Ashoan's Rug - Softcover

Carrie Jane Knowles

Softcover

ISBN 10: 1782791124 ISBN 13: 9781782791126

Publisher: Roundfire, 2013

Synopsis

As it passes from owner to owner, Ashoan's Rug tells the story of how the work of art is not in the creating, but in how the artwork changes lives. A literary magic carpet ride!

About this title

About the Author

Carrie's non-fiction book, The Last Childhood: A Family Story of Alzheimer's, Three Rivers Press 2000, has been noted as one of the top 100 books written about Alzheimer's. Her first novel, Lillian's Garden, was published by Roundfire Books in 2013. Carrie and her husband, Jeff Leiter, live in Raleigh, North Carolina. They have three children.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Ashoan's Rug

By Carrie Jane Knowles

John Hunt Publishing Ltd.

Copyright © 2013 Carrie Jane Knowles
All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-78279-112-6

CHAPTER 1

1894THE RUG

"Seda," Lala sobbed, curling her body into a tight ball as the nextcontraction ripped across her stomach, "something is wrong. Mybaby has been quiet now for two days."

Seda stroked the back of the girl's head with her right handand placed her left hand flat on the side of the girl's big stomach.

"The moon was resting," Seda said. "The baby was restingtoo."

Seda pressed her hand hard against the girl's side to see if thebaby would move. "Breathe with me," Seda commanded whileshe pushed and kneaded the tight belly. "Together we will wakethis baby and help it travel into this world."

Three moons ago, Seda had held two stillborn babies andsung the death song to them, touching their tiny closed eyelids inorder to give them messages to carry to their ancestors in thenext world. They were twin girls who would not have made iteven if they had managed to fall screaming from their mother'sloins. They were just too small to survive.

This baby, however, was big. Seda could feel the broad sole ofits foot push against her hand as she tried to wake it in itsmother's womb. She felt certain it would live, as long as Laladidn't panic and its journey here could be ridden on the lovingsongs of the women waiting to catch it, not the screams of itsanxious mother.

"Is your rug almost finished?" Seda asked Lala. Yesterday shehad seen the girl sitting with the women weaving and hadnoticed her shoulders slumped uncomfortably around her bigstomach as she worked slowly over the pattern of her rug.

"I have the skirt to weave yet, and to tie it off."

"Ashoan will finish it for you," Seda said. She placed herhands on either side of the girl's belly so she could massage itstight expanse. As she worked her fingers she could feel the softcurl of the baby's back along the dark hairline down Lala'sstomach and the large crown of the baby's head pushing downinto the girl's small hips. The baby was turned and ready butthere was no longer any room for it to move.

"This baby is big. He wants to get out and we must help him."

"Too big?" Lala wailed. "So big he will split me open like amelon the way Hasad did his mother?"

Seda closed her eyes so she could concentrate on her hands.Lala had always been a silly girl and now Seda feared she wouldbe an equally silly mother.

"I will call upon our ancestors. We will need their help. It is abig job to go from one world to the next. The baby is resting now.He is preparing himself to come. You must prepare yourself also.Ashoan," Seda called out to her daughter, "it is Lala's time.Gather the women for me."

Ashoan poked her head into her mother's tent. Ashoan was aseason older than Lala, but no one had claimed her for his bride.Her hands were not as quick as the other girls' at weaving, andher right eye and cheek were blemished with a deep purple mark,like the welt a hand might leave on a face if someone slapped it.Ashoan quickly turned her marked cheek away when Lalalooked at her.

"I shall tell them," Ashoan said obediently.

"And, Ashoan," her mother added, "once the women havedrawn the water and the fire is built for the night, you must goand finish Lala's weaving. Be swift. The rug should be cut fromthe loom before the baby's first cry."

Seda knew the omens were not good when babies came onunfinished business. Ashoan had come in the middle of a rug,and Seda had no desire to tempt the Fates so soon after thestillborn twins. It was unclear to Seda whether Ashoan hadrushed to come before the rug was finished and that is whatmarked her face and slowed her hands, or if Seda's own slownessto finish her rug had damaged her baby. These were notquestions any of them could answer.

"It will be done," Ashoan swore to her mother, and she leftthe tent.

While she wove on Lala's rug by the firelight, Ashoan could hearthe women singing through Lala's screams. As the fearfulwailing of Lala rose, the singing of the women climbed as well.Higher and higher the younger women's voices ascended whilethe older ones hummed a low droning call like waves rolling outto sea then crashing against a ragged shore. Ashoan closed hertired eyes and let the music carry her slow fingers across Lala'sdull little rug.

"If this were my rug," Ashoan sang softly as she worked, "Iwould weave into it the red of fire. If this were my rug, thestitches would be tight and straight. If this were my rug it wouldbe beautiful."

Although she was nearly fifteen and more than old enough,Ashoan had not yet been given her own rug to weave. Her handshad been slower than the other girls' at learning the knots, butnow her knots were strong and sure. She had proven herself onher mother's loom. Several months ago her mother had promisedher a rug to weave. But, after the stillborn twins had come, hermother had said they must wait until the smell of death had lefttheir camp and the wind blew fresh again.

As Ashoan worked she listened carefully to the singing of thewomen. Their voices were growing louder, and the pounding,droning cadence shook the earth like a wild galloping horse. Thesound, Ashoan knew, was the baby straining to push its way intothis world. Ashoan begged her hands to move faster, the finethreads of the rug skirt rolling in her fingers, wrapping andknotting their way across the warp on the loom. She knew thebaby must not come before the rug was cut free from the loom.

"If this were my rug," she sang as she worked her hands fromknot to knot, "my husband would not sell it. He would praise mefor its beauty. When I cut it from the loom, the weaving womenwould take hold of its long silken fringe and dance around thefire."

The droning pulsed through the chilled night air. "Al-lah, Al-lah,Al-lah," it seemed to call out beckoning for help to bring thebaby home.

Ashoan worked faster.

"Al-lah, Al-lah," the voices of the old women pulsed andpushed the baby forward. She could hear Lala scream.

"My rug will be beautiful," Ashoan sang to herself, letting herown voice rise a little as she took her sharp knife and twistedeach knotted fringe in order to cut it free in one clean stroke.Twist, cut, twist, cut, her fingers worked their way from one endof the loom to the other.

"Al-lah, Al-lah," came the drone.

When she finished with the bottom fringe, Ashoan stood tocut the rug free from the other end of the loom.

"My rugs will bring me riches," she sang, her body swaying tothe music of the women in the birthing tent. "My husband will beproud."

"EEEEEE-yah!" came the sharp deafening cry from Seda.

"A son!" Ashoan heard her mother call out to the men waitingin the shadows. "Lala, the good wife, gives her husband a son.Hear him cry."

Seda dipped the newborn boy's heels in a pan of cold waterand he cried out, and as he did, Seda quickly cut the cord bindinghim to his mother and the other world. The women who had beenholding Lala's shaking legs began massaging her belly to bringthe afterbirth.

Before Seda had finished her song of life to the baby andwrapped him in a shawl and pushed his searching mouth toLala's small breast, Ashoan was standing at the door of the tentwith the rug rolled in her arms.

"It was cut before he cried," she said, her face beaming.

Seda examined the fine tight knots her daughter had made inLala's poorly woven rug.

"You brought luck to Lala's baby on his journey here andbeauty to her rug. Good work, my daughter."

"The smell of death has been swept from our camp," Ashoansaid boldly.

"The baby cried out strong. He will live."

"The wind blows fresh."

"The wind blows fresh," Seda replied, touching herdaughter's darkened cheek. "Come and sit by the fire with meand let us dream," she said, taking Ashoan's hands. "We haveworked hard tonight, the two of us, to bring this baby safelyhere. We are tired, but not so tired we cannot dream a fine rugfor you."

"It must be more than the tiny saddle-blanket Lala has wovenfor her son."

"A good rug."

"A beautiful rug," Ashoan sang out as she danced towards thefire.

"A beautiful rug," her mother answered. "Come sit."

Obediently, Ashoan sat next to her mother and waited. Hermother pulled her shawl from her shoulders and brought it upover her head like a tent. She crossed her arms over her chest,letting the shawl nearly cover her face.

Ashoan closed her eyes and let the embers of the night firewarm her tired hands and bare feet.

Her mother began to rock and hum. It was not like thepulsing humming of the drones, but instead it was a quiet humlike a far off flapping of great wings. As Seda hummed she lether mind fly over the life of her daughter. She opened her heartto the whispers of the spirits. She kept her face covered becauseshe knew what she saw would bring tears to her eyes. She knewshe would not see a tall strong husband for Ashoan like Lala's.Just as her daughter's face was marked, her life was marked aswell.

Ashoan was getting older. Seda had long since given uphoping some strong young man would come for Ashoan. ForAshoan, it would be an old stooped widower who wished forwarmth at night and a woman who could weave for him and spinwool into gold.

Seda brought her forehead close to her knees as she hummedand rocked her body into a tight ball. Seda feared the mark onAshoan's face would make her husband cruel. She was also awareher daughter's fingers would be sure but slow on the loom andher husband might become impatient with her. Her daughter'slife would surely be harsh. Seda's heart ached for Ashoan'ssimple spirit and her trusting eyes.

Ashoan waited patiently. She knew not to touch her mother orto try to wake her from her song. She too could hear the spiritswhispering in the cool night air.

Ashoan got up twice to bring more dung for the fire. Shecould hear the women singing softly in the tent for Lala's newson. She could hear them weave their story about how strong herbaby was, how quick to find the tit to nurse, how handsome thebaby was, just like his father. She knew they were working whilethey sang, braiding Lala's freshly washed hair. The men on theother side of the fire huddled around Lala's husband, slappinghim on the back telling him how lucky he was to marry abeautiful woman such as Lala who could so soon after hiswedding night bring him a strong screaming son.

Seda hugged her knees as her mind flew. She could see the oldman who would come to take Ashoan from their tribe. His facewas not disfigured, but it held no kindness. He would not look atAshoan when he took his pleasure. He would trade her rugswithout touching them, or without ever singing of their beauty.Only Ashoan would sing for them. Only Ashoan would touchthem with love and care.

The dusky smoke of the dung fire clung to Seda's shawl andstung her covered eyes. She could also see Ashoan's rug. Shereached out, scooped up a handful of sand, brought it to her lipsand kissed it in thanks to the spirit who had come to help her.She threw the sand into the hissing fire. Sparks flew.

Seda quietly lifted her shawl away from her face and let it fallto her shoulders.

"I see a fine rectangular rug with a tight weave. You mustweave it with a hatchlu, a cross within its center to draw thespirits close to you wherever you make your home. This rugshould be big enough to be a door for your tent and keep yourhome warm. But, not so big that you cannot easily roll it up andtie it to your camel."

"Yes," Ashoan said, closing her eyes and imagining thewonderful rug, "I must weave a hatchlu design. A good omen."

Seda smoothed the small patch of sand between her daughterand herself and drew a neat oblong shape in it with her finger.

"A hatchlu with two strong columns of birds flying on eitherside, their wings spread like this."

Seda drew a series of wide opened Vs with her fingers downthe two sides of the rug.

"These wings will carry you over your troubles."

"Troubles cannot harm you if you are carried over them withwings so beautiful," Ashoan proudly announced, her fingerstouching the fine lines her mother had drawn.

"Along the straight line of the hatchlu marking the entrance toyour tent there will be two lines of camels to carry your load."

"Yes," Ashoan whispered, "camels to carry my husband's tentand my loom with me wherever we go."

"And here, you will weave a small mahrib. Not so big asanyone would notice, but a fine delicate design. A secret you willweave into the rug. A place for you to rest your head and pray soAllah can hear your every whispered prayer. You will not have toshout. Allah will hear you. On either side, weave flowers for yourhands. These will soothe your tired fingers at night and bringpeace to your heart on your journeys."

Seda took another handful of sand in thanks for the lovelydesign, kissed it, and threw it on the fire. It was like music to hearthe grains of sand pop and hiss in the quiet of the night. Sedabegan to rock and hum to the dancing snap of the sparks.

"Where will I go?" Ashoan asked, knowing her mother's songhad opened her heart and eyes so she could see into the future.

"The road is not straight, but bends like this," Seda said, herfinger drawing a twisting line around the border of the broadhatchlu design, "but as you travel, I will be with you."

Ashoan touched the sand where her mother had drawn thedesign and breathed in the power of the strong double hatch-marksign her mother had given her to weave into her rugs.

"I will give you my sign to weave, and my mother's as well,"Seda said drawing a border of double facing keys along theoutside of the columns of flying Vs. "Put our signs in all yourrugs and we will always be with you."

"And my sign?" Ashoan asked, anxious to know what hermother saw in her.

Seda folded her arms around her knees once more, closed hereyes, and rocked for a moment in silence. The power she had tosee made her heart break, for she knew the Fates were not alwaysgood or fair. If they were, they would not have given beauty anda fine husband to a silly girl like Lala and marked the likes of herkind daughter.

Seda spit into the fire. It was clear to her the Fates were blind.She rocked some more and sang to herself in the ancient tongueshe kept secret for her dreaming songs. Her voice rose higher asshe cursed the evil Fates because they could not see Ashoandeserved a fine husband like Lala's. She cursed them againbecause they could not see she would be a brave mother andbring her babies easily into this world. And again, she cursedthem a third time because they could not see Ashoan would bean obedient and grateful wife or how, in time, Ashoan's fingerswould get faster and she would be honored among the weaversfor her beautiful work.

The Fates were dumb and blind. They had cursed Ashoan andmade her ugly so the men turned their heads away from herwhen she walked by and the women did not share their secretswith her.

"Your sign is like a tree," Seda said, when her bitter song hadfinished. She put her finger in the sand and drew a stocky treewith two upraised arms reaching to the sky. "Put your trees hereinside the four boxes of the hatchlu cross. They are like orchards.They will bring you shade for weaving and sweet fruit to feedyour family. Weave the trunks strong and straight so they will besure of the ground and the upraised arms sure of the sky. You arelike the tree: slow yet steadfast. You are anchored deep to thisearth, yet always reaching to the heavens. That is your strength.That is your sign. You must never forget."

"And my husband?" Ashoan stared with wonder at themarvelous design her mother had cast for her rug.

"He will come soon," Seda told her truthfully.

"I must begin preparing the wool."

"I have saved a bit of deep red dye. It is my gift to you forhelping to bring Lala's baby safely home. You must put it here,"Seda said, pointing to the broad spread wings of Vs she had firstdrawn.

"To help carry me over my troubles?"

"Yes, my beautiful daughter," Seda whispered, "yes."

CHAPTER 2

1910THE MERCHANT

Akmed was sick of the smell of rotting fruit, excrement, sweatingbodies, and the burnt nauseating aroma of roasting coffee beansswirling all around him like flies in the blasted heat of Istanbul.This had not been a good buying trip, and it had not been a goodday. The late afternoon temperatures had steadily risen fasterthan his small stack of rugs, forcing him to remember once againhow much he hated the bazaar and why he came there onlybecause he had to. He always prayed his business would not takelong. Even one day was too long to spend in the heat and dust ofthe stinking bazaar. He'd already been in Istanbul two weeks andhad little to show for his efforts.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from Ashoan's Rug by Carrie Jane Knowles. Copyright © 2013 Carrie Jane Knowles. Excerpted by permission of John Hunt Publishing Ltd..
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

Edition details

• Publisher: Roundfire
• Publication date: 2013
• Language: English
• ISBN 10: 1782791124
• ISBN 13: 9781782791126
• Binding: Paperback
• Number of pages: 137