Mr. Manning's Consumation

Thamon almost choked on his tea when Mahmud Al-Sharani showed him the reason for the invitation to his home.

Looking through the camcorder's view screen he saw a bewildered looking American and when Mahmud pushed the start button the cleric watched as the American said "There is no God but Allah and Mohammad is his messenger." Mahmud then turned off the camera and looked his guest, waiting for his response.

Thamon put his tea cup back on the saucer and tried to think of what to say. "You can't be serious" he said to his host.

"He said the words and that is all that is required" Mahmud retorted.

"But what was done to him to make him say the words? That is the question! There is no compulsion in the Faith and you know this!"

Mahmud waved his hand in front of Thamon's face as if he were somehow erasing the statement from the air. "Small details. What is important is that he'll make a fine husband for Laila and they must be married as soon as possible."

"But Mahmud," the cleric pleaded. "You're a rich man with a thriving business, you can afford to keep seven children until Laila can have a proper suitor. What's the rush?"

"I rush because I was a rich man with a thriving business. Ever since the Americans came last year the economy has suffered along with my business. Do you know how much it costs to keep six daughters? Faruzah and I had to try seven times before we could have a son. Now that more money is going out than is coming in, I must take action or there will be nothing left for Tariq to inherit."

"If that is the case, there are plenty of young men who'd thank Allah every day for one of your daughters."

"But none of them have any prospects. If I give one of my daughters to any of them my wife would never forgive me. I'm using the internet to search for some suitable husbands in Turkey or Jordan for my other daughters, but this one is the best prospect for Laila. He's an American, all Americans are rich."

"But he's a foreigner!"

"Laila knows English, she'll fit in wherever she goes."

"You can't compel someone to marry, it's not natural!"

"Daughters get married off all the time and they learn to love their husbands. Why shouldn't that be true with this American? If you're worried about him abusing her I can tell you that will not happen. I have heard that American men let their women boss them around all the time."

"American men also drink, use drugs, and watch pornography. No, I'm sorry but I can't take part in this. Laila is a beautiful girl but it is better that she marry a beggar on the street of Baghdad than some ignorant, faithless westerner. While you may think that because he's said the words he's now a Muslim I say he is still ignorant and faithless. I'm sorry, but this is how it must be."

Mahmud nodded, smiled, then motioned for Thaman to follow him as he got up. The cleric reluctantly followed him to the basement where his host had a large number of storage crates crammed into the room. As the cleric looked around he began to realize how desperate his friend had become.

"Mahmud, what have you been up to?"

"Several people have come across abandoned items and have brought them to me to store for a fee, that's all."

"People? You mean that dog Aazim and that pack of thieves he leads!"

"Those are nothing but rumors. Nothing has been proven."

"Was he the one who took the American for you?"

Again, Mahmud waved his hand. "You need not concern yourself with such things."

Thaman groaned as Mahmud led him to one of the crates. As he opened it, the cleric's mouth dropped as he saw the contents. Inside were three AK-47's, a tea set engraved with intricate gold patterns, and a gold plated toilet seat that shimmered even in the dim lighting of the basement.

Thaman's mouth dropped slightly. "Is that what I think it is?" he asked softly.

Mahmud nodded.

"Did it come from where I think it came from?"

"It's from his fourth palace to the east" Mahmud said softly as if he expected the police were listening. "I liberated it from some American soldiers who stole it from the palace. Do you like it?"

"Well, I. . . its all lovely."

"The rifles would be very handy in light of the rampant lawlessness the Americans have failed to stop." The cleric nodded in agreement.

"It's yours. All of it. Think of it as a gift for all the favors you've done and will continue to do for my family."

Thaman paused for a moment, looking at the toilet seat in all its shimmering glory. He wondered how many times Saddam had used it. All the crate's contents would make a good investment in these uncertain times.

"Would eight o'clock work for you?" he asked.

"I was thinking about a late afternoon service. I've heard of several evening ceremonies being raided by bandits. I want my family to be safe."

Thaman nodded. "Did you want it in your home?"

"Absolutely. It will be a modest ceremony so it won't need any elaborate planning."

"How soon do you want this?"

"They day after tomorrow. Enough time for Aazim to make the American presentable and to bring him here."

"You're letting that thief into your house?"

"He and his men will only be dropping him off. Don't worry."

Thaman nodded again and followed Mahmud up the stairs. "I'm sorry, this is just so unusual" he told his host. "By the way, how has Laila taken the news?"

"Laila is a good girl. She knows her duty as a daughter and a sister. She understands."

Laila looked at her reflection in her mother's mirror, pondering on how this would be her last day as a virgin. She wondered if she would look or seem different afterwards. Naba said it hurt on her wedding night. Qaraah said her husband barely notices her unless he feels amorous. She looked down at the identity card of her future husband, Alec Manning, and wondered if American Muslims were different. Most of all, she wanted to know why she wasn't being allowed to even meet him. She tossed the card down on the dresser and shook her head. "I don't understand."

"What was that?" her mother asked as she laid out the wedding dress on the bed. The white taffeta rustled loudly as she laid it out. Studying it for a moment, Faruzah hoped it would fit Laila. Fatima's daughter was roughly the same size as her so she guessed it would be suitable. Every girl wanted the western style bridal gown and she wasn't going to let her daughter go without one even if she had to provide a hand-me-down from a friend.

"I was just wondering why father would not let me meet him first and would not say who brokered the arrangement."

"Why do you worry about such things girl? Don't you trust your father?"

"Of course. It's just that this is so sudden and strange. How does this American know me? What's he like?"

Her mother came over and patted her on the shoulder. Since she was old enough to speak she was always asking questions. It secretly pleased her mother, it annoyed her teachers, and intimidated the boys. "There, there. It's not your place to ask such things. You should be happy. Doesn't he look handsome?"

She picked up the card again and studied his face. While he didn't have the dark hair or strong features of most of the men she'd seen, his sandy blond hair, brown eyes, and squared chin weren't unattractive. "Do you know anything about him?"

"No" her mother answered as she began sorting through her daughter's clothes for packing. "But I do know American men like small families, and you should be grateful for that. Do you know what having seven babies does to your back?"

"Yes mother, you've told me many times."

"Good. So remember what I taught you about your duties as a wife."

Laila cringed when her mother mentioned that task. The only thing more disturbing than the task itself is picturing her mother performing it on her father. "Are you sure all men enjoy that thing you told me about?"

"Yes, and you must appear as if you enjoy it too."

"Why? He's not doing anything to me."

"Because that's just the way men are. Besides, only sinful women desire such pleasures. Why do you always have to ask so many questions? Now, do you want to keep from having too many babies or not?"

"I only want to have one or two" she responded quietly.

"Good, just remember it's better to be on your knees for five minutes than on your back for two."

"Mother, why did I have to know that about you and father?"

"Because these are the facts of life. Now let's see how this dress looks on you."

Alec sat in the dark blindfolded with his wrists tied wondering how he could have prevented this. He imagined CNN broadcasting some bad photo of him as they told his life story and described how he died. All the girls who had dumped him in college would weep in front of the camera while declaring what a beautiful person he was. When he had applied for Human Aid International as a relief worker the recruiters told him that most of the problems were in the cities and that only U.S. soldiers were being targeted. They had assured him that the Iraqi people would appreciate the work being done by the various aid workers and no harm would come to him. Now he wished he'd studied Arabic more before signing up. He could barely understand his captors or what they were planning for him.

The first day they shoved a video camera in his face and made him recite a phrase in Arabic. Something about Allah and Mohammad that he barely remembered. The phrase was supposed to be significant but he wasn't sure why.

After the incident with the camera they locked him in a basement and only came to feed him or take him to the toilet. Without a window or a watch he couldn't be sure how long they kept him there. It could have been a day or two but it felt like a week.

Finally they came back to his cell. Before he was blindfolded again they gave him an unusually decent change of cloths and told him in broken English to change. He received a grey jacket, a plain white shirt, and grey dress pants. He thought for a moment they might be giving him a change of clothes so he wouldn't look like a hostage when they moved him but dismissed that idea because they'd probably move him in the same van they used to snatch him off the street.

After putting on the blindfold and tying his wrists they guided him outside to the van. The kidnappers warned him to be careful as he stepped into the back of the van, then they shut the door and didn't speak to him again for the entire trip. When they stopped, one said "No move" and left him alone in the van.

As he waited in the dark he wondered why he was left there. Were they preparing the cell? Were they setting up equipment for him to make another statement? Or perhaps they were deciding which one would execute him? He tried to keep that last thought out of his head.

Alec then heard a set of small feet approaching the van, circling around until stopping at the back door. A pair of hands then began banging at the door and he heard a small child's voice. Okay, he thought, I'm not going to be shot. They wouldn't do that in front of a kid. Or, maybe they're just making a pit stop to visit friends and family.

He heard one of the men walk to the van and say something to the child, who then ran away. The man then opened the door, stepped in, and removed Alec's blindfold. After letting his eyes adjust to the light he realized this man wasn't one of the kidnappers. He was middle aged, fat, with graying hair. He smiled at Alec

and motioned for him to get out of the van. He then followed the man to the two-story concrete villa. Aside from the ornate blue designs decorating the front door the entire house was a drab tan color.

Alec followed the man into what he assumed to be the living room which was expansive and decorated with rugs, massive flowering plants, and expensive looking furniture. As he looked around the man brushed off his jacket, untied his wrists, then pointed at him. "No scared" he said.

"Uh, is that an order or a question?" he answered.

"No scared" the man repeated.

"Well. . . uh, me scared, sorry."

"Yes scared?" the man asked.

"Yes" Alec answered.

"No" the man stated. "No scared."

Realizing the conversation could take all day Alec nodded and followed the man to a door on the far end of the living room. Before going in the man pointed at him again and said "Say, 'I acknowledge you belong to me' Then he flashed the pistol hidden under his jacket, presumably as a warning.

Alec didn't understand but he nodded anyway, hoping it would all become clear when he went inside.

It didn't. At the far end of the room was a cleric in his robes. To the left there was another older man, a younger man, and a small boy. An older woman wearing a nearly transparent veil stood to the right of the cleric along with six younger veiled women he assumed were the fat man's daughters. Now he was sure he wouldn't be shot, but that was no comfort to him.

The man behind him nudged him and pointed to the cleric. Manning walked to the front of the cleric and waited. It occurred to him that he whole setup looked a lot like some kind of wedding.

The older man to Alec's left came forward and began some sort of speech in Arabic. He caught a few words like "Accept" and "Mohammad" but that was all. Then the man held out his hand and one of the young women stepped up and took her place beside Alec. Then Alec thought to himself '

Hey, this IS a goddamn wedding!'

For the rest of the ceremony as Thaman read four passages from the Qur'an, while both Alec and Laila stood silently waiting for the service to end. Alec stood in terror and bewilderment. Laila spoke so softly that when reciting her speech Thaman asked her to speak up. Alec had to be nudged by Mahmud to recite his speech.

A the stone-faced couple were escorted to the van the only people with any enthusiasm for the event was Mahmud, who now had one less daughter to support, and Laila's sisters who now had a little more living space.

Mahmud stayed outside after everyone else went in to celebrate, watching as his nephew Aadil chauffeured the silent couple off to consummate their marriage. Thaman joined him as the van faded into nothing more than a wisp of dust in the distance.

"Do you think she'll be safe with the American?" he asked his host.

"Don't worry" Mahmud answered.

"Where is your nephew taking them?"

"My brother has a piece of rental property and has agreed to let them stay there for a week to get to know each other." "What if he sees some American soldiers and calls for help? Your daughter and nephew could get into serious trouble."

"Like I said my friend, don't worry. They're going to a town with no American presence whatsoever."

"Really? Where is that?"

"Falluja."

Thamon paused for a moment realizing the risk his friend has taken with his daughter and new son in-law. "Mahmud, you do know that a mob killed and hung some Americans there a few days ago, don't you?"

"I heard something about that, I don't know the details. Besides, the arrangements have already been made."

"But your daughter could be a widow by tomorrow!"

Mahmud tried to wave away the statement again. "It won't happen. Trust me. Aadil has been told to lock the burglar bars on the house's door so the American can't escape, and we'll let nature take its course. What kind of may can be alone with such a beautiful girl for a week and not give in to his nature?"

Thaman sighed and reminded himself to say an extra prayer for the couple.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

.They weren't the only ones watching the van. Aazim, Jasim, Baber, and Aarif watched the van as it passed them a few miles from Al-Shirani's home. Aazim waited a few minutes then started the old silver Toyota and followed the van. As he tried to concentrate on following the newlyweds Jasim continued to play with his Tokarev in the seat behind him, cocking and un-cocking the pistol. Aazim tried to ignore the racket Jasim was making and focused on the van in front of him. He also tried to ignore how insulted he felt when Al-Shirani told him of his plan to have Laila marry the American, and how he wanted Aazim and his men to perform the kidnapping. After all the work he and his men had done for the failing businessman, Mahmud chose to give his daughter to some westerner he happened to see in the marketplace one day instead of allowing him to propose to Laila. But, despite Al-Shirani's posturing and pretensions about his family's superiority, he would never expect what Aazim was planning.

"Jasim will you stop that, it's dangerous" he said while glancing to him in the rearview mirror.

"Don't worry, the chamber is empty, you're in no danger."

"I don't care! That clicking noise is making me crazy, now stop!"

Aarif turned around and stared directly at Jasim. "Maybe I could just cut off his thumb. That would solve the problem" he said quietly.

Jasim looked into Aarif's cool, steady gaze and immediately un-cocked the pistol for the last time and stuck it inside his waistband. Aarif never let anything bother him. He was never bothered by the traffic jams, he was never bothered by the various shortages in the last ten years, and he was never bothered by the screams for mercy from his victims.

In the awkward silence, Baber decided to speak up. "Why pursue this woman Aazim?" There are plenty of women to be had, just tell them you're with the resistance and you could have any wife you want."

Aazim smirked, "I don't want a wife, I just want a few hours with this one." He remembered all the times Laila had looked at him disapprovingly as he and her father did business in the living room. She, along with the rest of Al-Shirani's family, believed he was beneath them, that they were doing him some sort of favor by even allowing him in their house. Soon, he though, she'd learn just what all her money and so-called privilege is really worth in the real world.

"Don't take too long, I want a turn after you" said Aarif.

"Don't worry" he answered. "We'll all have plenty of time.

"But what about our new duty in the militia" Baber asked. "We need to return to Baghdad and begin our duties against the Americans."

"We can do that after Fallujah."

"Fallujah!?" Baber exclaimed. "They're Sunni! What if they find out we're part of the Mahdi Army?"

"Sadr has been making alliances with several other groups against the Americans. No one will attack us" Aazim groaned.

"Besides," Jasim added, "We can handle them if they try" and he patted his pistol. Aazim and Aarif wouldn't dignify his posturing with a response.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The newlyweds sat across from each other in the back of the van exchanging awkward glances when not looking to their shoes, wondering what to do next.

Laila looked at her groom quietly, wondering why he was sitting across from her and not beside her. Was he shy? Worse, was he like her uncle Ali that no one talks about? She couldn't decide which situation she dreaded most, having to submit to his desires or having no desire for her to submit to.

Alec tried to keep his eyes on his feet, hoping not to send the girl any signals and raise her expectations. He could barely comprehend what had just happened and he certainly couldn't contend with some girl's expectations. He wracked his brain trying to remember what he'd done in the last week that could have led to this. He'd never seen the girl before and had taken great pains to avoid any unnecessary contact with anyone. Yet here he was in a shotgun wedding.

He looked up to the front at the kid driving the van, wondering if he could take him. Even if the kid was armed, he could probably surprise him. But then he remembered that the girl could warn the driver, or they could have an accident in the middle of the desert and end up in a worse situation. Despite his desire to escape, he didn't want to risk getting the girl hurt in the process, or himself for that matter.