The Molla of Zaminej looked at Ali Genav, who strode over to the casket. Hajj Salem tapped Moslem with his cane and gestured at him to help before taking one corner of the coffin in his hands. They took the coffin into the courtyard of the mosque. The front of the coffin was held by Mergan and Ali Genav, and the back was held by Moslem and Morad. The Molla of Zaminej and Hajj Salem were walking behind the coffin, praying and reciting as they walked.
The cold, silent coffin traversed the empty alleys to its grave. The cold had entered the marrow of their bones. There was no sun. The snow broke beneath their steps. Outside the village, the coldness was even sharper.
They passed the edge of a stream just before reaching the graveyard.
A cold wind was blowing. Ghodrat’s father was standing over the grave leaning on his shovel, his cloak’s edges flapping in the wind. Ghodrat was with him, sitting by the gravestone of Ali Genav’s father. When he saw the casket, he rose and walked forward along with his father, who resembled a broken twig.
Before they reached the group, Ghodrat’s father said, “We’d come to lend a hand, Ali!”
“God give you life. There wasn’t much to do.”
Ghodrat took Mergan’s place under the coffin, and his father put a finger on its side and said, “There’s no God but God himself!”
The water in the stream gave off a pleasant steam in the coldness of the dawn. The water was not very warm, but it was warm enough. They set the casket down beside the running water. The men stood around and Mergan rolled up her sleeves and the bottoms of her pants legs. Ali Genav diverted the stream with a few shovels full of dirt and stones, so as to prevent the water from the corpse-washing from going downstream to the fields. The men turned their backs and sat farther down on the banks of the stream. Mergan and Ali Genav took the corpse out of the casket and set it flat on the stones. She instructed him to fetch the half-broken jug that was submerged in the stream, which he did. Mergan began to remove the shroud and told Ali Genav that there was nothing more for him to do. He joined the other men and sat with his back to the corpse. Sitting beside the Molla, he lit a cigarette.
“Death is truth, my son!”
So as to not be outdone by Hajj Salem, the village Molla said, “And inheritance is just!”
Ali Genav half-smiled as he said, “How am I to repay you for this? Here! Have a smoke. Take one each. You, too, father of Ghodrat. What? You want one, Moslem? Here! One for you as well!”
The village Molla told Moslem, “Don’t look over there, my son!”
Hajj Salem rebuked his son, “You ass! Put your head down!”
Then he looked at Molla of Zaminej and said, “What may we ask God for, Molla?”
It wasn’t always necessary for Mergan to have been trained in something for her to know how to do it. It was often good enough for her to have simply seen it done once. So, there was almost nothing that she could not do. She never was afraid of working, although she had no illusions about it. She never ran from it. Her steadfastness, and her hatred for avoiding work, gave her a strength and a confidence to take on any kind of task. To carry out the ritual of cleansing a corpse — fine! That’s not a difficult job. She could also cut an umbilical cord. She had bitten off the umbilical cord of Abrau with her own teeth. The birth was unexpected, at the break of dawn. Before anyone could be roused to assist her, she had already cut the child’s cord and had tied it. She did it all, from labor to birth. Now, she replaced Mother Genav’s shroud and tied it. Ali Genav came over and they put the corpse back into the casket.
The Molla of Zaminej rose. Hajj Salem was helped by Moslem. They raised the casket on their shoulders again and took it to the grave. Mergan also took on the task of fitting the body in the grave. But first they had to say the funerary prayer. The men took their places behind the Molla, despite Hajj Salem’s desire to do otherwise. Ali Genav didn’t know how to pray, and neither did Morad. Most of them simply moved their lips while Ali Genav wagged his loosely. He was too tired and impatient to take the task to heart. Before the prayer was done, he stepped to one side. Once the prayer was over, he went toward the coffin. Mergan joined him. Mother Genav was not very heavy; in fact, she was light like hay. With two quick motions, she was brought out of the casket and placed into the grave. Mergan came out of the grave. Ali Genav picked up his shovel. Ghodrat’s father also helped. Mergan, Morad, and Ghodrat all used their hands to push the dirt into the grave. It had to be filled to the surface. Hajj Salem and the Molla both withdrew from the graveside. Moslem stood at the edge of the grave looking, with his bulging eyes and an air of confusion, at the body slowly being covered. The filling of the grave was finished before anyone’s forehead was covered by sweat. There was no water on hand. Mergan took the shovel from Ali Genav, filled it with snow a few times, and poured it over the grave, tapping it with the implement. Now their work was done. Ali Genav took a deep breath. A burden was taken off his shoulders. Now he could relax. He filled his lungs with the clean morning air, put his cloak on his shoulders, took his shovel, and followed the others as they left.
“May you have a long life, Ali!”
Ali Genav didn’t know what the proper reply to the Molla’s statement was, so he said, “May God grant you a long life as well!”
Hajj Salem added, “May God give everyone the grace of patience!”
Ali Genav nodded his head and stole a glance at Mergan, who was walking alongside the men with her head lowered. He made his way beside her and said under his breath, “It seems they want something for their prayers, no?”
Mergan said, “You need to give the Molla and Hajj Salem something each. You should probably also offer Ghodrat’s father something …”
“How much for each?”
“You know best.”
Ali Genav put his hand in his jacket pocket and moved over alongside the village Molla. Mergan watched as he slid a bill into his hand, before approaching Hajj Salem, who took the money but also bargained to be able to visit the baths with his son. He kept up his prayers, saying, “May God have mercy on that poor woman. She was good and God-fearing. May light always shine on her grave. No one could match her in her desire for good. I saw her many times give half of her dinner bread to others less fortunate. May she be in heaven with Fatima, the daughter of the Prophet himself!”
“God willing. God willing.”
“From God’s enlightened view, no good deed will be hidden, Ali. Do you know that providing for the washing of this poor creature, my Moslem, is itself a deed that will be rewarded in the hereafter, my brother? He will pray for you. I’ll tell him to also pray for your deceased mother. The prayers of the innocent are always answered. This creature of mine is himself sinless, Ali dear!”
Ali Genav replied, “Very well, tomorrow morning. Both of you come to the baths tomorrow.”
They entered the village. The Molla approached Ali and said, “If there’s to be a mourning ceremony …”
But Ali Genav didn’t listen. Hajj Salem stood on the incline beside the alley and raised his cane in salutation of Ali Genav, saying, “Until tomorrow morning, then! May you stay young and have a long and blessed life!”
He waved his cane in the air and walked away. Moslem followed his father. The Molla also changed direction. Morad said goodbye and Ghodrat’s father looked at Ali Genav, who said, “You also come to the baths, and bring Ghodrat with you.”