Carmita looked around the tiny
room. It was not much, she thought, but
it was cleans, and besides, their guest wouldn’t be expecting much more. Carmita closed the door on the room
carefully, so as not to stir up any dust.
The plainness of the guest room was mirrored with the rest of the
house. Bare walls, mere holes for
windows, a cooking fire and a table with a few chairs were the only things in
the room. The simple cupboard had gone
only last year to pay the taxes. Carmita
moved slowly and heavily to the fire. It
had gone out, but she had no energy just then to relight it. Grabbing a dipper she headed outside to where
the water bucket lay in the shade. She
dipped out a drink, allowing the warm water to run slowly down her throat. It felt refreshing despite the luke-warm
temperature. Carmita pushed the loose
curls of hair away from her face, wishing a cool breeze would come and cool her
forehead – but none came.
She glanced down the road. He mother,
Anamari, the expected guest, would be arriving soon. Normally, at times of childbirth, the
mother-in-law was the in the hoe, ready to help out. But Carmita’s parents-in-law had died several
years ago, and she and Tali had sole ownership of the house. Anamari had been more than willing to take
the mother’s spot in the household as the time drew nearer.
But there was no sight of her yet,
and Carmita turned back, out of the sun and into the relative shade of the
house.
Anamari didn’t arrive until long
after the heat of the day had passed.
She was travelling alone, having left husband, sons and daughters-in-law
at home, tilling the soil, preparing for harvest.
Carmita rushed out to meet her
mother. Anamari held her tight,
whispering words of love and receiving the words of generous welcome. Then they turned and sauntered slowly into
the hose.
“’Tis a grand house you’ve got her,”
Anamari said. Carmita looked around at
the bare room – small and simple. But
the walls were strong and the dirt was packed hard enough that it swept clean.
“Aye,” she agreed, “The walls are
strong and have been ever since they were built - when Tali was little.”
Anamari touched the wall with her
hand, feeling the solidly packed clay and mud, “They are much better than your
old home,” she said, “I had to patch the walls again only last week. It is good to have such a strong place to
raise your family.”
Carmita flushed slightly, but nodded
her head in agreement, “Do sit down mother,” she invited, gesturing to a chair. Anamari took the offered seat, fanning her
face with her hand, “It is a very hot day,” she commented, accepting the dipper
of water Carmita handed to her. After
her thirst was satisfied, Carmita settled herself with a sigh that indicated sh
didn’t want to move for some time.
“Tell me all about my family,” she
begged, “How are they all doing?”
Anamari smiled, settling herself on
the chair, read for as long a chat as possible, “they are all fine, my dear,”
she answered, “You brother’s children are growing up so fast, and I suspect
there manu be another one the way,” she leant forward in a conspiratorial way,
“But don’t tell anyone because I don’t know for sure myself yet.”
Carmita assured her that she
wouldn’t, and then Anamari continued, “Tis your father I worry about. His is not getting any younger, you know, and
often he is ill. I try to persuade him
to take it easy now that your brothers are working fulltime, but he refuses. Refuses to be useless, I believe, but he’ll
work himself down to his grave.”
Carmita nodded in agreement, but
said nothing. After all, how much more
was there to say? She didn’t belong
there anymore; they were not her immediate family. They were special to her, of course, but her
household took all of her attention.
“And how about you?” Anamari asked,
“Tell me how you have been.”
Carmita shook her head slightly to
clear it of her current train of thought and answered, “We have been well. The
harvest is coming in nicely and strong and Tali is hoping for enough to sell
and save some coins after taxes. It is
proving to be a good year.”
“And yourself,” prompted Anamari
again.
“I have been as well as can be
expected,” Carmita flushed again, but the deep tan of her cheeks didn’t reveal
the fact, “Just tired. And ready.”
“Yes, the last weeks are the
longest,” Anamari agreed, “But definitely worth it.”
Carmita smiled in answer, but her
attention was taken by a sound in the yard. “That sounds like Tali,” she said,
“But it is way too early for him to be home.”
She rose to her feet, and moved to
stand behind the window, where she could see without being seen.
“It is Tali!” she exclaimed, “He’s
walking, so nothing appears to be wrong.
Oh I hope everything is alright.”
Tali opened the door and walked
through, his big frame suddenly making the empty room feel crowded. He nodded a greeting at his wife and her
mother.
“I heard that you had arrived,
Mother,” he said in explanations, “And thought I would take a quick trip in to
say hello. I have to go back in a
minute.”
“Why, that was thoughtful,” Anamari
replied, rising to greet her son-in-law, “I trust you are well.”
“Never better,” Tali said,
“Thankyou,” as Carmita handed him the dipper of water. He drained it in a moment and handed the
dipper back to Carmita.
“Thankyou,” he said again, “Well, I
had best be going. Glad to see you are
in good health.”
“Selah.”
The two women settled back down
after Tali left. “He’s such a
gentleman,” Anamari mused, “Tis a good man you have got yourself Carmita.”
Carmita smiled, her thoughts summing
up her husband. Strong, large and
determined, but very kind, thoughtful and gentle. Just like a gentle giant. She suddenly realised Anamari had said
something to her. She pulled her
attention back and replied, “Sorry, I didn’t hear that. What did you say?”
Anamari made a negative gesture with
her hand, “Just commenting on the good weather for the crops.”
Carmita nodded, “We have had a good
amount of rain when we needed it, and although it is terribly hot and dry now,
it is perfect for drying the oats.”
“It’s looking like a good harvest.”
“Yes – I haven’t been up the past
few day, but last I looked, it appeared to be going well. How is yours?’
“Oh, average I guess. Our climate hasn’t been as perfect for the
oats as yours. We got the rain a few
weeks late, so our oats aren’t ready to harvest yet. However the olive groves are doing well. They thrive on the later rain. So I supposed you can’t have both – but one
or the other, it’s good enough.”
Carmita nodded. She remembered the year when they picked
olives, and the years they harvested oats – but never could she remember a year
when they had a good crop of both.
The sun sunk lower in the west as
the two women chatted on. Suddenly,
Carmita realise how dark it was getting and leapt up to light the fire.
“Tali will be home soon,” she
scolded herself “and there is not even a fire lit.”
“Never worry,” Anamari said, rising
to come to her aid, “I’ll help you out and we’ll get it done in no time at
all.”
Carmita nodded her
appreciation. She turned and patted the
resting bread dough placing onto the baking paddle which she then lowered
cautiously into the fire. It hissed
somewhat before settling down to bake.
Anamari look on, impressed. “That’s
a new way to bake your flat bread, is it not?”
Carmita
nodded, “Tali’s mother gave it to us when we were first married. It is made of iron, and although heavy, beaks
bread quicker than anything else I’ve seen so far.”
“Iron,”
Anamari repeated thoughtfully, “Doesn’t the handle get really hot?”
“Yes,
but I just use a rag. It works
alright.” While they were talking,
Carmita had been cutting up a few solitary vegetable, and Anamari had been
trying top hack a corner of the slab of salted beef that hung from the ceiling
in the corner.
“The
time just before the harvest is always the hardest,” Carmita commented,
glancing into the pot which was not half full.
“Indeed,
Anamari nodded, “The preserves and pickles have been used, the savings are just
about depleted and the garden is not quite ready to be harvested. It is a lean time indeed.”
Carmita
ladled several dipper fulls of water into the pot and Anamari slipped the diced
beef in. Then she moved to hang the pot
over the fireplace to cook.
But
to her surprise, Carmita gestured for her to wait. Carmita went outside to a small hole dug
behind the house, covered with a cloth soaked in water in an attempt to keep
perishable goods. She carefully lifted
out an identical pot.
Carmita
walked slowly back to the house. When
Anamari saw the pot, she lifted an eyebrow, an unspoken question.
“It’s
yesterday’s stew,” Carmita explained, “stew takes too long to cook every meal,
so I make extra, then save some for the next meal. And while we eat, the next lot cooks on the
fire.”
“Very
clever,” Anamari replied, “I wondered why yo put the bread on and then began to
cut up the stew.”
Carmita
only smiled, and strained to lift the pot over the stove. She settled it down with a small grunt. “I am looking forward to being able to life
and move things with east again,” she commented.
“You shouldn’t be doing much lifting
at all,” Anamari scolded, “And now that I am here, be assured that you won’t
be.”
Carmita once again only smiled. She was glad for the help even though she
would have died before admitting it.
“And now, Anamari said, pushing her
point, “You sit down and I’ll set the table.”
Carmita didn’t argue, but sank
gratefully down on the chair, and expressed her thanks.
Tali came home a few minutes later.
“I see she had put you to work already mother,” he teased. Both women were about to protest, then saw
the teasing glint in his eyes and decided to ignore it and let the comment
pass.
_____________________________________________
The next
morning, Tali announced at breakfast that be believed the crop was nearly ripe
and ready for harvest.
“It’s so plentiful this year,” he
enthused, “And because of the extra heat, it is ready a few days early, and the
tax collector won’t be in for another week or so yet. We can harvest some and store it before they
get here.”
Anamari blinked, “Aren’t you
supposed to wait until they count the grain, taking their taxation first?”
“There will be some left,” Tali
reassured her, “But it will only be a poor crop. You know, early rain, intense heat makes a
bad combination for growing Roman crops.” And he nodded conspiratorially.
“Oh,” Anamari said, realising what
Tali meant. She frowned, not agreeing
with the practise, but not being able to condemn it. After all, weren’t her own husband and sons
also trying to bring in an early harvest?
Carmita saw the look on Anamari’s
face and quickly changed the subject.
“It looks like it will be another
hot day,” she ventured.
“Just right for harvesting wheat,”
Tali put in cheerfully.
Carmita rolled her eyes at him, but
could think of no reply. Her attempt to change
the subject had failed – failed miserably.
Anamari chuckled. Sh had, of course, missed none of the
unspoken exchange between the two and was amused by Tali’s deliberate thwarting
of his wife’s plan.
She took up the reins of
conversation, and asked, “What do you plan to do today, Carmi?”
Carmita smiled in recognition of her
childhood pet name before answering, “I think I’ll talk it pretty easy today,
Mother. After the general housework and
gardening is done, I’d like you to meet my friends in town, if that’s fine with
you.”
“No worries. An easy day after a long travel sounds good
to an old woman like me,” Anamari re-joined, her eyes sparkling just a little.
“Well, while you ladies wile away
your hours,” Tali said pushing back his chair and rising, “I’ve got a crop to
harvest.”
Carmita and Anamari soon had the
little house tidy. They swept the dirt
floor, and washed the dishes.
Then they headed out to the garden,
to do some hoeing. The garden was a good
size plot, filled with vegetables, almost ready to harvest. Some had already ripened, but the majority
were sitting quietly, waiting for one or two more days of sun.
Anamari straightened, “You have a
good garden here. It seems to going
well.”
Carmita agreed, “It proves to be a
good year. Plenty of fresh produce,
plenty of grain. We might even make
enough by selling the extras to but a goat, or even a cow.”
“That would be a real blessing,”
Anamari agreed, “Especially with your little one coming soon.
Carmita rose from where she was
kneeling, and brushed the dirt off her knees, “Let’s wash up and go visiting,
shall we? I believe our work here is
done.”
Anamari straightened as well,
glancing at the garden, “Appears that way," she agreed, “Let’s go tidy
ourselves up.”
Together they ambled slowly back to
the house. The splashed their arms and
faces with water, fried them and gathered their shawls. A proper Hebrew woman never went out without her
shawl, even in the summer months.
However, they had thin cotton ones, meant for modesty and not warmth.
Tying the shawl over her head,
Carmita said, “Come on, let’s go.”
But they never did actually go. Tali was soon walking back home, his clothes
filthy, and his head hanging.
“Whatever happened?” Carmita
exclaimed, rushing first to the window and then to the door, fear and shock
clutching at her heart.
They knew soon enough. Tali came through the door, and sank down
onto a chair. Carmita knelt by him, and
held his hands in her own. He flinched
and she notices the burns which covered them.
“Tali, your hands….” She paused, “Oh
no! It wasn’t the...the?”
“…the wheat” he croaked out. Anamari hurried to fill a water dipper, which
he drained thankfully. Able now to walk,
he continued, “The wheat is gone. Burned
to the ground. There is nothing left.”
“Oh no!” Carmita clapped her hand to
her mouth in horror, “What will we do?
DO we have anything left?”
Tali shook his head, his eyes
filling the tears of strong disappointment and despair.
Anamari stood back, tears flooding
her own eyes, her hands clasped together, saying nothing.
But Carmita didn’t cry. She stood, anger filling her soul. “No!” she screamed, “I won’t allow it! We need this harvest! We all do.”
The last sentence was almost a whisper.
“There is nothing you can do, love,”
Tali tried to calm her; “It’s gone.”
But Carmita pushed away ands stormed
outside where she marched up and down in her garden seething with the hurt and
the fear of the unknown.
Anamari made amove to go outside,
but Tali raised his head, “Don’t,” he said softly, but with steel in his voice,
“When she gets upset, she is likely to bit the head off someone who tries to
calm her down. She will come in when
she’s ready.”
Anamari nodded and sat down. But inwardly, she was troubled. She worried about Carmita, firstly because
she shouldn’t be marching around in the heat like that, but more importantly,
she feared Carmita would hold onto her hurt and let it grow within her into
bitterness. And that was something she
knew they didn’t need. She signed, but
Tali took no notice, so she just spoke.
“You can’t let this make either of
you bitter – you need to forgive, forget and move on.”
Tali’s head shot up at her words,
and he just looked at Anamari, “Who is there to forgive? These things just happen. It is the disappointment that Carmi is
struggling with – not bitterness.”
Anamari only shrugged. It was hard to answer, “Maybe. If she lets the disappointment grow it
can. I think she has been out there long
enough – if I were you I’d go out there and talk it through, and bring her back
inside.”
“Then by all means – go.”
“No Tali,” Anamari’s voice was a
forced gentle, “You should go.”
“I can’t,” he said, sharply, turning
his face away, “This is hard for me too, you know.”
Anamari flinched, stung by the
curtness of his words. She had never
known Tali to speak so harshly. “Of
course, I’m sorry Tali,” she said icily, waving her hands to try and convey her
real meaning. When Tali didn’t reply,
she backed slowly away into the privacy of her own room.
Tali hurt when he saw Anamari
disappear. Unlike Carmita, who needed to
be alone, he wanted someone to talk ti out and someone he could lean on. And yet, Anamari had wanted him to be that
pillar of strength to Carmita. He shook
his head woodenly, to try and clear it of thoughts.
Deep down, he knew that Anamari was
right, and that he should go and be Carmita’s strength and support. That he should be the leader of his home, and
his household. But he couldn’t get over
his disappointment and hurt enough to be able to present a brave face to
her. His own needs were too great to
help another.
And he had to figure out how to he
would feed his family, which was about to expand, for the year. The garden was going well enough, Tali
sighed, as the thought of the garden brought him back to thinking about
Carmita, pacing the garden. He really
needed to go to her.
He glanced over at Anamari’s room,
sectioned off from the main room. Maybe
he should go and apologize to her first.
No, he decided, doing what she had said would mean more to her than
apologizing. He got up slowly and
crossed the room. Quickly, he jumped backwards as the door swung open.
Carmita stood, facing him. He made a brief gesture with his hands,
trying to decide what he should say. But
he had no chance. After half a look at
her husband, Carmita brushed past him and entered the house.
Tali started to open his mouth to
say something, but Carmita had turned her back.
He was arrested with doubt. What
should he do?? He didn’t know whether it
was better to leave Carmita to her grief or go over and help her. HE frowned.
His parent had always left each other alone, whether they were grieving
or not. They had set an example of leave
and let be, one that was engraved upon Tali’s mind. However, Anamari seemed to think that it was
his duty as head of the house to be strength and support to his wife. What was
best? He didn’t know, so he muttered
something about the field and left the house, closing the door with a bang that
shook the whole house.
Carmita heard the bang and
jumped. The tears which didn’t come
before now threatened to spill over, but she wouldn’t let them. If Tali didn’t believe she needed comfort, if
he thought that she would be just fine by herself, then she would be, thankyou
very much! She squared her shoulders and
lifted her chin, a cold steel entering her eyes. But beneath her haughty, indifferent air, her
hear was breaking.
She wasn’t crying for the crops, for
the lost work and the lost money. She
wasn’t crying for her baby which would now be born into abject poverty. No, she was crying because Tali didn’t
care. He didn’t check to see if she was
okay, he just didn’t. Carmita slapped
the bread on the baking paddle and slammed it into the first, heedless of the
sparks that flew out on the dirt floor, glowing for a second, and then fizzling
out.
_________________________________________________
It was that night in which Carmita
felt that her baby was coming. At first,
she woke up, restless and uncomfortable, but when she couldn’t go back to
sleep, she realized that now was the time.
She hissed, “Tali! Tali!”
He didn’t stir. Carmita thought of the evening meal, silent
and cold. She hadn’t spoken, Tali looked
tortured and Anamari was troubled. She
hadn’t broken her silence until now, although she’d vowed she’d make Tali pay
for his negligence. But now, with her
childbirth upon her, none of that mattered.
“Tali,” she hissed again, this time
kicking him with her foot, “Wake up.”
Tali moaned and rolled over, “What
is it now?”
“Get up and get Mother,” Carmita
orders, “It’s time.”
“Time for what?” Apparently Tali was
still asleep. Carmita didn’t answer,
knowing that he’d realise soon and make a move.
Sure enough, a minute or so later,
Tali suddenly bolted upright in bed.
“You mean, it’s time?” he exclaimed.
“Yes Tali,” Carmita replied
patiently, “It’s time…now.” She brought
a slight edge of urgency into the word now, as another wave of pain swept
through her.
Tali leaped out of bed, “Don’t go
anywhere,” he babbled, “I’ll go and get your mother. Don’t worry; I’ll be back, just stay….” And
he was gone across the room, and Carmita soon hear him waking up Anamari. She
smiled and closed her eyes. Everything
would be alright, once Anamari was in charge.
The rest of the day passed in a blur
for Carmita. She remembered closing her
eyes, and then remembered the afternoon sun shining in her eyes, and the sharp
pain that just kept coming and coming.
She was unaware of the worried looks which passed between Anamari and
Tali, when he was allowed to step in the room.
She was unaware of the pacing and fervent hoping Tali was doing in her
garden, beating down a path that would remain for years to come. All she knew was the pain which never let up.
Finally, just when the sun dipped
below the horizon, a baby boy was born.
He was small and fragile, and Anamari hurried to wrap him tightly
against the cool breeze now blowing through the window. She had her back to Carmita, and only spun
around when Carmita gave another cry of pain….as a baby girl was also
born. Anamari only just managed to catch
the baby without dropping the other. She
balanced the boy on her knees as she repeated the careful wrapping process that
she had just completed with her grandson.
Jubilant, she place both babies in
Carmita’s arms and Tali, “Come in Tali! Come and see!”
Tali came in on the double, and
stopped short when he saw Carmita and the babies.
“Twins,” he breathed in surprise.
“Yes,” Anamari beamed, “A son and a
daughter.”
Tali moved closes and stroked
Carmita’ face with his hand, and then the babies’ faces with the gentle,
work-worn tip of one finger.
“They are so tiny,” he said in
wonder, “so precious.” Anamari smiled
and then quietly left the room to allow them to enjoy the first few moments
with their children in private.
__________________________________________________
A horrible screaming awoke Anamari
from her sleep. She sat upright, her
heart pounding. Had she dreamt it? Or was it real? She listened for a moment. Then the scream came again, it sounded like
it was coming from the other room.
Carmita! Anamari leapt out of bed
and rushed to where Carmita was holding her infant son.
“He’s not…..breathing!” She cried in terror, as Anamari came rushing
in. Tali was standing helpless, nearby,
fear paralysing him to the ground.
Anamari reached for the boy and checked his heart, staining to hear a
heart-beat, almost imagine she could see the little chest heave up and down
with the deep sleep of a newborn. But
there was nothing.
When Anamari lifted her head, her
eyes were full of tears, “I’m so sorry Carmi,” she choked out, “But he’s gone.”
Carmita reached for her son, holding
him tight and her sobs shook her entire body.
She sank onto the bed weeping and
burrowing her face into the bedding.
Tali stepped outside – being unable to bear the sadness inside the house
and inside his heart at once. In the
still night air, the sadness seemed to follow him, and the tears ran freely
down his face. Anamari quietly took the
body to her room and prepared it for burial.
She saw Tali in the main room, just
coming back inside. Anger filled her and
she marched out, grabbing him by his arm, “Go to her,” she hissed, her eyes
flashing fire, “Don’t you see? She needs
you now, more than ever. Go!”
And she gave him a savage push
towards Carmita’s door. Tali looked
bewildered, but stumbled into the bedroom.
_____________________________________________
The morning clear and bright. IT was going to be another beautiful, hot
day. Anamari awoke from where she’d
fallen asleep in the chai, while keeping watch over the little boy. She saw him now, cold and stiff, and her body
as once again wracked with sobs. Why,
she thought, did it have to be now? Lost
stared them in every direction. They had
lost the crop – why did they have to lose the son as well?
Tali heard her sobbing and came out
to meet her. He placed a hand on her
shoulder, but not words came out. His
eyes too, were fixed on the sight of his small son. Anamari turned when she felt Tali’s
touch. He was fighting for control, his
eyes filling in spite of his efforts, and his teeth clenched to try and prevent
the downpour.
“So it’s true,” he managed to say,
“I had hoped….”
“That it was a dream,” Anamari finished. Tali nodded, his finger gently stroking the
face of his son, losing all control.
Anamari stood there quietly, waiting until his sobs had quietened
somewhat. Then she asked, “How is
Carmita doing?”
“Asleep,” Tali replied, “She hasn’t
cried, she’s just still as stone. She
won’t look at the girl, either.”
“Is she alright?” Anamari asked, her eyes searching Tali’s
face, “The baby, I mean.”
“Yes – Carmi’s caring for her, but
only barely. She wont’ look at her – I
think she is hoping that she’ll wake up and find the son she wanted….and
had.” Here Tali let out another deep
sob.
Anamari nodded wearily. Poor Carmita.
This was so hard on everyone. She
hated to say the next words, but it was necessary. “Tali, you know, we need to
bury the boy, now, before it gets too hot.
And before Carmita awakes.”
Tali nodded, and headed numbly
outside, finding a shovel and started to dig the boy’s grave.
Carmita must have heard the shovel
scraping away at the hard dirt, for soon she woke and cried out in anguish. Anamari hurried and placed a soothing hand on
her daughter’s hot forehead, “You’ll be alright,” she tried to comfort her,
“don’t hold yourself aloof from the pain and the fact. It will only make the healing process
harder.”
“I don’t want to heal,” Carmita
moaned, “I just want my son back.”
“I know. Everyone does. But we cannot reverse the past, and you need
to heal for your daughter’s sake.”
“I don’t need my daughter,” Carmita
sobbed, “But we needed that son. Tali
needed his son – we wanted a boy.”
“God must have known you needed a
girl more at this time in your lives.”
“God?!?” Carmita exploded angrily,
“Don’t mother, just don’t.”
Anamari opened her mouth to retort,
but no words came out. Just then, the
child stirred and wailed. Carmita turned
her head fretfully, “Take her, mother,” she pleaded, “I need to be alone. Please, take her.”
Anamari hesitated, and then took the
little bundle of Carmita’s arms, “Alright.
You have a rest now Carmi,” she said, “I’ll take care of the baby.”
But Carmita said nothing. She had turned her head to the wall, and
ignored Anamari altogether.
Anamari slowly left the room, taking
a good look at the little girl in her arms.
She was an adorable little thing.
Her hair was black, and Anamari was sure her eyes would be too. She looked exactly like Tali, Anamari
thought, and yet around her eyes she bore resemblance to Carmita. The girl stirred and Anamari jiggled her
softly, to calm her back into sleep. The
child needed no extra encouragement; it was her only desire at the moment.
Anamari looked down at the sleeping
baby and wished that she, too, could close her eyes, and shut herself away from
all the pain and heartache she was experiencing, doubly so because her daughter
was hurting too.
Tali came back in, his face pale but
with a calm demeanour. “The…” he
couldn’t bring himself to say the word, “It’s ready.” He finished hoarsely.
Anamari nodded, and handed the girl
to her father. Tali held her gingerly,
but carefully and crooned to her under his breath.
Anamari reached for a wooden crate
which she had found earlier, and carefully and sorrowfully lined it with a
piece of linen, and placed the child in.
Then, suddenly, she was sobbing her
heart out, and she just couldn’t go on.
She just couldn’t. Tali came
running when he heard her sudden outburst.
He took in the situation, and without a word, handed the girl to
Anamari. Carefully, he picked up the
crate and took it outside. Anamari
collapsed on the bed, holding the one they still had close.
__________________________________________
Tali returned several hours
later. He had buried the small crate
with his even smaller son in it, and then had found it necessary to go and seek
solace before returning to the house.
His young shoulders, broad and strong as they were, were not used to
carrying such loads of sorrow and leaderships.
To become head of the house was taking its toll on Tali. He had no strength left. Before the disaster of the crop and the
tragedy of their son, there had been no real need for a strong leader, a head
of the home. He and Carmita had had no
real problems, and the small every-day grievances and issues that came up were
easily settled and put to rest again.
But now, Carmita really needed him to be there, needed him to be strong
in her weakness. Tali was struggling to
be all the Anamari demanded on him – his own grief was too great to bear.
He entered the house to find it
silent and still. Despite the situation
and his deep pain, Tali’s stomach rumbled.
It had been a long time since he had had anything to eat. He put a hand on his stomach, trying to
silence it.
But now that food had crossed his
mind, he realised how hungry he was. And
he thought about Carmita and Anamari.
The also had had nothing to eat.
He looked around the kitchen, trying to locate some food. But there was none. Carmita had been making her bread daily, Tali
knew, and it appeared that they were out of stew.
Tali looked hopelessly at the barrel
which was half full of flour and the small jar of oil which sat next to the
fireplace. He had no idea how to cook,
but he knew someone who did. His hands
dipped into the flour and scooped out several cups. Carefully, he bundled the flour into a bowl,
and headed outside again with it and the oil jar in his hands.
Tali walked down the street, heading
towards their nearest neighbour’s house.
Tali and Carmita’s house stood a little part away from the town, making
their nearest neighbour a good five minute’s walk away.
Tali felt uncomfortable about going
to his particular neighbour. He didn’t
know her very well. She was a widow, so he hadn’t worked with her husband in
the field. However, Carmita had often remarked how kind she was, and appeared
to have a good friendship with her. So
Tali went to her home. He knocked, and
before long, the door was opened.
The woman was an old lady now, her
hair was purled back into a tight knot ,her hands rough from many years of hard
work, “What can I do for you, young man?” she asked kindly.
Tali cleared his throat and tried to
speak without crying, “My name…name is Tali.
I’m Carmita’s husband,” he paused, waiting to see the gleam of
recognition in the woman’s eye before continuing, “Carmita had her babies
yesterday.”
“Babies? You mean there are twins?”
“Yes….but, but the boy didn’t live,”
Tali paused again, swallowing hard.
“Oh I am so sorry,” and her
sorrowful eyes conveyed the depth of her feeling.
“And…” Tali stumbled on, “Carmita
and her mother are taking it pretty hard and…and I can’t cook. So I was hoping you could bake em something
to take up to them. I can pay you,” and
he held up the bowl full of flour.
The woman stepped forward,
“Certainly I can,” she soothed, “You look all done in yourself. Come and sit and rest awhile while I bake.”
Tali accepted her offer gratefully
and entered the cool house. The inside
of the cottage was poorer than their house, and the fire was flickering
weakly. The widow poled at the fire, bringing
the flames up high again. She took the
flour Tali and brought her and began to make a simple dough. For awhile there was silence, then she spoke.
“How are you going?”
Tali looked up at her, surprise in
his eyes, “I’m alright. Carmita is….”
But she interrupted him, “I’m asking
how you are. I remember when my child
died. Everyone was concerned about my
health and well-being, my mother’s health and her well-being, my other
children. But no-one stopped to ask how
the father was. He was just expected to
lead, to guide, to comfort without a thought for his own grief. But gas time passed on, he took longer to
heal, because he had had to sort out himself by himself. No support whatsoever.”
Tali’s eyes filled at her words,
“That’s exactly how I’m feeling. Anamari
is pushing me to be there for Carmita, but I feel I just can’t.”
“You have to be there for her. That is the role of the head of the
house. But you don’t have to be
strong. Carmita most likely doesn’t’ want
someone who is going to ease her out of pain, trying to smooth it over. But she will want someone to share it,
someone who will walk with her every step of the way, to cry when she cries, to
mourn when she mourns and to remember together.
Being there for her is so much more than just being the strong, noble
head of the home. And when you do that,
Tali, you will find that she will be there for you as well. Now, your bread is finished.”
Tali had being leaning forward,
drinking in every word of the widow’s wise speech. Now he leaned back and said softly, “Thankyou
so much. You don’t know how much I
needed that.” His eyes filled again, and
the widow patted his hand.
“It will get easier, I assure you,”
she said.
Tali rose to take his leave. He bundled up the pieces of hot bread,
“Thankyou for this,” he said in a matter-of-fact voice, trying to keep it together,
“You can keep the rest of the flour.”
“The widow bowed her head in
acknowledgement and thanks, and Tali stepped out into the street.
Briskly, he walked back home,
careful not to break the bread he was
holding. As he entered his own
house, everything was just as he had left it.
Anamari was in her room, and Carmita apparently was still asleep. He ladled a dipperful of water into a cup and
headed towards Carmita’s bedroom.
Slowly, he entered, his eyes taking
in the prone figure of his wife. The
room was dark, but as his eyes adjusted, he saw there was no baby with
her. Quickly, trying to ignore that
panic growing in his heart, Tali stepped back out and into Anamari’s room. There, he saw his girl asleep on the
bed. Anamari had her back to the entrance
and never saw nor heard Tali’s quick entering and exiting.
Once his fear and pounding heart had
subsided, Tali returned to Carmita. He
placed one gentle hand on her shoulder, as her face was turned away from the
world.
He sat down on the edge of the
bed. Tali tried to speak, but no words
come out. Instead, only sobs and tears
explained his grief.
Carmita felt rather than heart Tali
enter the room. She smelt the fresh
bread, but her stomach was clenched up hard.
She could eat nothing. She felt
his hand upon her shoulder, felt the bed say as he sat down and
then…..nothing. Ger ears automatically
stained to catch the words she knew she’d hear, “There, there. You’ll get over it, it will get easier. Try to get out of bed – you’ll feel better for
it.” But there was nothing. In the silence, the sounds of one crying
filled her ears. Carmita froze in
surprise. She hadn’t expected Tali to be
crying along with her. In fact, she
hadn’t expected Tali to cry at all.
Without turning her head, or looking at her husband, Carmita slipped her
little hand into his big one, and left it there.
Tali squeezed her hand tightly – the
tears still rolling down his cheeks. He
said nothing.
They stayed like that for a very long time. They weren’t conscience of time passing, they weren’t trying to comfort each other with words; they were simply working through their grief, silently, separately, but together.
They stayed like that for a very long time. They weren’t conscience of time passing, they weren’t trying to comfort each other with words; they were simply working through their grief, silently, separately, but together.
Tali rose to go when he heard
Anamari calling him. He patter Carmita’s
shoulder one more time, and left the plant of food next to the bed. Then, as silently as he had come, he left.
Anamari was holding the baby girl,
now and trying to keep her settled. “She
needs to be fed,” she worried aloud to Tali, “But how will we keep her alive if
Carmita won’t?”
Tali took the fussing baby without a
word and re-entered Carmita’s bedroom.
“Carmi,” he said tentatively, hoping
not to undo all the time they’d just spent together, “She needs to be fed,
Anamari said, will you, please?”
To his great relief, Carmita slowly
rolled over and held her arms out to take the baby.
She held her softly, almost
tenderly. Then she spoke for the first
time to him since screaming out the pain of their son’s death.
“Why do we have this girl? Instead
of the boy that we wanted so badly?”
Tali sighed, his shoulders sagging,
“I don’t know Carmita,” he replied, “But what I do know is that I don’t want
this girl to die too. I couldn’t bear it
if both our children passed on. So
please, take care of her Carmi. Don’t
allow you grief to take over and take the life of this on as well.”
Carmita opened her mouth, then
closed it, then opened it again and retorted, “Are you saying I caused the
death of our boy?”
Tali hastily made a negative gesture
with his hands, “No, of course not. Some
are destined to live, other do not have the breath o f life in them. It was no one’s fault.”
Carmita sighed deeply, before she
replied, her voice soft, “I can’t help but feel it is my fault. I should have done something more….”
“There only thing you can do now,”
Tali gently admonished, “Is to care for our little one here. She still needs you.” Then he turned and left the room. Despite his pain, he was glad that Carmita
had spoken so readily. And doubly
thankful that she was now caring for the child.
__________________________________________________
In time, Carmita again rose to her
daily duties as housewife. Her recovery
from the birthing was longer than usual, but neither Tali nor Anamari felt
inclined to push her.
On the eighth day, Anamari ventured,
“Do you have a name for your child? She
is eight days old, you know.”
Tali looked to Carmita. She was going to do the choosing.
“Yes,” she replied rather shortly,
“I named her Mary, for the sight of her still sends bitter memories of the son I
lost.”
“Oh Carmita,” Anamari pleaded,
“Don’t do that. Listen, for I will tell
you something that I have never before told anyone. My family had been through a really rough
tome when my mother was born. So they
named her Anamari which also means bitter.
Then as I was born, the Romans had just taken over, and I received the
name bitter because of the devesting circumstances around me. But when you were born, Carmita, you were
born into a year of drought. We were
struggling for food, and another mouth to feed, especially a girl, was not a
welcome sight in many eyes. But I loved
you, and named you Carmita, meaning song.
I wanted to break the chains of bitterness and thank God for our
blessings. You were a song, and a joy
everyday you were under my roof, Carmita.
And I’ve never regretted you or your name once. Please, think about it. Your daughter will become a source of joy to
you – naming her thus would only increase your pain.”
Carmita hardened her resolve, “No
Mother. My mind is quite well made
up. Bitter she has made me, and bitter
he name shall remain. So accept her as
she is, Mother. Your granddaughter –
Mary.”
Anamari sat back in her chair
stunned. She felt like she had just been
slapped in the face. Tears gathered, but
she refused to let them fall. Showing
Carmita she had been hurt, Anamari sensed, would only make the problem worse.
‘ Tali also sat still and silent. He had given Carmita a choice in the naming,
so he wasn’t going to back out now, but he didn’t want strife in his household.
Carmita looked from Tali to Anamari,
from Anamari to Tali. She saw their
still faces, the traces of disbelief and pain on Anamari’s, the stunned and
shock on Tali’s. Carmita exploded in
frustration, “Well, what are you all looking like that for! Disappointed in me,
I suppose.” She turned and fled to the
bedroom, slamming the door behind her.
Mary started to cry, and Anamari
picked her up, crooning automatically to her to calm her down.
Tali eventually whispered, so
Carmita would not hear, “What do I do now?”
Anamari sighed deeply, “I don’t know
Tali. I don’t know.”
Tali worked his hands together in
frustration, “She’s just changed so much, Anamari. I don’t know what to do, how to help
her. But she isn’t the woman I know and
love.”
“Yes she is,” Anamari returned, “You
married her for better or worse. This is
about the worst you can get. You have hit
the bottom of your reserves. But tell me
this, Tali, what is at the bottom of yourself and your marriage? Do you hit rock or is there an endless void,
nothing solid at all?”
Tali opened his mouth to answer. And then he closed it again. He didn’t know what to say. Finally, he mumbled, “I don’t know.”
Anamari patted him on the
shoulder. “It is easy to forget to build
a strong foundation when life is going easy.
But in tough times, that’s not the time to start.”
“But how?” Tali queried, “How do I
build it strong?”
“You have to spend time with
Carmita. I know you are both in the same
house, but you really need to spend time with her. Talk about deep issues; discuss where you are
going as a family. And also draw nearer
to God. How many times have you been to
the temple lately?”
Tali didn’t reply at first. When he did, he spoke almost defensively,
“We’ve kept all the rules. We don’t break
them intentionally. And I never had any
extra stock to sacrifice.”
Anamari didn’t say anything. It had always been a touchy subject with Tali
– talking about God, and the last thing they needed was him to get mad, and a
rift to form between them. Instead, she
rose from the table and began to clear the dishes off. Mary had stopped whimpering, and now was
laying on a grass-mat near the table.
Tali sat, watching her quietly. Then he asked again, “What do I do now?”
Anamari sighed, but only quietly so
Tali didn’t hear her. “Draw from
experience, Tali,” she said, “What have you done in the past? What did you see your parents doing? You have to take the initiative and think for
yourself.”
“I don’t have much of an experience
o lean on,” Tali said helplessly, “my parents weren’t really on the best of
speaking terms.”
“When?”
“When I was about twelve, I think,”
Tali answered, speaking with some hesitation, “that’s when I remember it,
anyway.”
“And can you remember anything
significant happening before then?” Anamari pressed her brain ticking. This just might be the link which Tali needed
to see the point which she was trying to make.
Tali went to answer, but a pained
look spread across his face. His
features went white, and he sat weakly down at the table, head in his hands.
“Well?” Anamari insisted.
“When…when I was eleven,” Tali began
in a broken voice, “My elder brother died in an attempt to route the Romans
out.”
Anamari kept her features totally
calm, not letting her feelings spill out. She said quietly, “A beloved son?”
Tali nodded mutely, “A favourite of
my mother. In fact, he was the only one
she had left from her first marriage.”
“And your father? Did he love this son?”
“As his own. But my mother idolized him, and blamed my father
for letting him go to war.”
“And the rift was never healed,”
Anamari finished softly, “Think upon it, Tali.”
Tali didn’t move, nor did he
reply. Anamari distinctly felt she had
pushed the issue far enough and she needed to leave him alone, to think. She finished the dishes, picked up Mary and
headed to the refuge of her bedroom – while Tali wrestled out his hurt. No
wonder he couldn’t help Carmita, Anamari thought, he has issues he needs to deal with first, and perhaps even forgive his
parents. I would never have picked that
Tali, too, was struggling with bitterness.
________________________________________________________
That supper meal was a strange,
silent, awkward meal. Everyone made it
to the table, including Carmita which surprised Anamari greatly.
Tali didn’t look at anyone, merely
ate his food, glancing neither right nor left.
Anamari
tried to make light conversation, but the words were stuck in her throat. One look of Carmita’s still face, and Tali’s
stone one was enough to freeze any attempt at conversation.
Mary fussed, and Carmita picked her
up, silently settled her on her lap. The
sound of that one cry echoed over and over through that quiet room.
As soon as they were finished
eating, Carmita rose and closed herself back into the bedroom. Tali also rose and headed outside.
Anamari alone with the dishes began
to clear up, inwardly praying, “Oh God, what am I to do now? It appears to be a stalemate, and I’m due to
go home at the end of the week, but I can’t leave it like this.”
Her answer came, but not in an
audible voice, not even in a voice which spoke to her quietly – but instead in
waves pf peace which flooded over her soul.
And in her heart, Anamari knew her answer, “Wait.”
She quickly cleaned up and exited to
her room as quietly as possible. She
wanted to be out of the way for when Tali came back. She wanted to leave them alone, whether to
laugh or to cry, to scream or to whisper, they needed the privacy of solitude
to work things out.
___________________________________________________
Anamari heard nothing. She waited, clinging to the word which echoed
in her mind – ‘wait.’ Eventually, as the
night grew dark and the stars twinkled, she fell asleep.
She awoke next morning, a sense of
despair about her. She had waited, but
nothing had happened. Now what was she
going to say to make this broken family begin to heal? Then that ever-growing sense of peace filled
her and she knew she was being impatient.
“Wait,” she murmured to herself. Abraham and Sarah waited nearly one
hundred years; Moses waited forty years, their forefathers four-hundred years
before they were delivered from the Egyptians’ hands. And she wasn’t willing to wait a night! She almost had to laugh – but the situation
was too near her heart for that.
Quietly, she stepped outside. The birds were singing and the wind blew
softly. Anamari looked at the
garden. It was overflowing with ripe
vegetables, ready for the harvest. She
would begin today; hopefully Carmita would be alright without her in the house.
Hurrying back inside, Anamari found
that Tali and Carmita were now up, Carmita setting breakfast on the table, Tali
holding their daughter. He looked up and
smiled, albeit a little shakily, at Anamari, “Good morning,” he said. Anamari nodded in reply. Careful not to look at Carmita so as not to
direct her words that way, she said, “The garden is looing ripe and ready. Thought I might start harvesting today, if that
is okay with you.”
Tali began to answer, but his reply
was cut short by Carmita’s sharp retort. “No, I can do it.”
Anamari opened her mouth and closed
it again, opening it again only to take another mouthful of breakfast. She swallowed and then tried again, “Well, is
there anything else I can help you with today?”
“No,” came the curt rejoinder. Carmita’s words rang in the silence, and Tali
shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He
spoke quietly, but firmly.
“Carmita let your mother help.” Carmita said nothing, but turned a scornful
look on him. But before she could speak,
Tali repeated “Let her help.” Carmita didn’t respond, but then Mary began to
cry, and so she turned her attention to the baby, reaching down to pick her up.
“Fine,” she muttered, “Mother can do
it all.” Anamari turned a pained look
onto Tali, who once again slipped into slice.
The only sounded as the tapping of Carmita’s feet as she rocked Mary
back to sleep. Anamari rose from the
table and headed outside to begin work.
The trees were alive with birds, rejoicing in the early day, the light
filtering through the branches. Anamari
sighted heavily as she deftly started the harvest. Tear trickled down her face as she worked,
eventually making gutters in the dirt that appeared on her cheeks as the day
wore on.
As night fell, Anamari rose and went
indoors. She reached for the water and
soap, cleaning a day’s work off her face.
Then she silently sat down at the table and began to eat the dinner
which Carmita had prepared. The silence
was again deafening, and neither Anamari nor Tali looked up. Hence, no-one saw the steady stream of tears
which fell down Carmita’s face. They
dropped into her stew, but no-one noticed.
Carmita’s food was untouched and her head in her hands, then, as her
grief grew unbearable, she let out a sob.
Tali’s head snapped up at the sound.
He made a move towards her, but then
stopped, not knowing if to go ahead.
Anamari urged him on with a fierce mouthing of the words, “Be
strong.” Then she picked up Mary and
headed to her bedroom, closing the door behind her.
Still, Tali hesitated. He thought over the words which the widow had
said, “You don’t need to be strong – you only need to be there. You need her as much as she needs you.” Tali made no move; he just stood there, the
tears running down his own face. He was surprised,
a few moments later, to feel a small hand in his. Carmita had looked up at the sound of her
husband crying and a love, stronger than the grief which had overcome her,
washed through her heart. Poor Tali, he
had been through so much, first the crops, and then their son, and now she had
turned her back. Carmita whispered
softly, “Oh, I am so sorry, Tali. I have
not been right.”
Tali looked up, his eyes wide as the
impact of her words hit him, “You?” he repeated, “No Carmi, it is all my
fault. Don’t you see? I have failed to be the leader, failed at
being your strength and rock you need. I
couldn’t even o to you when you needed me most I….” and his words trailed off,
his voice becoming too broken with tears to continue.
Carmita said nothing, but only held
both his hands in her. After a long
pause, she said softly, as much to herself as to Tali, “We have both
failed. We both haven’t been who we
should have been. But it is not too late
to begin again, is it?”
Tali raised his head, “No Carmi, I
guess not. But this time, I am going to
do it right.”
“No, Tali,” Carmita corrected, “We are going to do it right.”
_______________________________________________________
The next day, Carmita and Tali set
off on their journey together. They walked many miles and stayed many nights
before reaching their destinations – Jerusalem.
They waited in queue for a long time before finally seeing the high
priest at the temple gates. They were
ushered in and together, they knelt at the altar, giving their offering of
grains. The priest noticed them and gestured
for them to come close.
“Why are you here?” he asked kindly.
“My name is Tali,” Tali replied,
“and this is my wife. We have come to
start afresh our lives with God and with each other.” The priest nodded and gently took Mary from
Carmita’ arms, “This little one will bring great blessing,” he prophesied, “She
will be used by the Lord.”
Tali tightened his grip on Carmita’s
hand, “She already has.”
“Not just to you,” the priest responded,
handing the baby back, “But to all of Israel.”
Then he ushered them onwards, attending to the next who stood behind
them.
Tali and Carmita moved slowly
away. Tali stoked Mary’s face as she lay
in Carmita’s arms, “Whatever could that mean?” he wondered aloud.
Carmita didn’t reply immediately,
but held Mary closer, “I’m sure we will know….one day.”
Tali nodded his agreement, “When the
time is right.”
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