Apr 29, 2003
The misunderstanding.
Once? In Dakhla, X and I met a 9-year-old girl by the side of the road who was so striking that he dared risk the Evil Eye and told the girl's family she was beautiful. "Come back this afternoon for tea," they said. "We'll have her ready for you."
They knew he was already married. In fact that's all they knew about him. But he was from Cairo, a man with means enough to travel, and they must have recognized his compliment as an opportunity. So she'd be a child bride, the second wife to a stranger, but the link to the city would be solidified and the dowry would be enormous.
He agreed to the meeting and then we laid low in another part of town for a day or two, as was right and proper. He couldn't cast doubt on their intentions with their own daughter. His "she's much too young" would be interpreted as "she's beautiful but not beautiful enough to marry"; his "I don't believe in polygamy" would become "I won't share my good fortune with a family such as yours." Better to let them think he'd been unavoidably detained than to reject the proposal outright.
I can still picture her in her long red dress. The age my daughter is now.
The little girl with big black eyes who could have been my co-wife.
