Aisha

As I have mentioned, I lived and worked in an Eritrean refugee camp for two years, from 1988 - 1990. I finished my two-year stint (US Peace Corps) just as the Gulf War was escalating. It was a tough two years, health and climate wise, but wonderful in so many other ways. I had contracted Typhoid while in training, had Malaria three times while in my village, and I managed to pick up Hepatitis just as I was leaving the camp to return home. I lost sixty pounds while there, eventually weighing far less than I should have. The temperature never dipped below 85, and often crested 110. I had no running water or electricity for most of the tour, and I ate very modestly, usually beans, eggs, and a few vegetables. I spent most of my free time with the kids in the camp, or my two counterparts from Sudan and Somalia. When I needed personal time (often), I walked for miles up and down the shores of the Red Sea looking for seashells to make jewelry for the kids in the camp. It was a simple time with simple pleasures.
One such pleasure was my daily interaction with Aisha. Aisha, her younger sister, and their mother lived in a little shack like the ones pictured above. I had to walk past their home whenever I left the camp or returned. In the thousand or so times I passed by, I don't think I ever missed Aisha. She was always there or nearby.
Aisha was 17, had one dress, and the most beautiful smile I had ever seen. If I had seen her anywhere else, I would have sworn she was a gypsy. She had long, curly hair that fell below her shoulders. She was darker than her sister and mother, almost dusky. Her teeth were brilliantly white, her eyes almost black, and she seemed to hover as she walked. I would have guessed she was 25. I made a large necklace for her, and she wore it constantly (I made one for her mother and sister as well). Each time I walked by, she greeted me and tried to engage me in a curious mix of Arabic and Afar. We never had a prolonged conversation, as her mother was also usually nearby. To tell the truth, I suppose I knew she liked me right away. I just didn't indulge in the possibilities.
I enjoyed the daily interaction with her, but I was careful too. I didn't look into her eyes, as I was positive I could become lost there. She was strong and vulnerable - I was there to help, and I was lonely. I understood clearly how some caregivers crossed that line, understood that when you serve others with issues of your own, things can become confusing. More than once, she tried to get me to go off on some imagined errand with her, but I resisted. It was one time in my life where my ethical sense had complete control of my weak and wounded heart.
Aisha's attention did eventually become a problem for me. Despite the fact that I never acted inappropriately towards or with her, it was becoming apparent to others that she was interested in me. One of these others was Hello, one of my best students in the camp. Hello was by far my favorite person in Yemen! He had a wide smile showcasing two chipped teeth. And yes, his name was Hello. I never got that story.
Hello began mentioning Aisha, and kidding me that she liked me. At first I just dismissed it, vowing to be even more careful with her. I noticed though, that when he talked about her, there was a sadness in his eyes. Finally, I sat him down and told him I had no interest in her, she was far too young and I was not a Muslim. He protested for awhile before admitting he was in love with her. I reassured him that if she liked me, it was just a silly crush she would get over shortly. I then asked him why he had not tried to talk to her, or at least to her mother. He was very shy, and had the additional burden of being a penniless orphan. He did feel better knowing that she wasn't going to run away to America with me, but he also realized that he probably couldn't have her. I really didn't know how to advise him, so I told him to talk to the elders in the camp for advice.
Life returned to normal, I chatted briefly with Aisha each day, and spent more time with Hello and his friends. We were busy finishing the school and doing our extra English lessons. A few months later though, Hello came to me, very excited, almost giddy. I assumed it had something to do with Aisha. He told me that she was "being offered" to some businessman in Aden for marriage, but the arrangement hadn't been finalized. This confused me, as I thought it would be bad news. As he caught his breath, he explained that this meant that Aisha's mother was ready for her to be married, and that anyone could compete for her hand. It was just a small issue of the brideprice....
I knew of the Yemeni custom of a brideprice and corresponding dowry, but I did not know the details. I had heard wildly different stories about the actual expense involved, and I was very curious how Hello thought he could manage a "counter offer." He told me he had saved almost $100 over five years, and the other boys could scrape together nearly as much on his behalf. He was very excited and I didn't have the heart to tell him I thought it was far too low a sum to offer for Aisha. He then asked me if I would talk to Aisha's mother via one of the elders on his behalf. I tried to refuse, as it was my policy to stay out of personal and political issues in the camp (something I learned over a goat, another story, another time). He was so sincere, so hopeful that I eventually agreed.
When Aisha learned I was coming to talk to her mother, she assumed I was coming to ask for her hand. She was very upset when we explained our true purpose. She knew Hello, but I don't think she had ever considered him for marriage. I felt very bad, and was upset that the translators hadn't clarified this before I arrived. The meeting was off to a bad start, and it would get far worse, at least for Hello.
After we had tea from the family's only set of glasses, we began to talk. Aisha's mother understood our purpose, and I didn't get most of the conversation as it was in Afar. I knew when we got to the issue of brideprice though, as she smiled ironically at first, then looked kindly at Hello. She let him know his offer was far lower than that of the businessman from South Aden. Hello was crushed. At that point, I interjected and told her maybe I could help. I offered $1,500 more - the money I had saved over the two years. Hello perked up, but I saw in her face that it was a woefully inadequate offer. She looked at me just as kindly as she had Hello, and I caught the part of her explanation that the existing offer was 20 times ours. Hello was crushed again, I felt foolish and impotent. We lingered for a bit, observing cultural necessities, then left.
Hello was not the same, and Aisha no longer flirted with me. I went out of my way to avoid her and to spend more time with Hello. I tried to explain to him that we all go through this and that I knew how much he was hurting. I went on to guarantee him that only time would help him heal. But I knew it was a lie. I knew what he felt for Aisha, and I knew what the future as an orphan in a refugee camp held for him.
Aisha left shortly thereafter for Aden, and I was preparing to end my tour as a Peace Corps Volunteer. I left Hello my US contact information, and we had fun planning my goodbye party. We bought all the available chickens in the nearby village and had the biggest barbecue the camp had seen. I said goodbye to a hundred people that evening, and spent the last hour with Hello. He assured me he would be ok, and thanked me for my help. We parted promising to keep in touch. I never heard from Hello again. The civil war in Eritrea ended three years later, and I have prayed since that he made his way home, and that he found a woman he could love. I also pray for Aisha.