My sweetheart whose fate insists

on paving her pathwith thorns

How do you keep walking?

Saba, unable to hold back her tears, bowed her head. Zahra, come and greet your sister, said the grandmother. I am as upset as you are, but I trust Saba. She agreed to marry for a reason.

Wasn’t it you, Grandmother, who told us the time has passed that girls should concede their ambitions for others?

Talk to Saba, not to me, the grandmother said.

Turning to the girls, the grandmother asked them to come with her and leave the two friends alone.

She closed the door behind her. Saba stumbled as she entered the hut and stood next to Zahra.

Did you have a drink?

Saba nodded and leaned against the pole.

You surprise me, Saba, Zahra said, putting the tape player on the ground. I mean, you didn’t even resist your mother, you didn’t even try to persuade her to change her mind. Zahra paused and took a deep breath. I thought you would protest. What happened to the future you are working to save towards?

Do you think I would get far by washing clothes?

We all have to start somewhere. You said it yourself, Saba. But you gave in to your mother and the midwife.

Saba looked into Zahra’s eyes. Zahra, I am not being defeated by my mother, tradition or anyone. I am being practical. I am a refugee living in a refugee camp. Nothing meaningful happens here.

What about school? The aid workers even said that once a school opens here, they will send the best students to the city. And you told me you were always the best in your school back home.

The aid workers have said this since day one. The clinic, the school, the improvement of hygiene, permits to be able to travel: none of these happened. I am trapped here, so what’s the difference if I move my unattainable dreams with me to someone else’s compound?

God damn this country.

Zahra’s shouting drew a crowd. Heads appeared outside the window. The door was flung open by a group of kids. Tell me, Zahra, why is it this country’s fault? Saba asked, continuing their private conversation in the presence of strangers.

What land of people would have the heart to put us in this camp?

Ask yourself why we are here, said Saba.

Where does your love for this country come from, Saba? We have never even met its people. Never lived among them.

Saba didn’t respond.

I need to be by myself now, said Zahra.

Saba staggered out of Zahra’s hut and headed home. Home, she repeated her thought out loud.

Home.

At home, her watch showed it was ten o’clock in the evening. Saba was hanging thinly sliced meat on the clothesline under the full moon, so it would dry overnight, when Zahra stepped into the compound. She was holding a bag.

Saba wept as she threw herself into her friend’s arms. Please, don’t cry. But Zahra’s pleas only provoked more tears.