Al Qaeda leaders in Iraq's Anbar province have imposed a prohibition on women buying cucumbers, deemed too suggestive of male anatomy--The New Republic
Being married to an Al Qaeda operative is most demanding. There are many dos and don'ts and lately, according to my husband Fawwaz, I am always doing a don't. These days he is more obsessed than ever with acquiring a dirty bomb. I have told him (for reasons of hygiene) that if he ever finds one, I do not want it in the house. Monday morning he burst in angrily, his face as red as a radish, and demanded, "Where is my surface-to-air missle launcher?" I told him: "Right next to the bed where you left it this morning. Why do you ask?" "Because, woman, I want to shoot down that unmanned drone above us whose low hum is driving me crazy."
Here I am, trapped at home day after day with the sound of unmanned drones constantly in the background, and Fawwaz claims it irritates him. Anyway, he will never be able to bring it down (he can't even see it and thus always misses).
At lunch that day, Fawwaz saw me peeling a cucumber and his face darkened. "Where did you get that?" he asked angrily. "The same place I get everything in our village of 46: the bazaar." "You are never to buy another cucumber," he erupted. "But Fawwaz, you love cucumbers." "I may love cucumbers, but I have a profound aversion to your buying them."
I married a man who speaks in riddles. I said, "I have two questions for you: What is meant by 'profound,' and what is meant by 'aversion'?" Enraged, he stared at me for a full minute. "You know the population of our village, but do not know these two simple words?" "I was forbidden from attending school, Fawwaz. Do not expect me to possess an impressive vocabulary." He then thundered, "Women are subordinate to men and cucumbers are subordinate to women." Ah, finally there is something subordinate to me in my culture!
Tuesday, more anger at lunch: "Where did you buy these carrots?" "Fawwaz," I responded, "if you want to know where I've purchased something, the answer will be the bazaar. Until, of course, we decide to move back to Karachi." "No carrots," he bellowed. "And no cucumbers." Obviously, Fawwaz has has not spent much time in the bazaar or he would realize that he's vastly restricting our diet.
Wednesday brought wrath like no other: "Woman, is this a sausage I see before me? Have you forgotten we eat no pork?" I informed Fawwaz that this was a newly available, low-calorie chicken sausage. "And you handle it freely?" he glared. "Yes, Fawwaz, do you expect it to find its own way to the pan?"
Fawwaz and his associates may have located a dirty bomb. I'm happy for him, but wish he hadn't thrown a tirade during yesterday's breakfast. "You no longer care for bananas, Fawwaz?" He sat in stony silence, then said,"I do not want my wife to buy bananas." "Are you suggesting I steal them?" "What I require from you," he announced, "is silence."
On Saturday, Fawwaz declared he had to travel to South Waziristan. "No wonder you've been grumpy," I teased. "Where will you sleep?" "In a cave," he answered. (What else is new?) "At least let me offer you something for the journey, perhaps a sandwich." "A sandwich is a symbol of Western decadence," Fawawz intoned. "Then just some bread and cheese?" I offered. He nodded his assent.
As he adjusted his turban, preparing for the journey to South Waziristan, I brought out his food. "What in the name of Allah is this?" he shrieked. I was distraught: "Don't tell me you're off cheese now." "Not the cheese, this blasphemy here on the table. What is it?" "It is bread," I stated simply. "In the shape of a serpent?" "Yes, Fawwaz, it is called a baguette. Apparently they're eaten in France." "Since when is that a recommendation?" he screamed, raising the baguette and striking me with it.
All is still now. I lie on the floor, the bent baguette beside me. I hear only the hum of an unmanned drone, which I actually find comforting. Eleven days without Fawwaz: I will not miss bathing his feet and then drinking his bathwater. In fact, I resolve to try Sprite. And to host a Ladies' Night here for Adara, Basmah, Firyal and the others. When they ask what they can bring, I won't hesitate to answer: zucchini.
