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Entry 2 -- Sister Hājar

Sido,

May the peace, mercy, and blessings of Allah be upon you. Our day
comes at hand. Hawwa leads us well; may Allah be pleased with her.
My love to you.

We came aboard the Oleander only two cycles past and already
I know my path is righteous. My sisters radiate joy at our
mission. I wake each day and shout, "Ma Sha' Allah!" Our bread
tastes of honey, Baba. Please do not worry for me.

I've know this path was from Allah from the beginning, from the
days in the krem refinery on Misha. We had nothing but each other
and still they came to take from us, to beat us, to kill us. I saw
my path in the face of that boy, Uzāir, at the well. Do you
remember him, Sido? Do you remember that day?

It was hot. They were all hot, but I remember the heat
that day as special. It was late morning, just before first rest.
I was with the women at the well-queue, ready to gather for
washing. You had a cycle nearby you were tinkering with. I think
it was the baker's--or Samir, that boy that was always following
you. You had hoisted it up on a lifter and it was spinning in the
sun, dust blowing all around. Anyway--

Uzāir was a runner, just a bit older than me. His brothers had all
gone to ship and he was next, it was known. You remember him now?
Always scowling at things to make him seem tough, but he was just
a llenora in the den, mewling and soft. The women would laugh at
his act and shoo him away. I can still hear Sara's taunts in my
mind and laugh. You remember how funny she was.

We were in the queue when Uzāir walked up, straight to the well.
Sara was already opening her mouth to unleash her special
blessings when she was struck dumb. Not just her. The whole square
went quiet. I looked to see--I remember that cycle drifting in
circles and you looking to the well with, Yes!, it was Samir, his
smock covered in oil and krem. I saw you both squinting and then
flinch before I heard the sounds.

They had Uzāir on the ground already by the time I looked. He had
gone to stop them from taking the women, from taking me and Sara
and the others. Brave little coward, Uzāir. He put on his scowl
and stood up to them before we even noticed the danger. And he did
it, Sido! That idiot boy lying there on the ground as they beat
him, tore at him, ripped him apart. His blood leeching into our
dirt. His skull cracked, his mind and soul and--to Allah we belong
and to Him is our return.

He saved us that day through his own suffering and sacrifice.
Allah granted me days more on these worlds, with you and with my
sisters. Those days were with purpose, Sido. We go to that purpose
now. My suffering will be short compared to that boy's. My
sacrifice small. It is the sacrifice of a woman without worth to
our people but spirit and love. I give them back to you, to all of
you. My life will not buy days for a few women at a well, but for
all of you on our worlds, from Misha to Doon. They will feel what
it is like to be torn apart. Let their blood feed the soil.

Do not worry for me, Sido. Do not mourn. We are at peace.

Aathama allahu ajrakom,
Amat al-Masih

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