Amina could barely contain herself, she alternately tensed one leg then the other. She wanted to pace. She wanted to scream. She wanted to do something But she new she could not. She must stay calm and make sure to avoid drawing attention to herself. So she breathed slowly, whispered soothing words to herself and rapidly fingered her prayer beads. She now had 3 problems instead of just 1. The big overarching problem was her life of slavery to her so-called husband who used her to sweeten the deal or gain leverage in business dealings. She had gathered, studied and planned for almost a decade on how to escape her gilded prison and this evil man’s misogynous paws.
The second problem, which she discovered only hours earlier was that one of her trusted handmaidens was a Judas. But which one?
The third problem was that this stranger had some how found her carefully hidden needle in a box of needles and was stopped by her husband’s security force. If they got the journals she might as well kill herself right now. As she paced and worried and prayed, Allah sent her a miracle that she did not even know how to pray for. She blinked and it was over. The two men shot each other and the foreigner was on the move again. How was she going to find him and get back her journals?
She saw him but he didn’t see her.
As she ran to follow the man, a little girl hiding in the corner, frightened by the gun shots cried out to her. Princess, is everything ok? She could not bring herself to leave the girl in fear. She crouched and comforted her and told her that the bad men had killed each other and wouldn’t hurt anyone anymore. But why do you call me princess? Instead of answering directly the little girl stuck out her arm and told Amina to feel her sleeve. Then she grabbed Amina’s arm and felt her sleeve. No one in this whole building wears clothes as fine and beautiful as these.
On no! Now she had a fourth problem. She had done a Michelle Obama, wearing $400 shoes to a school for underprivileged. As she looked over the railing at the people below, every woman there wore the same dark coverings of course material like the girl’s. She stuck out like a sting of pearls on a black woman’s neck. She forced a smile and said that her mistress let her borrow these nice clothes so she could visit a sick friend but got lost and ended up here and was also frightened of the evil men and the shooting. She stroked the girls cheek and made sure she was ok. Then she walked quickly to the opposite end of the building and out on the street. She walked with purpose but not fear or hiding. Her goal was to get away from the bazaar and the death scene as quickly as possible. As soon as she could she got a taxi and returned to the hotel where her car and driver were stationed.
On the ride back home she forced herself to calm down and assemble the facts. But her heart raced. Her and her lover had been planning her escape for almost 2 years. The day was quickly approaching when they would meet if she could escape. Now is the time for cold blooded analysis of the problems.
How was she gong to expose the traitor. And when found, not if, what would she do? Her husband would not discipline her. That would only put her plan in greater jeopardy. More important than exposing the traitor was determining if the content of her journals was made know to her husband. If yes then all little hope was left. She prided herself on how carefully she kept the journals a secret and how she did things to determine if anyone had touched them. The she remembered the phrase “pride comes before a fall”.
At first she loved her husband. As he grew richer and more powerful he changed. She reviled him bitterly the first time he offered her to a potential business client to “chase away the cold desert air.” Idiot she yelled, when will you get it through your head we both grew up here, by the sea. He made her regret her back talk. She complained only a few more times but learned that it only brought even more pain.
The odd exception was that the guests were expected to behave. One had behaved like an animal. She screamed for help and was saved by the guards. The guest was beaten and tossed down the stairs in front of their grand home. No further business was done with his firm for a year, until after he was humiliated and removed from the company. Though she desperately wanted freedom she respected her husband.
She always had a thirst for knowledge, but ever since she met Hanz, she became an obsessive learner. She became fluent in several other languages, learned to dance and became very strong regularly practicing parcour, body-weight training and jiujitsu. Secretly, she studied every form of spycraft she could without attracting attention. This is why she cursed herself when the little girl called her princess.
As he prospered, they moved to better quarters. When they were first married they lived normal modern lives. He worked in finance at an oil company and she worked as a bank teller. After a year they moved to what she could only call a hovel. He made the choice without her. She flew into a rage when she saw it but melted when he danced her across the threshold. After a quickie in the barren kitchen she became angry again as she looked at the crooked cabinet doors and peeling paint on the wall. We should be making enough to afford decent housing. Why did we leave your parents? The small rooms we had there are better than this rat hole? Dessert flower, calm down. Why do you call me desert flower, we both grew up in the city, she spat back. A 10 minute walk from the beach. How far is the beach from this mud relic from who knows when. Who built it, Ali Baba and the 40 thieves. That last epithet forced a laugh like an uncontrolled burp. He laughed so hard he could barely stand. This angered her more and she swung at him in an attempt to slap his impudent face. He leaned back like Mohammed Ali and she spun out of control and landed on her ass. The surprise and pain killed her anger which opened the door to a good laugh as she saw the total ridiculousness of the situation. He crouched by her side and gently took her face in her hands. Looked deeply into her eyes and calmly, sweetly said “Trust me. This is for our good. Let me show you something.” He helped her up and mischievously gave her ass a quick massage. He turned to get his briefcase then turned back, looked at her and tilted his head as if something was out of sorts. What? she said. He stepped forward grabbed one of breasts and moved a bit. In shock she stepped back. Before she could speak, he said with a look as serious as a doctor giving bad news, “I think the fall knocked them a little out of alignment.” Despite herself, she looked down. When she looked up, he was grinning from ear to ear. Idiot! she yelled and slapped him on the shoulder. This is our mortgage and pay down schedule. He handed her a legal size sheet of paper. When she looked at she looked up at and said are you joking? What does this mean? It’s completely blank. Exactly, we own this place. It is ours. Your friends are living in nicer places but they have a mortgage. They must live on a smaller portion of their salary then you or I. We are only 1 block away from the tram so you and I can travel to work at low expense and not have to pay the expenses of a car or parking. This is the worst house in a good neighborhood. With patience and focus we will prosper here in addition to prospering at work. We must diligently clean and repair. True to his word, they lived on a strict budget. He would find different people and pay them pittance to paint a door or a wall. He paid cash which made the workers happy and were eager to do more work. They tried to convince him to let them do more work. But he would only hire for what he could pay cash for. True to his word, at the end of the month, they would dress up in their finest clothes and take the tram to a hotel where they would not look out of place and have a fine meal. After 2 months, she bought a nicer dress and he a nicer sport coat and they went to a nicer hotel. They gave the old clothes away.
On the night of their 18th celebration, as they were slowly walking, arm in arm back toward the tram that would take them home, he stopped and said smell the air as if for the first time. She leaned against a lamp post, closed her eyes and ears and focused only on her nose. I smell nothing. Try again he said. She took a couple of deep breaths through her nostrils. I smell car fumes, let’s go home. Stop, he said with a little more authority than she thought the situation deserved. For one moment, choose to notice the “now”. Try again. She could tell he was going to persist on this path until he could tell she complied and he could always tell when she was faking it. She adjusted her position at the lamp post, took his hand and relaxed. She could indeed smell the car fumes, this time she noticed that some cars smelled different. She could smell his cologne. She could smell the paprika on the fried aubergine. Shocked, she opened her eyes but did not see any street vendors. As if he could read her mind, he said the food sellers are on the other side of that row of buildings. It must be low tide, I can smell the sweet fetid smell of the beaches. She smiled and hugged him. There is more to life then just rushing from one place to another to have an experience. There are experiences at every step of the way. Let’s go home he said. You look a little out of alignment.
The next day the house was sold for a handsome profit. She wept as she packed for the move. It didn’t take long. He was very strict about keeping their quantity of things to a minimum. One, day we will have more than enough, but for now we focus. She confided to her mother that they lived like refugees who only kept what they could carry. She laughed at herself as she remembered the first tantrum she threw when they first came to this mud hut that they transformed into a beautiful home. He saw the future that she could not and this thought frightened her. He continued to turn lead into gold. Did he anticipate her desire to leave him? Does he already know the plans? Maybe he’s letting this Judas bitch think she’s helping just to keep her tied to him. Maybe he already knows about Hanz and has killed him or arranged to have him killed in front of her to maximize her suffering. Maybe, maybe, maybe, her mind turned and twisted and bounced around like a ping pong ball.
She prayed.
With her mind finally quiet again she remembered for the 3rd time today, the first night in the hovel. As she played and replayed the conversation from that night she started to notice what he didn’t say. He didn’t say that it was not a hovel. He did not not say anything contrary to any of the nasty things she said about the place. He accepted the place for what it was; a starting point; a lump of clay waiting to be formed. The idea struck her. That’s what she would do. She would locate the traitor and put her to work for her not for him. She would take advantage of the 2 dead security men. She would take pity on the little girl and use it to her advantage at the same time.
It was a rare night that husband and wife dined alone. Tonight was one such night. Had she not come to her senses she would have dreaded the evening, taken anything to make herself sick or just fallen apart. Instead she was relaxed. She even flirted once or twice and reviled him mildly once or twice. To be too gay would appear as if something needs to be covered. To be too quiet implies something is wrong. So she took both opportunities for humor and opportunities for insults, within in reason.
So what did you do today, my desert flower.
That wore off long ago. But she smiled anyway, just a little. I actually had a fascinating day. I went into town today. I decided I would pretend to be a tourist from a foreign country seeing Casablanca for the first time. I wouldn’t bother with the downtown area, who wants to see a branch office of a company they know from home. I wandered the bazaar and looked at the trinkets made in China and the t-shirts made in Greece and the tunics made in Taiwan. I ate street food. And I pondered my life and its meaning. Before I knew it I was in one of the building around the bazaar, comforting a little girl who was frightened because she heard gun shots. I assured her that there wouldn’t be gun shots in this neighborhood. She took me to a balcony and showed me the two dead men. By then the alley was crowded with people trying to see the gruesome site and the police were shouting for the people to stand back. I moved her away from the gruesome sight and we talked.
Did you see what happened?
No, I was her, playing with my dolls. They shouted at each other. People around here are always shouting. Then shot each other. I looked and the blood was flowing from the one man’s head. The other man’s heart was pumping the blood up through his chest for a moment then stopped. I grabbed my doll came to the corner where you found me and cried.
Well it’s all over now.
You look like a princess.
Why do you say that?
Your skin is so smooth. You clothes are so clean and smooth. Feel my dress. It’s like stucco compared to yours.
At that moment I realized where I was. Was I safe? I gave her one more hug and left. I walked deliberately back to the car and came home.
I’m going back tomorrow.
What?!
I’m going back tomorrow, more appropriately dressed and I’m going to buy some clothing for the little girl and her friends.
Frugal Pilgrim 