Free The Pearl that Broke Its Shell by Nadia Hashimi

tilling the most fertile land the family had and they wanted it. They wanted more than the share of crops he sent over from time to time. They wanted it all. Now there was no one in their way. They were taking her home.
    Shekiba thought she would feel nothing but inside, she seethed. No one had thought of her when the house’s contents were thrown outside for trash. The few remaining items that had belonged to her mother, her father, her siblings all tossed aside to make way for something new. Was someone going to move into her home? Shekiba realized part of her was still hoping to return to that home, to live there independently as she had before. But, of course, that would never happen.
    Shekiba found a container and walked into the field. There was much to be harvested. The onion plants had long yellow leaves and had probably dried up about three weeks ago, given their appearance.
    Why haven’t they pulled these onions out? Shekiba thought, and leaned over to get a closer look.
    “Hey, Freidun! Look what she’s doing! Tell her not to touch the onions! They aren’t ready yet! This imbecile is going to ruin our lot!” It was Kaka Sheeragha, the skinniest and laziest of the group.
    The leaves were brittle in her fingertips. She reached at the base and began to pull the bulbs from the earth.
    Almost too late. They’re about to rot. No wonder our food tastes the way it does. God knows what they’re doing with the rest of the crops.
    Kaka Freidun walked over and looked at the three onions she had already unearthed. Shekiba did not turn to look at him. He grunted something and then walked away.
    “You didn’t say anything to her?” Sheeragha yelled out.
    “Enough,” Freidun answered. “They’re ready.”
    Sheeragha looked at his elder brother and bit his tongue. The men returned to the fields and grunted instructions at each other. They kept a distance from Shekiba but watched her from the corners of their eyes. She moved nimbly through the rows, her callused fingers weaving between the stems and yanking with just the amount of force needed to bring the bulb to the surface. She stopped only to readjust her head scarf.
    But when she had finished one square area, the sun was beginning to set and it was time to prepare dinner. Shekiba resumed her post in the kitchen and was dismayed, but not surprised, to see that nothing had been done for the evening dinner. She quickly started a flame and set some water to boil. Khala Zarmina walked past her and peered into the dim room.
    “Oh, there you are! I was just about to boil some rice for dinner but I see that you’re here now. I’ll leave it up to you, then. I just hope you’ll clean your hands well—they’re filthy.”
    Shekiba waited till Zarmina had walked away to let out a heavy sigh. How she wished she would have died on the cold floor of her own home, before her uncles had found her.
    J umaa prayers had just ended. Her uncles were returning home from the small masjid in town.
    “Children, outside. We are speaking with your grandmother,” Kaka Freidun snapped. Shekiba watched her cousins scamper out of the main living room. Kaka Sheeragha looked at her and seemed to be considering something. He followed his brothers into the living room.
    Shekiba pretended to walk back into the kitchen with the clothes she had gathered from the clothesline. Before she reached the kitchen, she stopped and sat on the floor to fold the clothes. From there, she could hear some of what her uncles were saying.
    “We need to settle this debt. Azizullah is losing patience with us. He says he’s waited long enough.”
    “Hmm. What exactly were his demands?”
    “I spoke with him in the village two weeks ago and he told me that he is in need of a wife for his son. He wants one of the girls from this family.”
    “Is that what he said?”
    “Well, he said that there is a debt to settle. And that he was thinking of it more these days because he wants to secure a wife for his