Marrying Ameera (17 page)

The next evening when we sat at the table to eat, my backpack was hidden behind the door. I wore the shalwar qameez that I had come to Pakistan in and was surprised to find it a size too big. I wore Tariq’s necklace on my ankle. I’d left my wedding clothes and gold jewellery in the bedroom. I had to wear my wedding ring or Shaukat would notice, but I didn’t want to take anything else that I hadn’t brought with me.

Mrs Rahmet had made the chai and left for her own quarters when it began to rain. I had hardly touched a thing at dinner and now my nerves jumped at a flash of lightning.

‘Aren’t you feeling well?’ Shaukat asked.

His smiles were becoming confident again. He’d been sleeping downstairs but I knew he was just biding his time.

‘I’m fine. Shaukat…’

I needed to say something to him, but what? I would never see him again. Yet surely he deserved something from me, this man Papa had chosen for me. He may have
been a good man, as they all said, but Meena was wrong: if Papa had let me choose, I wouldn’t have chosen Shaukat. I had wanted a different life: one where I could choose, which I could share with a man my own age, be myself. I had almost forgotten who that person was.

Shaukat raised his eyebrows. ‘Hmm?’

‘I…I just wanted to say that I appreciate what you’ve tried to do, to help me settle. It’s been such a shock, coming here, getting married. You have tried to be kind.’

The memory of that awful night edged into my mind. It strengthened my resolve to leave.

‘Thank you,’ he said but his tone was wry. I guessed it wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

It was then we heard the shout outside. A shot. The gates opening. A vehicle driving in, tyres squealing. The front door burst open and the security guard was marched in by two policemen. ‘I’m sorry, Sahib, they say they have authority.’

Shaukat jumped to his feet; his chair clattered behind him on the tiles. ‘What’s going on?’

A Western man the same age as Shaukat was with them. He saw me. ‘Ameera Hassan?’

‘Frank.’ I recognised his voice; he was shorter than I’d imagined, but muscled like an SAS soldier.

‘You know this man, Ameera?’ Shaukat couldn’t suppress his rage; his eyes glittered.

Then I saw Riaz and Tariq.
They came for me?
I didn’t trust myself to meet Tariq’s gaze. How had the embassy let him come? But this was Pakistan, anything could happen. I stood and put my dupatta over my head.

Shaukat addressed Frank. ‘Would you mind telling me why you have broken into my home? I’ll be reporting this.’

He said the last part in Urdu and swept his gaze over the police. They lowered their eyes. He had influence; would they still go through with it?

The older policeman turned towards me and intoned, ‘Ameera Hassan Zufar, do you testify that you were forced into a marriage with this man, Shaukat Iqbal Iman?’

Shaukat turned to me as if he expected me to deny it.

There was no joy in my answer. ‘Yes.’

‘You did not willingly give your permission?’

‘No.’

‘Ameera—’ I couldn’t bear to see the horror on Shaukat’s face.

Frank turned to Shaukat. ‘Did you take Ameera Hassan Zufar in marriage knowing she was being forced?’

The rage was gone; Shaukat was stunned.

I cut in. ‘Excuse me, he didn’t know. My father deceived him.’

Riaz made a noise and Frank held his hand out behind him. He would have discovered already how hotheaded Riaz was. I glanced at Tariq; he was watching me with such pain on his face that I looked away.

Realisation finally dawned on Shaukat’s face: he had recognised Riaz. Did he guess who Tariq was? He stared at me and his shoulders slumped; his eyes were dark hollows. ‘Ameera, don’t do this. You don’t understand. This will affect the whole family, not only you and me. And you are safe with me—you won’t be if you leave.’

He came around the table towards me, but a policeman stepped in front of him.

‘Your father won’t bear this. Haider will find you before you leave the country. A runaway bride is a dishonour he’ll have to avenge.’ His voice had risen and I didn’t like to see him like that; his cultured poise had slipped.

He appealed to Riaz. ‘If you love your sister, don’t do this. He’ll kill her. She’ll have a good life with me, I can give her anything. You know this, Riaz.’

But Riaz, with his Australian girlfriend, was in no mood to listen to Shaukat. He moved forward to stand near me. ‘Sign the paper,’ he said.

I sensed Frank’s impatience but I needed to explain. ‘I’m sorry, Shaukat, but it isn’t right. I want to go home.’ My voice squeaked to a stop; this was too hard.

‘But why?’ he said. ‘We’re married now. What life can you have if you leave, a runaway bride?’

I heard an exclamation behind me—was it Tariq?

Shaukat tried again. ‘We can live in Australia if that’s what you want.’

Frank gave a signal with his head and the older policeman stepped forward. ‘Shaukat Iqbal Iman, knowingly or not you have participated in a forced marriage. This is an offence according to the government of Pakistan and we have the authority to remove Ameera Hassan from your home.’ He waved a paper in front of Shaukat.

Riaz handed me a pen and guided my hand to the page in front of me. Yet again the form was in Urdu. There was a sticker with my name on it to show me where to sign. I
signed more willingly than I had my marriage papers. Even if I had wanted to hug Shaukat to show I was sorry, I couldn’t, for Riaz had taken hold of me. One thing I could do: I took off the ring Shaukat had put on my finger at the wedding and set it carefully on the paper.

‘Ameera—’

I never saw how they got Shaukat to sign for Riaz guided me out of the room. I could hear Shaukat shouting as Riaz picked up my backpack. ‘Riaz! Can you keep her safe now? Ameera! You’re my wife! Ameera!’

I slumped against my brother, but it was Tariq who lifted me into his arms. His eyes were as dark and warm as I remembered. My own eyes filled with tears at the enormous thing I’d done and I hid my face in his coat as he carried me out into the rain. Now my life was ruined, but I chose to go back to Australia. I hoped Shaukat was bluffing and I could make a life for myself back home.

It wasn’t until Tariq had put me in the back seat of an embassy car, next to a woman, that I began to shake. The woman was prepared with a blanket and a flask of sweet chai.

I must have slept, for I woke when we arrived at a gate that was opened by security guards. I had the impression of high fences and barbed wire. It looked like a prison. The woman reassured me when she felt me stiffen.

‘This is a refuge for women like you,’ she said. ‘You are safe here. No one can come in.’

I was shown to a room; it had the essentials and its own toilet and sink. It was all I needed. They let Riaz in to say good night. When he hugged me I shook with sobs.

‘It’s okay, Ames. You’re safe now.’

‘Am I?’ I pulled away. ‘Will I ever be free from the guilt? I’ve been so selfish. Now I’m a bad girl, a runaway bride. That’s all people will remember. They won’t know it was a forced marriage. And Papa—he’ll be so angry. He’ll lose everything.’

‘Are you talking about your dowry?’

I fumbled in my pocket for a tissue. ‘Shaukat and Uncle Iqbal were giving Papa money for the business—that will all fall through now. He’s put so much money into the wedding, Jamila’s too. He’ll be bankrupt.’

‘Shit.’

‘I hadn’t thought properly about the whole family,’ I sobbed. ‘The dishonour. I’ve broken up the family.’

Would Meena understand? Asher may, but how could Zeba? Then there was Aunty Khushida and Aunt Bibi. After all they’d done for me, they would feel so betrayed.

‘You’ve got me and Mum,’ Riaz said.

‘But Papa will be shamed. I love him—how could I do that to him? And Shaukat—I didn’t know he’d get so upset.’

‘Don’t forget what Dad did was illegal.’

‘Only governments think it’s illegal, not fathers and families.’

‘For what it’s worth, I think it’s illegal and I’m glad you’re out of it. Someone has to stand up for what’s right.’

‘But at what cost?’ I sniffed and stared up at him. ‘Riaz, what makes us different? Raniya wouldn’t have refused a marriage her parents had arranged.’ Though to
be fair, Raniya’s parents would have chosen someone she wanted. ‘How come you can see the marriage was illegal and Papa couldn’t?’

‘He had a lot to gain by the look of it.’ Then Riaz stopped and looked at me, perhaps gauging how I’d take what he said next. ‘Sometimes I think Dad’s code of honour is overrated.’

I gaped at him.

‘It’s a permissible way to save face, to take the law into his own hands. Maybe they had to do that years ago in the mountains, but not now. It makes parents too responsible for everything their kids do, forces them to control rather than guide by faith. What honour is there in a forced marriage?’

I was too stunned to comment.

‘Maybe being born in Australia changes the equation,’ Riaz said. ‘I’m not so tied to the old culture like he is.’ He put his arm around me and we sank onto the bed. ‘When you said you loved Tariq—’

‘You understood.’

He nodded. ‘I know what that feels like. I want to marry Cassie too.’

‘Poor Papa. He thinks Mum’s such a bad influence on us.’

‘Poor Papa nothing. He needs to get over himself. We’ve got half Mum’s genes. How could he not expect that by living in Australia we would want to have choices of our own? I understand where Dad’s coming from and I’ll stick by him, look after him when he’s old, but it’ll be because of my feelings for him, not a duty forced on me.’

I heard an echo of Jamila in my ear: ‘You are so Western.’ I also heard the sob in Riaz’s voice. ‘Dad will feel shame because of what we’ve done, but he has to understand us too. This is your choice. You have a right to live a life without abuse.’

‘He didn’t mean it to be abuse,’ I said against Riaz’s shoulder. ‘He loves us.’

Riaz sighed and pulled away. ‘Dad’s love is conditional.’

I nodded. Lately I’d thought Papa’s love depended more and more on how I behaved.

‘But it’s the only love he knows,’ Riaz continued. ‘He was scared of losing you, Ames.’

‘How does he cope with you?’ I half-grinned at him.

Riaz shrugged. ‘He turns a blind eye to me at the moment. What he knows about, he thinks I’ll grow out of.’ Then he turned to face me properly. ‘You are braver than me, Ames, and even if Dad disowns me because of this—it’s worth it to see you rescued. I know I haven’t been the best brother, but I couldn’t have lived with myself if I left you here knowing I could have helped.’

I put my hand over his and thought how Bollywood movies always showed the bride being obedient and at the last moment her father relented and let her marry who she loved. But Papa wouldn’t listen.

‘It must be hard for Papa,’ I said. ‘He was brought up here and had to learn to live in Australia.’ I had always thought I was both Australian and Pakistani but now all I could think of was returning home.

‘You’ll feel better when you’re home,’ Riaz said. ‘Mum’s buying a unit. You can go to uni.’

I shook my head. ‘I’ve missed the first round—they’ll have given my place to someone else.’

‘That’s where you’re wrong. Dad opened your letter and I got your number. Tariq accepted your preference on the web. You’re in at Adelaide uni, you start in March.’

I wanted to feel excitement but it was just words. Riaz lay me down and pulled the covers up.

‘Everything will be okay, Ames, and I’ll help all the way. There’s Tariq too. I couldn’t have done this without him. Mum and I made sure Frank let him come along.’

‘He won’t want me now,’ I said.

Riaz paused. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I was married, Riaz.’ I burst into fresh weeping.

Riaz bent his forehead down to the pillow and was quiet awhile. ‘I know Tariq, give him a chance.’ Then he sat up. ‘Cassie slept with someone before she met me.’

I was shocked he’d tell me. ‘Doesn’t that bother you?’

He half-grinned. ‘Sure, I was upset at first but I’m not going to break up with her over it. It’s different in Australia. It doesn’t mean a girl has to be bad to do that. Cassie’s the greatest.’

He patted my hair while I tried not to cry again. He was being kind, but nothing was all right like he said. I hadn’t realised I’d feel so bad, so ugly, so impure. I couldn’t bear to think how Tariq’s face would change when he found out. His parents wouldn’t want a runaway bride for a daughter-in-law.

They said I slept for two days. The embassy lady who’d helped in the rescue was called Nazreen. She poked her head into my room and waved a phone. ‘I have your mother on the line, would you like to speak with her?’

I sat up so quickly I felt dizzy, but I reached for the phone.

‘Mum?’

‘Oh, thank God, what a relief. Are you okay?’

‘I’m fine. As fine as I can be.’ What else could I say? She was so far away.

‘When you disappeared for those weeks I thought we’d lost you. I thought the worst had happened.’

I wondered what could be worse than what had happened. Then I realised that for Mum, my death would be the worst.

‘I nearly came over,’ she said, ‘but Frank said not to. So I sent Riaz and Tariq. Your grandfather paid their fares. They’ll bring you home, sweetheart.’

Home. That was when I started to cry.

She paused. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘I’m okay,’ I said but I couldn’t stop the sobs.

‘You’ll be with me soon.’

‘I can’t wait to see you, Mum.’

I had wanted to talk to her for so long but now I couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t take hours. I guessed she understood because soon she ended the call.

Nazreen must have been waiting outside the door; she came in and asked how I felt. Almost without hesitation I told her about Shaukat.

‘So he forced you?’

I nodded. ‘Once. I’m not sure now why I left. If I stayed with Shaukat, Papa would be happy.’

‘You wouldn’t be though.’

‘Papa says happiness for oneself is a selfish Western attribute. He tried to beat it out of me.’ I met her quick glance. ‘Metaphorically. He says happiness only comes when we know we are submissive to God and doing His will. To Papa, my marrying Shaukat was doing God’s will.’

‘Do
you
believe that?’

I stared at Nazreen. She was Pakistani, a Muslim and educated. She understood everything I was feeling.

‘When I was with Shaukat, I could believe a forced marriage was wrong, that God didn’t will it,’ I said.

‘But now?’

‘Now I’m thinking about how I’ve made everyone else feel.’

Nazreen nodded. There was no glib answer for what I had thrown away. Then she said, ‘What have you gained?’

I thought. ‘My mother.’ I smiled. ‘My brother, my grandparents. A life in the place where I grew up. Study, friends, a career.’

‘You are fortunate—we have rescued brides whose mothers and brothers have sided with the father.’

‘To have no one—how brave were they?’

‘Yes, they were brave.’

‘Stupid, perhaps, selfish—’

Nazreen cut in. ‘So far, only Western girls like you have the strength or resources to leave a forced marriage.’

I thought of Nargis. ‘The girls living here may not realise they can leave.’

‘We are raising awareness here and in the West that forced marriages are domestic abuse. But there is a long road ahead of us, and many don’t like what we are doing. Our lives have been threatened.’

‘Frank too?’

‘Yes, though mainly it is we Pakistanis who should know better.’ She half-laughed.

‘Can you help someone else?’ I asked. ‘There’s a girl called Nargis in Muzaffarabad, a teacher. She’s too frightened to do anything—her husband beats her.’

‘Normally a call for help has to come from her or a family member.’

‘Can’t you treat this as a call for help? One day he’ll kill her.’

She nodded. ‘We’ll look into it.’ She took my hand then. ‘Ameera, the road ahead will not be easy. You may suffer some depression. It is possible your father will never see you again.’

I gasped. That possibility had never entered my mind. Would Papa be that cruel?

‘But may I say this,’ Nazreen continued. ‘You have not compromised your faith by standing up for what is right. People need to acknowledge where there is abuse, even when those perpetuating it don’t realise that’s what it is. You have made a worthy stand for women’s freedom in Pakistan.’

Her words only made me cry for I couldn’t think on such a vast level. Two things filled my mind: the fear of never seeing Papa again, and the look on Shaukat’s face when I was asked if I’d given my permission and I said ‘no’. He couldn’t have looked more stricken if I’d sunk a knife in his chest.

I wanted to thank Tariq for coming and being a support to Riaz, but he wasn’t allowed in my room. I was confined and protected yet again, but this time I didn’t mind.

Frank came to see me with Nazreen. ‘The police need to know if you want to press charges. If what you said about your husband is true, he’ll be free from suspicion, but your uncle faces three years in gaol here. In Australia, your father could get up to twenty-five years.’

I was horrified. ‘No, I couldn’t do that.’

‘Look what they did to you.’

I shook my head.

‘Okay. But your uncle will be told of his narrow escape. I don’t think he’ll give you any trouble.’

It wasn’t Uncle Rasheed I was worried about. Haider, with his disproportionate sense of honour, was the problem.

‘Will my father be told about it?’ I asked.

‘An official report will be sent to him, along with the length of sentence he could face.’

‘But he won’t be arrested?’

‘No, but I don’t think it hurts to warn him of what could happen if at any time you do decide to press charges.’ Frank stared at his hands for a moment, then he leaned forward. ‘If at any time you feel unsafe, go to the police. There will be a plainclothes policeman assigned to you for a time. But I doubt you’ll have any trouble with the Pakistani Women’s Bill protecting you.’

I glanced at Nazreen and she met my eyes. Was she thinking as I was that laws couldn’t change centuries of customs? My family in Pakistan was Pushtun, an ancient culture based on a complicated code of honour. Modern education hadn’t diluted that code in Haider.

‘Your flight is fixed for tomorrow,’ Frank went on. ‘The airport run can be tricky. I’m afraid we’ll have to put you in a burqa and you mustn’t wear any clothes, shoes or jewellery anyone may recognise. Understand?’

I nodded.

‘Nazreen has some clothes you can use.’ Frank glanced at my backpack. ‘Not that bag either, or your handbag. We’ll give you a different one. Nazreen will be with you. She’ll bring one of her children and you’ll pretend the child is yours. A bodyguard will accompany you through the gates. He will appear to be your
husband. He and Nazreen have a special pass to go with you; he has a licence to carry a gun.’

I stiffened but Frank didn’t notice.

‘I will be behind you, but don’t look for me. And, of course, you have an escort on the plane with your brother and Tariq.’ He smiled at me and then looked away. When he looked back, his eyes glistened. ‘For a while there, when we didn’t hear from you, I thought you’d decided to go along with it.’

‘It was difficult,’ I said. ‘My father will be inconsolable. And my…my husband is not an evil man.’ My chin wobbled. Tears were never far away lately.

‘I understand some of it,’ Frank said, ‘but girls forced into marriages they didn’t choose just isn’t on in my book. No culture should condone that.’

‘No.’ But my voice was quiet. How could people like Frank affect centuries of culture? Only the moon can change the tide.