbas and said, “I’ve also discussed your work with my uncle. From tomorrow on, you can take the camels out to graze in the fields.”

Molla Aman exited with Ali Genav, then returned to the door, stooped to enter, and said, “He’s a good provider. And that wife of his is now useless. So this is all for the best! May God bring good for everyone.”

Abrau noticed that the tip of his uncle’s hat scraped against the ceiling of the room. Aman said, “So that’s that. You can come out now, our bride-to-be! Come out, Hajer!”

Molla Aman wasn’t concerned about what Hajer did or whether she came out; he was just speaking for the sake of it. It signaled the end of the ritual. He sat in his place and slid the empty teacup toward his sister Mergan, while saying to Abbas, “If you have any money to wager, go get your pieces and gather up a group to play. Get going! I’ve not had a game in Zaminej for over a year!”

Mergan filled the cup and placed it before her brother. Abbas rose quickly and selected a set of
bajal
pieces from his collection. Abrau drew himself into the shadows and leaned his head against the corner of the wall. As Abbas reached the side of the chest, he said, “Karbalai Doshanbeh was asking about you, Uncle!”

Molla Aman answered, just as the sound of his donkey braying rose from the stable outside. “He can go to hell! He thinks money can be skimmed off the top of water! Does he want me to go present myself to him and set a pile of bills before him just to pay the interest of his money? This time, if
God helps me, I’m thinking I’ll just swallow the loan and its interest all at once. Go bring the pieces, now!”

Abbas brought his box of
bajal
pieces over and his uncle busied himself with setting up the game. Mergan was worried about her daughter, and she went to the pantry. She sat facing Hajer, who had stuffed the edge of the drape into her mouth to silence herself.

The pantry was dark, blacker than night.

Everyone had work to do.

Abrau rose at dawn and went to the baths. Molla Aman had brought his small donkey to graze out by the door of the stables. Abbas was busy wrapping up his feet. Mergan had placed the tin cans and other bits and pieces she used in her whitewashing work in one corner and was waiting for everyone else to leave. Mergan was responsible for sending each of the others off first, and only then would leave herself. With the New Year came new work for Mergan: whitewashing houses.