washed her face clean of the bossâs slaver, Aliyah thought about arrangements for the coming month and slipped the money into her pocket. Prudently, she kept a small amount back, without the slightest suspicion of what was to happen on her return home. She was still wearing her work dress, her socks and headscarf when her father appeared out of nowhere. Aliyah jumped. They had been busy, she and her pregnant mother, counting the costs of a numerous family. Perhaps it was her motherâs bad luck which had prompted him to enter at the very moment she had spread the notes out on the thin sponge mattress. No, her mother wasnât the bad omen: it was her.
On that ill-fated evening, he came in calmly and silently, watching his wife and daughter as they muttered away whilst counting the money. He was a tall man, with an inclining frame, which often leant him a romantic quality and had caused his wife to fall in love at first sight. The slight curve of his posture wasnât his only attractive quality; smooth black hair, a full moustache, a deep voice and piercing stare all contributed to the manâs appeal. Little Aliyah had inherited that stare, with all of its harshness, its power and weakness. Her father was aware of his own authority over his wife; he knew that she was in love with him, that he would be obeyed as he wished to be, and that the mother had passed on this sense of obedience to her daughters. The father was content with his life of ease, he told himself, although he said the opposite to his family. But when he entered the room and saw the bank notes spread out on the sponge mattress, he felt as though things were slipping beyond his control. He would teach his women a lesson they would never forget, so he told himself. Humming, he pushed the door open and confronted his wife immediately, who felt terror spread through her limbs. Meanwhile, Aliyah Senior quickly gathered up the money and concealed it in her apron, knowing that he would seize everything she had at the end of the month and disappear for a few days, only to return empty-handed, telling them that policemen on patrol had seized all the contraband cigarettes he had bought, and that he hadnât managed to sell a single carton.
Aliyah Senior was scared. She bit down on her tongue. The syllables stumbled from her blue lips as she tried to keep hold of the money, her hands clasped like claws around weakened prey.
As Aliyah buried her face in her motherâs lap, her mother was thinking of how to protect her own swollen middle. She had finally got used to being beaten, but this time the fatherâs rage had come unexpectedly. He pounced on Aliyah and grabbed her by the hair, which became a rope in his hands that he wrapped around his fingers. He swung the girlâs body against the walls, which shook as the money poured out of her apron and onto the ground. The mother screamed, her stomach quivering before her. He hit her and she fled from the room, her hair uncovered. In full view of the neighbours, Aliyahâs mother began to rip her clothes, wailing and screaming for the men to save her daughter, who had fallen unconscious. Some of the men from the alley entered the room and grabbed hold of her husband, who pushed them away violently. Pursuing them to the doorway, he pulled down his trousers and thrusted his genitalia in front them.
âIf any of you sons of bitches come any closer, Iâll make you eat... this!â he shouted.
The men stared, not believing what they were seeing. Then, in dumbfoundment they retreated, while the women gawped at him, perplexed, before hurrying after their husbands.
Had the familiesâ expressions been less hateful and disapproving, he would probably have gone back into the room. Instead, he stood shaking with anger, before returning to gather the money and vanishing. With no knowledge that his wife had bled until she had lost the baby, he spent three days wandering the streets. The
On that ill-fated evening, he came in calmly and silently, watching his wife and daughter as they muttered away whilst counting the money. He was a tall man, with an inclining frame, which often leant him a romantic quality and had caused his wife to fall in love at first sight. The slight curve of his posture wasnât his only attractive quality; smooth black hair, a full moustache, a deep voice and piercing stare all contributed to the manâs appeal. Little Aliyah had inherited that stare, with all of its harshness, its power and weakness. Her father was aware of his own authority over his wife; he knew that she was in love with him, that he would be obeyed as he wished to be, and that the mother had passed on this sense of obedience to her daughters. The father was content with his life of ease, he told himself, although he said the opposite to his family. But when he entered the room and saw the bank notes spread out on the sponge mattress, he felt as though things were slipping beyond his control. He would teach his women a lesson they would never forget, so he told himself. Humming, he pushed the door open and confronted his wife immediately, who felt terror spread through her limbs. Meanwhile, Aliyah Senior quickly gathered up the money and concealed it in her apron, knowing that he would seize everything she had at the end of the month and disappear for a few days, only to return empty-handed, telling them that policemen on patrol had seized all the contraband cigarettes he had bought, and that he hadnât managed to sell a single carton.
Aliyah Senior was scared. She bit down on her tongue. The syllables stumbled from her blue lips as she tried to keep hold of the money, her hands clasped like claws around weakened prey.
As Aliyah buried her face in her motherâs lap, her mother was thinking of how to protect her own swollen middle. She had finally got used to being beaten, but this time the fatherâs rage had come unexpectedly. He pounced on Aliyah and grabbed her by the hair, which became a rope in his hands that he wrapped around his fingers. He swung the girlâs body against the walls, which shook as the money poured out of her apron and onto the ground. The mother screamed, her stomach quivering before her. He hit her and she fled from the room, her hair uncovered. In full view of the neighbours, Aliyahâs mother began to rip her clothes, wailing and screaming for the men to save her daughter, who had fallen unconscious. Some of the men from the alley entered the room and grabbed hold of her husband, who pushed them away violently. Pursuing them to the doorway, he pulled down his trousers and thrusted his genitalia in front them.
âIf any of you sons of bitches come any closer, Iâll make you eat... this!â he shouted.
The men stared, not believing what they were seeing. Then, in dumbfoundment they retreated, while the women gawped at him, perplexed, before hurrying after their husbands.
Had the familiesâ expressions been less hateful and disapproving, he would probably have gone back into the room. Instead, he stood shaking with anger, before returning to gather the money and vanishing. With no knowledge that his wife had bled until she had lost the baby, he spent three days wandering the streets. The
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