All she had ever wanted, truly wanted, known she had wanted, was a baby. Was that too much to ask? Her mother had more children than she wanted, and Salma had all the children she wanted. But she was like a doll, never pregnant, always slight and slim. Husband after husband, month after month. All she had ever asked for was a child. And, at first, she had thought it would be easy, just like that, marriage then baby, one following the other, the consequence of the other. Every cycle, she hoped it would be the last time she bled for a long while, but month after month, every month, a disappointment. Iman had always been in tune with her body. Unlike other girls, who could be fussy, who disliked the smell of what leaked out of them, who were terrified of their husbands on that first wedding night. Iman was a natural. She took it all in her stride. Surely hers should be the body to grow ripe with child, the body that was brimming with fertility, the potential for life. Go to school, ensnare a husband, become a receptionist – all to bide time for her true calling, her understanding of the meaning of life.

Yet neither the Hoopoe nor Salma spoke to her about this. They did not face her disappointment head-on. They did not explain to her why Moni was a mother and she was not. Why Salma had four and she had none. They would say it was Allah’s will and she knew that already, but why was it His will? What was the logic behind it, the purpose, the intention? As long as she did not know, she would be bewildered, killing time, waiting to find out the purpose of her humanity.

She had asked Salma once, ‘Is my constipation stopping me from getting pregnant?’ And Salma laughed and said, ‘Don’t be silly. There’s no connection.’ But how was she expected to know what connected to what and what caused what. She had been bored at school, lessons that were too abstract, patriotic songs which meant nothing, all the silly fuss about clean copybooks.

Hands and knees on the ground. Under her palms, the soil seemed to give way, to cave in ever so slightly. Oh, so this would be like the other time when the dog knocked her over. The earth sucking her in and this time she would not be afraid. She would not resist. She did not want to continue walking without Salma, it was not worth it to complete the challenge of the trail on her own. She rolled on her back and saw the disapproval in the Hoopoe’s eyes. ‘Stand up, Iman.’

She smiled at him. ‘I don’t want to, and you can’t force me.’

‘Didn’t I teach you? Didn’t I warn you?’