"Good Evening to you. How is
your wife?
Anataalie asked as she drove her
white Mercedes slowly past the gate. She had lowered the window, and
stepped on the brake for a little while, just enough to give her time
to push a gift-wrapped box in the hand of the elderly guard.
"It is for your wife, I picked
it up in New York, I hope she will like it"
"Oh Madame, you should not
have." The guard grinned.
"Yes, I should have",
Anataalie laughed as she waved off to the guard and drove off towards
her white villa.
The night was lovely; the sky was
dark blue studded with shining stars.
As she parked her Mercedes and emerged
from the car, the heavy oak wood front door opened and Vilma, the Filipina
maid came running. She was happy to see Anataalie back home. Vilma
asked:
"Are you well, Madame? You
look so beautiful and refreshed. We missed you so much."
Anataalie laughed, she knew that
Vilma was always in awe of her long and slender body, her natural auburn
hair. Vilma was a pretty petite woman who would sing and laugh all day.
just like a bird.
Anataalie called:
" Vilma, come here, this big
box is for you.Do not open it here, later when you are in your quarters,
for now I am tired."
They both entered the Villa as the
gardener also came to greet Anataalie, and to him too she gave a present.
He was a good old man from Egypt, a magician with plants.
Anataalie was glad to be home, she
went to refresh herself, put on a silk turquoise housedress, and sat
in the sofa in her study room.
Vilma brought her some coffee and
wished her a pleasant night, and took her leave, singing in tagalog.
It felt good to be home, everything
was radiating in this place, and she could still hear Vilma singing
in the kitchen. Then everything was silent; everyone had gone to sleep.
Anataalie stood up and opened the
French window that gave way to her private garden, a giant green house
filled with surpirisingly what seemed to be violets, lilacs and jasmine.
She went to sit in the swinging chair and gently rocked herself in the
aroma of the Arabian night.
She closed her eyes, and suddenly
she felt something so very strange happening to her.
The green house was inundated by
an indigo light, subtle yet blinding, she felt a sharp pain as she felt
her heart being ripped open, she touched her chest, and there was no
opening, no wound, and no blood. The pain was excruciating. She steadied
herself to try to contain the pain.
As she did so, she clearly saw a
dark blue star entering her flesh, and she felt it all the way as it
went to lodge itself in her heart. The pain then stopped. And she knew
that a blue indigo star had just filled up the emptiness of her heart.
She did not comprehend the meaning of it all, and so she quieted herself
and felt her chest. There was nothing unusual, and after a while she
decided that she had had a waking dream, that her imagination had played
a trick on her. After all, every night wherever she was she would look
at the sky to find a star,. That very same start, always the same, the
blue star before she went to sleep. Her mother taught her how to recognize
the blue star. She said, in that star is our family, we all go there
after we are no more of the mortal clay? When I am gone, she used to
say to Anataalie, you will find me there, and you too will come to meet
me.
Anataalie knew that her mother was
fond of narrating to her soothing fairy tales. Anataalie had been an
anxious child, quiet but anxious.
And so anataalie decided to go back
to her bedroom and to try to get some sleep she felt tired, so very
tired.
She went into bed and quickly fell
asleep.
In the middle of the night, she
felt a deep pain in her heart, and she opened her eyes. She was shocked
to find herself not in her bedroom any longer but in an open field.
She looked around and she found that she was wearing a heavy cloth dress
and a scarf around her head. Her hands were rough and her nails dirty.
Her back ached so much, she realized that she was picking potatoes.
On her back was a huge basket half filled with her harvest. Everyone
young and old was there on the field working. It was cold, and the father
urged everyone to pick faster before the frost would ruin the harvest.
None spoke,there was no time to waste, it was a question of their survival.
Everyone was working hard, to please the father and keep the cold at
bay.
Everyday for a week she did so,
picking potatoes, coming home to eat a plateful of gruel, and sleep
on the floor next to the cattle to keep warm, it was so very cold. She
was coughing, as she whipped her mouth, she saw the blood spat in her
palm. She did not say anything. She did not want to worry her mother.
Soon the harvest was done; the ground
was too hard with frost. There would be no more picking this winter.
Father was anxious; he was waiting
for the landlord to know how much he would have to give of his harvest
and how much would be left for them to survive on until spring.
Three days passed. The women and
the children were cutting wood to warm the barrack. They prepared heavy
soups with the fresh potatoes; it felt like a happy time. Yet every
night, Anataalie saw the blood spat as she whipped out her mouth as
she coughed. She did not say anything.
On the third day, the landlord came
with his younger son. Father and the landlord argued bitterly and soon
an agreement was reached, just enough to survive had been granted to
the family.
The younger son entered the house
to take the cattle too. Anataalie was there and did not move. The young
man asked her name. She did not know this kind of men with gentle words
and clean garments. He said to her that she was the prettiest thing
he had met and he would want her as a bride. He would come after a week
to fetch her.
And he left with his father and their bounty.
Father smiled, he had swindled the
old fox as usual, because he had hidden some of the stock away.
Anataalie told her father about
the young son and his promise. The family was elated, surely everyone
ought to know, and they made a party for the village, and brought in
half of their provisions to feed the guests, all village people. Father
was not worried at all about using so much of their stock. After all
his very own daughter would be wealthy and would bring them much wealth.
Anataalie felt like a princess, and it was a marvelous party.
Then one week passed, two weeks,
two months and still there were no sign of the youngest son, no message.
People started to mock the family. On the third month they had nothing
left to eat. The newborn had died of malnutrition and , mother got very
sick. Father fell into deep melancholy, his honor had been soiled.
And so that very night, Anataalie
opened the door on the blue star studded sky and left her shoes in the
house, barefoot she walked to her fate… Her blue path: blue feet
and a blue heart. She died just below the bluest of all the blue stars.
…. Not far from where she died,
the younger son was telling another young girl that within one week
he would come and fetch her…
Anataalie moved in her sleep, she
wiped her mouth and she opened her eyes to see some red on her palm,
she woke up instantly and smiled, that was lipstick, she had fallen
asleep without removing her make up. It was morning; she opened her
window, and went into the garden… It had been all but a dream,
she was in Arabia, there was no snow and no blue feet.
There were no lilac or violets,
the gardener greeted her and told her:
Did you see? I have planted daffodils and daisies as you like them."
She asked:
"Did we ever grow lilac and violets?"
The gardener laughed and said:
"You forbade me to have those brought over, did you forget?"
Anataalie smiled. She touched her
heart, it always felt blue with frost to her, over a lie told to her
somewhere some place. Would she ever know for sure? Which…
She said:
"What about Jasmine?"
"Yes, the gardner smiled, we
have plenty of jasmine, this year is a good year for the white jasmine.
Just like you like it, it looks like a field of snow..."
Copyrighted Rahman,brigitte arlette-2001
