Grandma’s Garden

Deidre was rankled down to her very toes. She sat on the front steps of her house, her arms holding her legs tightly. As if doing so would hold back her tears of anger and hurt. She was angry because her father forbade her to go over to her friend, Aisha’s house again. Hurt, because Aisha was her best friend and would be moving soon. In a few months she would not be able to visit her so easily. She lived right across the street, a few hopscotch jumps and you are there. Why did he do this? Because, he saw her and Aisha holding hands walking down the street wearing khimars! Deidre had always wanted to wear one because she thought Aisha looked so cute wearing hers. On that day she borrowed one of Aisha’s so they could pretend look-a-like sisters. She had no idea that simply wearing one would cause her father to react so sternly.

“Why, Papa? Why?” She asked repeatedly.

“You are picking up too many strange ideas hanging around with that girl.””

“But, Papa, Aisha is so nice and I have so much fun with….”

“If it was only fun you were having it wouldn’t be a problem. I don’t want you being like those “backward” Muslims.”

“But, Papa”…

“That’s the end of it. No more going over to her house!”

Deidre ran to her room and cried; shocked at this turn of events. Why did he call her backwards? What could she do? She did not know how to tell Aisha. What was she going to say?

She looked out her window from where she sat on her bed and thought about all the good times she had over at Aisha’s house. One of the main reasons she loved going there was to see Aisha’s grandmother. She was so-o nice and was always home.

Deidre’s home was usually empty when she returned from school because her father was still at work. Her mother had passed away several years ago. She missed her terribly. That was one thing she and Aisha had in common.

They both were motherless, having lost them when they were very young.

Aisha was her favorite friend. She loved the way she looked in her hijab and was impressed by the fact that she prayed five times a day. But she was most impressed by Aishah’s grandmother who was a Muslim too and was raising her like a daughter. Aishah never knew her mother who died when she was a baby. So, her grandmother was the only mother she had ever known.

Deidre never knew her grandmother. She wished she did, especially after hearing so many stories about her from many members of her large extended family. Mostly the things they said were not so nice. She became curious about her because of these stories. Strangely, her father never said a word. She guessed this was his way of dealing with the family gossip. Do not add to the fire. Douse it with silence.

First, there were the stories from her older girl cousins; that she was the meanest woman on earth. Probably, because during their summer vacations with her she kept a tight rein. She would not let them party anywhere, anytime and with anybody at all hours of the night. Deidre’s uncles, her sons when they reminisced moaned about her demands, especially for money. And her aunts, always complained about her interference and domineering ways. Hence, she heard much talk but nothing loving or sad about her passing. So, though she was long gone, her influence was still heavy. Because conversation about her continued at family gatherings to influence Deidre’s little ears.

Another reason Deidre became more curious about her grandmother was because of her friend, Aisha. It was unusual for Deidre to spend time with a friend whose “mother,” was home in the early afternoon. Her other friends’ mothers worked and did not come home until late afternoon or early evening. When she visited Aishah, they would play word games and puzzles and help each other with homework.

Indeed, Aishah’s grandmother treated Deidre so kindly when she came to visit, even inviting her to sit with them when they read The Holy Qur’an together. Deidre liked the sound of it almost like they were singing. She would hum along softly with them as they recited. That was fun.

Sometimes her grandmother would invite her to have afternoon tea with them. Deidre loved the delicious butter cookies too! Sitting next to “Granny” as she liked to be called was like taking a vacation into an unknown world. When Aisha’s grandmother poured the tea, Deidre could not help but notice her hands. They were lined with veins, like the lines she read on roadmaps at school in her geography class. They looked like routes to many places she must have been in her lifetime. Deidre felt that they were friendly protective lines like the hopscotch lines she jumped in between or the gentle embrace of her father’s arms. Granny’s hands made her think: What were her own grandmother’s hands like? Was she gentle and kind? She hoped so, in spite of what her relatives said.

Granny’s voice was pleasant too, not like the women in Deidre’s family who were on the raucous side at family gatherings.

After visiting Aisha, Deidre realized how fortunate she was to have had her mother even for a short time. But still, she admired Aisha’s relationship with her grandmother. She wished she had a grandmother that she could remember and talk about in a nice way.

Then came the day; Deidre remembered it clearly. She and Aisha did not look alike at first glance. Aisha with her thick, dark, wavy hair and olive complexion was a sharp contrast to Deidre’s ginger hair and vanilla skin. They were both about the same height though. On that day, Deidre decided to wear one of Aisha’s khimars for fun. She picked a white one like the one Aisha wore to school everyday.

When she put it on, Aisha said, “Alhamdulillah!”

She was always saying funny-sounding words when something good, bad or indifferent happened. Deidre by this time knew they were Arabic words.

With the two of them wearing khimars, they looked like the sisters they pretended to be. Admiring themselves in the mirror they both said, “Alhamdulillah!”

“Come on! Let’s go for a walk!” Aisha said and grabbed Deidre’s hand to lead the way.

They ran down the stairs past Granny who was in the kitchen and did not notice them. Once outside, they walked around the house to the rear garden and sat on a bench.

“Hum-m-m! It smells so good.” Deidre said, breathing in deeply the fragrance of the sweet smelling pink roses.

“Alhamdulillah! I like it back here too. Granny planted this rose bush and the other flowers. Do you recognize them?”

“Well, sure the roses are easy. Then there’s the pansies, petunias, nasturtiums and marigolds.”

“You surprise me. How do you know all that?”

“Going to the farm with my father every summer, I’ve seen all kinds of flowers and plants.”

Aisha reached down and picked a pansy from the flower bush next to the bench. “My favorite flower is the pansy. I like the colors, purple, brown, yellow and burgundy. One pansy is like having three flowers in one with all those colors.”

Deidre looked at Aisha and thought she was like the pansy: unusual and pretty. And she was also kind.

“How do you feel wearing the khimar?”

“I forgot I was wearing it.” They both laughed and walked to the front of the house.

That’s when it happened. Her father was driving his car and saw them when he drove past. Deidre waved her hand and smiled. Aisha did the same. Her life changed that same beautiful day. The sunny fragrant garden became a storm cloud that rained away her happy day forever.

One evening, shortly after the horrible demand made by her father, Deidre saw him looking through a book that she had never seen before.

“What’s that old book, Papa?”

“It belonged to your grandmother. I had it packed away in a box in a closet upstairs. I need it for some information about our family genealogy.”

“Our family genealogy?”

“Yes, I’m helping with the research of our history for our family reunion. Your grandmother kept our family records written here in this old Bible.”

Her father put the book down on the coffee table and smiled. He seemed to be in a good mood. Deidre wondered if she could ask him had he changed his mind about her visiting Aisha.

“Papa, Can we talk about Aish….,”

“No! The subject is closed. Make sure you put the dishes away and finish your homework.” With those words he stood up and left the room.

Deidre sat down in his chair and tried to fight back her tears. How was she going to tell Aisha that she could no longer visit her? What reason could she give? Aisha had done nothing, except be a good friend. Deidre was glad they did not go to the same school where she would be forced to deal with this issue sooner.
Finally the tears escaped and became a released flood of relief. When she stopped crying her eyes rested on her grandmother’s Bible. She looked at it for what seemed like ages before finally picking it up carefully. It opened easily to certain pages that had items between them: ribbons and pressed flowers! Roses, violets, and yes, even a pansy! A pansy! On this page her parents’ names were written in her grandmother’s lovely handwriting. She wondered if she wrote with a deeply veined hand like Aisha’s grandmother. Under their names was her name! And beside her name was a faint red lip print. Her grandmother had kissed her name!

Deidre stared at her name written lovingly, the flower, the kiss. Now she knew. Her grandmother was kind and loved flowers. Perhaps she had a flower garden like Aisha’s grandmother. And maybe her favorite flower was the pansy. She knew now that if she could not say it at least she could feel love in her heart for her. And she would carry the wonderful memories of Aisha and her grandmother in her heart too.

By Zakia Iman Shahbaz