It is nothing to do with being badly behaved but seeing that we are all as bad as each other. We must learn to live with the consequences.
My life is one of snubbed and the snobbish do not even understand that the ways of being is not class or education but something like to observe and be. I am a girl when this story begins I am barely five and the whole thing starts there when the worthy selfless beasts were considerate to me.
I did not ache back than at the burdens of stuffy nonsense and the backward culture had a place for me added me to the guest list. They made not much more than accepting sounds and there was no glamour back than just this nonsense is over the whole thing is about to begin and a new life is forming let us start anew.
What had started as that then turned nasty. Because we cannot break the chains of the past. We can try but the pain is too painful. The past is there forever etched inside our skulls we are doomed to tradition and trade offs and we do not desire to see the world in stages but in full technocolour.
It was in the early 1950's or was it late 50's because mother said I was alive. Then she gave a shrug and sat down and told me this story. It was not a story suited to someone under age but that did not stop her. What we do to the child inside us is when we share such a wicked deed but mother said she did not have much time because she knew what was going to happen to her.
I did not understand smiled and listened because there was no television and no radio at that time and it was dull raining out. The room was bleak except for the nice chair with the cosy red colours which I was not allowed to sit on under any circumstances and did whenever her back was turned.
Mother said soberly that the story was a common one amongst the extended family. Those who chose to live in such a naughty circumstances. She denied nothing from me the children were happy she said but they were always nude. She did not mince matters that she disapproved.
"What happened?" I shouted listening with interest as mother's sober sounding voice swept along as if running for space which had been denied her. She appealed to me to stop as she going to tell me. All of the gory bits.
I remember turning round and round asking to be told the story which made her mad with such sadness. She sighed again and she told me bites and sizes. I was so frustrated with her way of telling me this.
Then she said it.
Then she shrugged and smiled.
"What?" I said staggered and fell to the things on the floor the clothes and the fine skirts.
"Well get up from there you are going to ruin the clothes."
"What?" I repeated.
"You'll ruin the clothes."
"Of course. You did just say that the woman chopped her husband's head off?"
"Well yes she did."
"Who were these people?"
"All in good time now help me do the thing properly."
Then mother went on and one by one she told me the entire story without much effort of shame or sham..
Sin and all that gin no strings attached then one is stung by the blows of reality.
After living together in perfect harmony for twenty two years the wives began to argue and then the Imam had one day been out saying the morning prayer when he was discovered to have lost his head. And mother chuckled.
It was a carnal knowledge a Imam should never had had. The woman who came was her half sister. A holy alliance was done and then they got on so well together. So one wonders what had happened.? Any ideas asked mother? Nope. I was so awed.
To be trusted with such a story it meant I was Emma Peel in the Avengers. I was going to solve a real life drama. The television was not there we had neighbours who had television. We knew all about the sods who did crime detecting. We knew because the uncles and aunts made us see television too because look how important they were able to afford such luxuries.
I had not chosen daddy but had chosen this woman his former wife now cast out and made a mockery off. That was who Zeks was. So she was spiteful and revengeful so what? Most people were worse and if she did not dare touch me that was because we had a understanding.
But I had something far more valuable something worth every penny. I had the witless woman sharing a story which she knew she should not be telling me .
But somehow I did not care. I did not even want to care because the story was good. I had nothing to do. So the story made me realise how little I knew.
"What happened to them?"
"They had a disagreement."
"Their lives went so nasty after that."
"The whole town was there that day when it happened it was so exciting."
The glee in her eyes and the alertness in her sent shivers up my spine.
"His mistress wanted more."
"She did ?"
"Yes she wanted something the lands or so and there was the Imam's assistant seeking an annulment but he had two children by the wicked witch."
"So he could not be annulled?"
"Of course not."
"She chopped his head off?"
Mother got ready for the full throttle of the story.
"No the wife did she chopped his head off."
"Because she got jealous."
"Well she had not been for all that time how suddenly she got jealous for?"
"Do not interrupt do not know ."
"Well she did not speak no one spoke the end of the story."
"Where is she now?"
"What a sad story."
The affair had began in the 1930's they were than young the the trio were nothing but educated snobs. But that made their downfall better. Ambitious and all that they took the worthy selfish sides and made a life out of their lies. They were not honest they made the secular go bad. The way things were and are should be one wife per man. But he brought the old ways back. He brought them with a vengeance. When they gave a man four women and they bickered all the time over who was to eat what and whose time it was to sleep with the man. One man she pointed her finger in a suggestive manner.
" What is that? "
"Put it away."
"His calling was not answered he did not have time to read all the books so he was allowed as a gesture to clean the Mosque only pure of heart can do that. I know his heart was impure."
She machined away as if speed gathering and she did trash the machine in a bad way breaking needles and baboons in such a manner that she must have spent about a fiver on them alone. Luckily it was the man who collected the clothes who paid for the baboons.
I went to make some tea and began to play with a ball. The noise distracted her and she called me in. After a couple of minutes she called again and sighing I went to do as I was told.
"He married now to two women both sisters. He was a man almost like a laughing stock."
"Where did they live?"
"In the same house he was not a rich man."
Came to them who said the Imam had made a mistake by hiring him because jobs were scarce back than. The Imam said he was a good cleaner. No more nasty than anyone else and had a good singing voice.