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piosenniel · 06-24-2003, 09:29 PM

Jamílah and Briellah

Jamílah’s words to Briellah brought no comfort to the woman. Her hands were clasped tightly around her mug of hot drink, a vain hope that the warmth of it would warm, too, her spirit. She told her how the children were pulling away from the elders and from the traditions of the tribe. She spoke of Munir, and how he had been beaten when he returned to his family.

Briellah shook her head sadly, her eyes going wide when Jamílah told her that the Clan Elders had banished the young one’s group. ‘We cannot save them, or so it seems to us. And so we must look to the safety of the Tribe.’

Most disconcerting to both women was Jamílah’s recounting of Munir’s story. How the leader of the young ones’ group, Jasara, seemed to be entranced at times and listened to a voice unheard by others, and spoke with it.

‘Have you heard of this among the other tribes,’ Jamílah asked, searching her friend’s face. ‘Is there a leader among your young ones? Does some voice speak to them.’

__________________________________________________ _____________________

Qirfah and Qamar

Breakfast was done. Husam and the two children had eaten with Qamar’s family - Husam giving the excuse that Qirfah felt unwell. Qamar’s face had brightened at this news, and she whispered in his ear as she passed him the bowl of porridge.

‘Am I to be an auntie, again?!’

Husam looked away at her question, his face a carefully controlled mask, and said nothing. He had eaten hurriedly after that, thanking her briefly for the meal, then gone out to work in the small communal garden. Laylah and Ihab, unconcerned with their father’s abrupt departure, chattered on merrily with Qamar’s children, then followed in his wake to the clearing in the center of the camp, dragging their cousins out for a game of sticks and hoops.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

‘You look awful!’

Qamar’s voice cut through the heavy thoughts that ran through Qirfah’s mind that morning. She had had no sleep, but had lain awake what little of the night was left, replaying the image of Ahmad as he passed her in the darkness.

His presence had stirred her memories of him, which if truth be told, were never far from her. She felt caught in the trap of her little life. And she could not see her way free from it.

She looked up at her sister, her face ashy, eyelids red from lack of sleep and hastily wiped away tears. Qamar crouched down close to her, her hand sweeping a stray lock behind her sister’s ear. My sweet big sister. How I hate to see you sad. Qamar sighed at the question she saw in Qirfah’s eyes. Oh, do not ask me, heart of my heart. How can I deny you?

‘Qamar,’ her sister began, her voice ragged with sadness, ‘please, will you help me?’

[ June 25, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

06-24-2003, 09:29 PM	#55
piosenniel Desultory Dwimmerlaik Join Date: Mar 2002 Location: Pickin' flowers with Bill the Cat..... Posts: 7,779	Jamílah and Briellah Jamílah’s words to Briellah brought no comfort to the woman. Her hands were clasped tightly around her mug of hot drink, a vain hope that the warmth of it would warm, too, her spirit. She told her how the children were pulling away from the elders and from the traditions of the tribe. She spoke of Munir, and how he had been beaten when he returned to his family. Briellah shook her head sadly, her eyes going wide when Jamílah told her that the Clan Elders had banished the young one’s group. ‘We cannot save them, or so it seems to us. And so we must look to the safety of the Tribe.’ Most disconcerting to both women was Jamílah’s recounting of Munir’s story. How the leader of the young ones’ group, Jasara, seemed to be entranced at times and listened to a voice unheard by others, and spoke with it. ‘Have you heard of this among the other tribes,’ Jamílah asked, searching her friend’s face. ‘Is there a leader among your young ones? Does some voice speak to them.’ __________________________________________________ _____________________ Qirfah and Qamar Breakfast was done. Husam and the two children had eaten with Qamar’s family - Husam giving the excuse that Qirfah felt unwell. Qamar’s face had brightened at this news, and she whispered in his ear as she passed him the bowl of porridge. ‘Am I to be an auntie, again?!’ Husam looked away at her question, his face a carefully controlled mask, and said nothing. He had eaten hurriedly after that, thanking her briefly for the meal, then gone out to work in the small communal garden. Laylah and Ihab, unconcerned with their father’s abrupt departure, chattered on merrily with Qamar’s children, then followed in his wake to the clearing in the center of the camp, dragging their cousins out for a game of sticks and hoops. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ‘You look awful!’ Qamar’s voice cut through the heavy thoughts that ran through Qirfah’s mind that morning. She had had no sleep, but had lain awake what little of the night was left, replaying the image of Ahmad as he passed her in the darkness. His presence had stirred her memories of him, which if truth be told, were never far from her. She felt caught in the trap of her little life. And she could not see her way free from it. She looked up at her sister, her face ashy, eyelids red from lack of sleep and hastily wiped away tears. Qamar crouched down close to her, her hand sweeping a stray lock behind her sister’s ear. My sweet big sister. How I hate to see you sad.* Qamar sighed at the question she saw in Qirfah’s eyes. Oh, do not ask me, heart of my heart. How can I deny you? ‘Qamar,’ her sister began, her voice ragged with sadness, ‘please, will you help me?’ [ June 25, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ] __________________ Eldest, that’s what I am . . . I knew the dark under the stars when it was fearless - before the Dark Lord came from Outside.