The Child
December 18th 2007 09:14
The Child
Tears welled.
Tiny delicate fingers grasped the trembling index finger.
"You have to sign," Talon ordered. "That is what we swore we would do. You cannot change your mind now!"
Saiera allowed the tears to fall, tightening her hold on the newborn in her arms.
"Saiera," Talon sat on hospital bed, beside his wife. His eyes never peered into the bundle. "You must do this."
But Saiera could only hold the bundle closer, gulping when the tears became too much. Tiny fingers of her newborn stirred.
Ever so slightly Saiera shook her head, careful not to shake it too much and appear as a defiant wife. Still, her heart wept.
"By the time I return, you will sign!" Talon cursed and walked out.
Pursing her lips, Saiera felt a twinge of hope that her husband would never return.
"If the wind changes, your lips will remain like that," an elderly woman scolded, making her way to her bedside.
Saiera smiled. Her grandmother was fond of that saying. And then Saiera cried so much that the old woman took the bundle from her arms and sat at the lone chair in the expansive whitewashed hospital room.
"Let me tell you a story," Saiera's grandmother began. "I know you don't feel like one of my stories today, but, I believe the little one can do with some storytelling. Remember how I would tell you a story each night?"
Saiera nodded.
"Then, let me tell you this one and then you will feel better. I promise you," her grandmother said. "Unfortunately, this is a true story – one that happened in my generation. So, a long time ago, in my village, there was a decree that the female child was of no use in the structure of the family. The male child, on the other hand, could chop the wood, tend to the animals and do all chores. So, when famine became our unwelcome guest, the men of the village decided that all female children born would be put to death within 12 hours of their birth,"
Saiera gasped, her hands flying to her mouth in horror. "No!"
"Remember, my grand-daughter, we had famine. At the time, the men of our family believed they were doing the right thing," she caressed the face of the bundle in her arms. "So, allow me to continue. It became the normal practice for a good twenty years and then the villagers reaped what they had sown. The young men of the village desired a wife. They believed they were strong to till the soil and smart to look after an entire farm. They prided themselves on being the sons of their fathers but unlike their fathers, they had no brides. The young men of my village traveled to all villages to find wives but the reputation of the village preceded them and no-one would allow their daughters to marry into such ignorance. Eventually, no matter how far they traveled, they would always return dejected and alone."
"How long did that go on for?" Saiera asked, intrigued enough to stop crying.
"Forever, dear child. Their bloodline died out."
Saiera laughed. "Oh, nanna, what a tale you weave. If it was all true and it was your village, why are you here?"
"My father and mother dressed me as a male child and when I was four years old, we all traveled to another village," the grandmother shared; a smile spreading across her face and her cheeks reddening as she recalled her beloved parents. "My mother and father were very wise and have always believed that in life, no matter what others do or say, we have a choice. They chose me." Laying the child in her mother's arms the old woman then departed, leaving her granddaughter with hope.
Less than an hour later, Saiera's husband marched into the hospital room, anger visible in her eyes. "You have not signed!" he cried out, grabbing the untouched document and waving it in her face. "You know it takes both our signatures!"
The child whimpered in Saiera's arms.
Saiera drew the bundle closer in a protective hug and staring directly into her husbands eyes declared, "I am keeping my daughter!"
[ Text and original characters copyright © 2007 by Teresa Strati ]
Tears welled.
Tiny delicate fingers grasped the trembling index finger.
"You have to sign," Talon ordered. "That is what we swore we would do. You cannot change your mind now!"
Saiera allowed the tears to fall, tightening her hold on the newborn in her arms.
"Saiera," Talon sat on hospital bed, beside his wife. His eyes never peered into the bundle. "You must do this."
But Saiera could only hold the bundle closer, gulping when the tears became too much. Tiny fingers of her newborn stirred.
Ever so slightly Saiera shook her head, careful not to shake it too much and appear as a defiant wife. Still, her heart wept.
"By the time I return, you will sign!" Talon cursed and walked out.
Pursing her lips, Saiera felt a twinge of hope that her husband would never return.
"If the wind changes, your lips will remain like that," an elderly woman scolded, making her way to her bedside.
Saiera smiled. Her grandmother was fond of that saying. And then Saiera cried so much that the old woman took the bundle from her arms and sat at the lone chair in the expansive whitewashed hospital room.
"Let me tell you a story," Saiera's grandmother began. "I know you don't feel like one of my stories today, but, I believe the little one can do with some storytelling. Remember how I would tell you a story each night?"
Saiera nodded.
"Then, let me tell you this one and then you will feel better. I promise you," her grandmother said. "Unfortunately, this is a true story – one that happened in my generation. So, a long time ago, in my village, there was a decree that the female child was of no use in the structure of the family. The male child, on the other hand, could chop the wood, tend to the animals and do all chores. So, when famine became our unwelcome guest, the men of the village decided that all female children born would be put to death within 12 hours of their birth,"
Saiera gasped, her hands flying to her mouth in horror. "No!"
"Remember, my grand-daughter, we had famine. At the time, the men of our family believed they were doing the right thing," she caressed the face of the bundle in her arms. "So, allow me to continue. It became the normal practice for a good twenty years and then the villagers reaped what they had sown. The young men of the village desired a wife. They believed they were strong to till the soil and smart to look after an entire farm. They prided themselves on being the sons of their fathers but unlike their fathers, they had no brides. The young men of my village traveled to all villages to find wives but the reputation of the village preceded them and no-one would allow their daughters to marry into such ignorance. Eventually, no matter how far they traveled, they would always return dejected and alone."
"How long did that go on for?" Saiera asked, intrigued enough to stop crying.
"Forever, dear child. Their bloodline died out."
Saiera laughed. "Oh, nanna, what a tale you weave. If it was all true and it was your village, why are you here?"
"My father and mother dressed me as a male child and when I was four years old, we all traveled to another village," the grandmother shared; a smile spreading across her face and her cheeks reddening as she recalled her beloved parents. "My mother and father were very wise and have always believed that in life, no matter what others do or say, we have a choice. They chose me." Laying the child in her mother's arms the old woman then departed, leaving her granddaughter with hope.
Less than an hour later, Saiera's husband marched into the hospital room, anger visible in her eyes. "You have not signed!" he cried out, grabbing the untouched document and waving it in her face. "You know it takes both our signatures!"
The child whimpered in Saiera's arms.
Saiera drew the bundle closer in a protective hug and staring directly into her husbands eyes declared, "I am keeping my daughter!"
...000…
[ Text and original characters copyright © 2007 by Teresa Strati ]
| 49 |
| Vote |
Shared on
Subscribe to this blog
