Chapter 34 Sullha
SULLHA
Burda knew everyone.
It was one of the advantages of being old and bossy and having worked every rotation in the enclosure over the course of decades. The woman had an internal directory of twelve hundred names, faces, ages, room assignments, and temperaments that was more reliable than any written record.
"Why do you want to know about these two?" Burda had asked.
"I want to make new friends, and those two names popped into my head. I must have known them at some point and forgotten."
Burda had given her the look that said she knew Sullha was lying but wasn't going to press. It was one of the things that Sullha liked about the woman. She was nosy, but not pushy. She'd also told her which dormitories the two were living in.
But it still left the problem of finding an excuse to approach either woman without raising suspicion. Sullha had a few friends, but she wasn't the outgoing type who socialized much.
That would need to change now that Yaaf needed her to organize a mini rebellion.
The kitchen rotation was the answer.
Everyone took turns working in the communal kitchen. The schedule rotated, and the assignments were posted on the board outside the dining hall. All Sullha had to do was check when Asira and Vinnah were scheduled and switch places with someone so she could be there at the same time.
It wasn't difficult. Hillah, the woman who managed the rotations, was happy to accommodate schedule swaps. Sullha told her that she needed to shift her kitchen days to accommodate when Tomek had classes, and Hillah adjusted the roster without asking questions.
Asira's next shift was lunch preparation today, and after some creative swapping, so was Sullha's.
The kitchen was a large, open-sided structure with a corrugated metal roof, concrete counters, and huge pots.
Lunch was usually a rice or grain dish with vegetables and mostly fish, but occasionally they got beef or chicken, and the food was decent because the garden supplemented it with fresh produce.
Sullha arrived early and reported at her station, which was one of the long prep counters. She began washing and chopping vegetables, falling into the familiar rhythm.
Nine other women were working the same shift, and Sullha knew three of them by name and the others by face.
After some inquisitive chitchat, she found out that Asira was the girl working at the far end of the counter.
She was peeling onions with the resigned expression of having been assigned the worst task.
She was young and pretty, delicate was the description that came to Sullha's mind. Dark hair pulled back in a braid, dark eyes, and full lips.
Sullha needed an opening, and the best way to do that in a kitchen full of women was to start a conversation that invited participation.
"Has anyone read the English novel about the family in Hampshire?" Sullha asked. "The one with the grandmother who drinks too much and the granddaughter who runs away to London."
Two women looked up. The rest kept chopping.
"I did," said the woman working the station next to Sullha. "The grandmother was horrible."
Sullha struggled to remember her name. Marva, it popped into her head.
"She was the most interesting character in the book," Sullha said. "The granddaughter was naive."
"She was fifteen. Of course, she was naive."
"She was brave, though," Sullha said. "Running away took courage."
"Running away took stupidity. She ended up sleeping in doorways, was robbed, and got bitten by a stray dog."
Sullha smiled. "She encountered some misfortunes, but she was making her own choices. She was free."
"Her choices were terrible," Marva said.
"Still, they were hers."
Marva gave her a sideways look but didn't retort. The other women who were listening returned to their chopping, pretending that they hadn't heard or hadn't understood the statement that had resonated with them, but they couldn't acknowledge. At least not publicly.
Sullha scraped her chopped cabbage into the large pot and reached for the next vegetable. She glanced down the counter at Asira. Her hands had paused over the onion she was peeling, and there was a brightness in her expression that suggested interest.
"What about you?" Sullha asked, directing the question at Asira with a casualness she hoped didn't sound fake. "Did you read that book?"
Asira shook her head. "I don't really read much. I try, but my mind wanders after a few pages."
"What do you like doing?"
"I draw."
"What kind of things do you draw?"
The brightness in Asira's eyes intensified. It was the look of someone who had been asked about the one thing they loved and didn't get enough chances to talk about.
"People, mostly. Faces. I also draw scenes from my imagination. Places I've never been. Sometimes I draw the garden, or the children playing, but I like making up places the most."
"Imaginary landscapes?"
"Yes. Mountains covered in snow, cities with tall buildings, rivers, rocks, trees, and butterflies. All sorts of things." She smiled shyly. "Magical beings that don't exist."
Sullha liked the girl.
"I'd love to see your drawings," Sullha said.
Asira's eyes widened, turning the size of saucers. "You would?"
"Of course."
"You can come to my room after our shift. My roommates are used to visitors looking at the walls."
"The walls?"
Asira grinned. "You'll see."
"I'll need to bring my son. His classes end before my shift does, and I don't like leaving him with anyone."
"How old is he?"
"Five."
"Bring him. I love children. They're the best audience because they say exactly what they think. Adults don't want to hurt my feelings, but children tell it like it is."
Sullha chuckled. "That's my Tomek. He has no filter."
"Perfect. I'll draw his portrait if he sits still long enough."
"Good luck with that. He has the attention span of a lizard."
"Lizards are very patient when they're basking in the sun, and if you are very quiet. I drew one once. It posed for me for hours. In fact, I thought it was dead, but then it scampered away."
The conversation had been effortless. Asira talked about her art the way Sullha talked about the garden, with passion and authority.
The rest of the lunch shift passed in the routine rhythm of cooking for hundreds. Washing, chopping, stirring, serving. The work was monotonous, but Sullha didn't mind because her mind was busy evaluating what she'd learned about Asira.
Yaaf had asked her to find out if Asira could be trusted, but it wasn't something that could be answered after just one conversation. Still, first impressions mattered, and Sullha's first impression of Asira was good.
The girl hadn't been defeated by this place. There was still a spark in her, and that was the most important observation. The enclosure ground people down, and most women eventually succumbed to the blankness that came from years of captivity and violation.
Asira was still very young, and she talked about her art with a light in her eyes that the enclosure hadn't managed to extinguish. She must be either very resilient or very stubborn or both, and in Sullha's experience, those were the people you could count on.