Nazirli Kamran

The Shadow of Fifty Years

Translated and editted by the Author

“Where have you put my trousers?”

Firing with anger the old man yelled at his wife while still continuing his search in the shelves of the wardrobe in the bedroom. Then as if blaming himself he mumbled: “Well, I couldn’t set up any rule in this house for fifty years!”

The old woman, who had hardly noticeable wrinkles in her forehead and face and who looked so soft that as if she was ambitious to melt the freeze of her old age with the warmth of her heart and face, stepped to the bedroom slowly. Her steps were also smooth. Her voice and words haven’t lost yet their tone and meaning and could save their softness and politeness for all these fifty years that she had been married and spent her life with this man in this house. Moreover, she humbly stood her husband’s countless quirks and sometimes even insults.  Not every woman could stand it. Only a noble woman like Massmakhanum, could make it through these fifty years.

            She answered with her gentle and weak voice:

            “ Hajaga, why you are getting angry for nothing? Don’t you know that I gave them to the laundry the day before yesterday?”

            She looked at the bedroom where everything was upside-down after her husband’s search for trousers and stretched the old, brown trousers in her hand to him: “Why not to put on these, you spilled oil on the others and I gave them to clean.”

            The man threw a very angry look at his wife, then grabbed the frayed trousers, and again yelled:

            “Azz,[1] I have been telling you this for fifty years, don’t touch my things, don’t take anything without my permission? Azz, you must be very dumb, if you don’t understand.”

            “But I… Hajaga, honey…  Did I do anything wrong?  There was a spot on them and I gave them to the laundry. But, why you feel so attached to those old trousers I don’t know.”

            “ Azz, I have told you thousands times not to interfere with my affairs. Damn you, …! They are my trousers and it is my problem not yours!” The old man raised his voice again.

            Massmakhanum didn’t say anything  (why not, she has kept silence almost for fifty years).

The first years of their marriage Hajaga behaved almost as a gentleman.  He fulfilled every of her desire. After their first and last child, Husseynaga, was born, her husband changed a little. For some time they were deeply involved with their child, but then little by little Hajaga became absorbed by his job and almost forgot about his wife and child. He worked day and night and once he got promoted to the position of party secretary[2] in a big factory. After that he didn’t know how his son grew up; with whom he communicated and with whom he didn’t talk, who was his girl friend and who was not. And one fine day they found a bride in their house and Hajaga decided to play a wedding party for his son only in the house. The reason was simple: party did not allow to play a fancy wedding party in the restaurant[3]. After the wedding party the newlywed went to Europe because the bride wanted it so. Massmakhanum heard several times her bride saying that in Europe people respect family, women and rules more:

            “I can’t live with the father-in-law’s rules, especially share the same house with someone like Hajaga who is as authoritarian as Stalin.”

            Hajaga worked at the factory as a party secretary and he devoted himself to this organization so much that he hardly spent any time with his wife and son. He always opened his mouth with the words “” The party doesn’t recommend that… or the party recommends that…” Even when he played a wedding party for his son he told everyone that the party wouldn’t permit to have big celebrations, that is why, he arranged a small party for his only son in his house. (The Party was everything for him: family, house, father, mother, money, and position…)

Well, Hajaga always was like that. When he got angry he lost control over himself.  But this was only the half of the problem.The other half of the problem  was that  he entered the youths’ bedroom whenever he wanted and began to disorder the things, or move  the wardrobe, beds, mirror as he liked. In general he never changed the place of the things in the house. Even the suit on him was twenty years old. He bought it when he was the party secretary at the factory.  He pampered this suit so that as if it was golden or was some kind of antique.

Soviet power collapsed, and party had also gone away, but nobody could change Hajaga. And nobody could make him change his suit either. You might think that he didn’t have money but it was not true. He always had enough wealth.  He was just afraid of any kind of change or seeing something new in the house and if you said or remarked something to him he would get angry so much that at the end Massmakhanum would again be guilty. The bride couldn’t stand it and went to Europe together with her husband. They never returned to Baku. Only sometimes Husseynaga called home and for these fifteen years Hajaga and Masmakhanum had got two grandchildren. Last night Husseynaga called his daddy and said that they were going to come to Baku tomorrow with the whole family. This morning Hajaga wanted to wear his favorite suit and meet his son’s family.

Massmakhanum could not sleep the whole night. She wanted to call all their relatives and invite to their house. She even thought to arrange a good party for everyone. Now she was thinking that Hajaga destroyed all her plans: “And here is the party for you. As if he had some nightmare.”  Hajaga again shouted at his wife:

“Azz, did you also take the jacket to the laundry?” 

“Yees”

“Yes? Why? Damn you all! What am I going to wear now, bitch! Fool’s  daughter! ”

“Haji,  calm down, don’t curse  my father... I never curse  yours ...”

“Don’t name my father. I’ll beat you so that you’ll forget your name”

His eyes were almost about to pop and fall to the parquet.

            Suddenly Massmakhanum turned back and stepped towards the kitchen. She sat at the window that opened to the yard. She stared at one point. Nobody could guess  what she was thinking at that moment. But her husband’s voice still sounded in her ears. She hardly distinguished the words. All of a sudden dead silence appeared in the house. Maybe both of them were daydreaming. Maybe they talked to each other in their daydreams:

            The woman:

            “Hajaga, the older you get the worse you are!”

            The man:

            “You think you get any better ?”

            The woman:

            “I have taken care of you for fifty years, have always been a good wife for you, listened to you...”

            The man:

            “What should I do now, huh? Come and climb to my shoulders and I will carry you on them. I also served to the government for fifty years, do you think anyone remembers my name now?”

The woman:

            “Haji[4], you should  have taken care of, first, your family, then...”

            The man:

            “Huh, look  who is teaching me? A womann”

The woman:

“When we got married we promised to love each other till death, did you  forget?”        

The man:

‘”Your head is  full of all kind of rubbish. Azz, you are eighty now, what the hell are you talking about love?

The woman:

“Then everything is false in this life, right? I lived with the shadow, huh?”

The man:

“What? With Shadow? You lived with a man! Man! Whose trousers you gave to the laundry, you see?

The woman:

“No, Hajaga, I really lived with the shadow”

The man:

“What do you want? To get divorced? Go, the doors are open...”

The woman:

“And I may go! I am tired of... But what will people say?”

The man:

“You, woman, light-minded... When you got married did you consult people?

The woman:

“Well, let Hussu[5] come I will complain to him. You hurt me in my old age, Hajaga!.. ”

There were five rooms in the house. Hajaga had a  separate bedroom. As I mentioned before, this room was in complete disorder now. An old, unpainted wardrobe had its doors open and once tidely folded clothes were on  the floor. The old man turned almost everything here upside-down because of his worn trousers. There wasn’t any trace left from her wife’s neatness in other rooms either. Hajaga searched also the woman’s room paying no attention to her opinion. In the middle of his search his frustration made him even take the tea glasses off fire-place and throw them to the yard.

Only the kitchen seemed to have kept its usual cleanness. Everything here was in its place. This place kept Massmakhanum alive for almost fifty years. Massmakhanum cooked here everyday, made the  tastiest  food in the world to  feed her husband. And this is the end... Are all men  like him? They don’t value anything like him? Maybe all men become unbearable when they are in Hajaga’s age? What do you call the relationship built on between wife and husband for years, not for years, for total of fifty years? This relationship  deepened slowly, and what happened at the end? Was this relationship  based on  love and  mutual desire? Supposed it was not for love. Supposed  it was just an arranged marriage- they got married because their fathers knew each other very well.  But what does it mean for the relationship between a woman and a man, between a wife and husband? And where is that written that once you got married you should live together even for fifty years; do the same things and hear the same things every single day?  For God’s sake, one can get crazy! Maybe Hajaga is bored with Massmakhanum? Maybe it is Massmakhanum who is bored? Who invented this life-long  dependency on each other? No, Haji, no! This is not God’s will! Has it been easy to be your wife for fifty years? I sacrificed with my beauty, with my soul! Fifty years of my life melted away. Fifty years of my life was spent in this kitchen. The only way from this kitchen led to your wet smelled bed room. Months after months, years after years and here it is, most of my life is behind now.This is a very dangerous shadow, my God! This is the Hell’s shadow, following me for fifty years, like a poisoned snake. This snake would sting me whenever it wanted, or rolle around my neck and squeeze it until my eyes pop out...Then it would free me slowly and I would say: thank God, I again survived and I am alive.

These mixed thoughts suddenly turned to the prays that would smooth a believer’s  soul. The woman turned her big, still bright  eyes to the skys, which were as blew as the sea in summer time and whispered: “My God, give him a little mercy, keep us together  in peace.”

The ring on the door frightened her. She quickly stood and saw Hajaga running to the door in his pijamas and saying: “Thank  God, at last, they are here ...”

 Husseynaga, his wife and children entered the house as the door was opened. Massmakhanum didn’t know whom to greet the first and whom to hug. She was very excited. Hajaga was astonished. He couldn’t even recognize his son, his bride and grandchildren. At last one of the grandchildren said;

“Mummy, is he my grandpa?“

“Yes, honey”

“Grandpa, this is a gift for you....”

One of the grandchildren, teenager with long hair in jeans gave the package to his grandfather. The old man took the package, turned to his son, and asked:

“Ala[6], what language is he speaking?”

“Daddy, don’t pay attention, both Roma and Nency go to an English school, that’s why they speak English. We try to make them speak our language, but all in vain. Maybe If they stay here a little longer, they will learn. They are smart, I am sure they can learn.”

“Ay mashallah[7]”, said Hajaga.

He didn’t say anything else and went to his bedroom with the package in his hand.

Massmakhanum was observing her bride and grandchildren going from the kitchen  to the dining-room, and from there elsewhere with their shoes on[8]. She didn’t know what to do while her son and his wife discussed something sipping beer from the bottle. What else could she do? She hasn’t seen such indifference attitude from anyone, even from Hajaga.  She felt some kind of unbearable pain inside her. The bride was suggesting that they move into the hotel because the rooms were too small for them:

“These are the same rooms, which we left fifteen years ago. Hajaga has not changed anything. Kids need separate rooms. No, I can’t stay here.” While his wife kept on, Husseynaga nodded indifferently.

She took a deep puff at the cigarette that she kept between her two long and thin fingers. Massmakhanum queitly went to the kitchen and took her seat at the window.  Her eyes were full of tears.

The door of the bedroom opened. Hajaga came in in his new suit and stood in front of his son and bride.

“Well, what do you say, am I looking like a gentlemen now?”-he asked

“Oh, bravo, bravo...”  Everyone, except Massmakhanum, applauded him. It seemed like Hajaga hadn’t been applauded like this for fifteen years.

“At last, we managed to change you!” said the bride pointing to the new suit on him. Hajaga felt even more courageous:

“Azz, Massamakhanum, come up here, look, am I looking like a man or not? Your father has not even seen this type of suit, never...”

The bride bursted into laughter puffing her cigarette once more. Massmakhanum didn’t move and  for the first time in her life she dared to answer her husband with sarcasm:

“Yes, you are just looking like a man, my shadow!”

2005.