Sherin Ahmed - a short biography and bibliography of this KwaZulu-Natal author.

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Currently writing a novel set in the ‘sexy seventies’, Sherin Ahmed is also a social worker and mother. Employed by the eThekwini Municipality, Sherin works in informal settlements and previously disadvantaged communities. With an honours degree in Social Science from the University of Natal she is passionate about children’s and workers’ rights as well as gender and green issues.

Extract

It was the first time in many years that Shariffa’s parents missed their monthly outing. Each month end, bill- paying rituals completed, her father treated the family to the latest Indian movie freshly arrived from Bombay : movies with over-embellished sub plots projected to gullible patrons. They were movies of happy families torn apart by arrogant patriarchal industrialists objecting to their son marrying a working class girl, or villainous landlords exploiting peasants, then raping the hero’s sister; the hero seeking revenge, but not before he has fallen hopelessly in love with the landlord’s sensual daughter.

After the movie, they would emerge, red eyed from sobbing at heart-wrenching drama and such compelling dialogue as to move the hardest of cynics. Then they would go out to lunch at Kapitan’s: Bunny chows for her brothers, chilli bites, puri-patha and tea for her mother and sweet meats for Shariffa. The month end fare was replaced with purchases of chilli bite mixture, Five Roses tea, a large box of Bakers assorted biscuits and sweetmeats from Kapitan’s for Alli’s family’s visit.

From where she was dyeing her father’s hair, Shariffa could see the whirlpool of commotion in the household. Perhaps her arresting beauty could redeem their differences in social class, she thought, as happened in the Indian movies. She hoped that her fair skin, long brown hair, almond shaped light eyes: all features so prized by some Indian mothers-in-law could compensate for her family’s simplicity. The tremor of excitement she felt was dulled only by her rising nervousness of their appraisal.

“Sherry, where you? When I told this girl to get ready? Just now they’ll be here,” said Shariffa’s mother.

“Your mother’s right, Shariffa. Don’t know when you’ll get a proposal like this again, so if I were you, I’d doll up quick, quick and be ready to meet them at the door,” advised Lily.

“No Lilia, she can’t meet them at the door! In our custom, the girl will appear forward if she does. They only get to see her when she serves the tea to them. If they like her they will give her a piece of gold, something like a bangle or neck chain....then we say it’s a sealed deal,”explained Aunty Maymoona.

“Come, you can leave your father’s hair now. He mustn’t carry on like the proposal’s for him!” teased Lily.

Lily tasted one of the chilli bites. “Mmmm! Shariffa. Very nice. Hope Alli’s chilli is as hot as these.”

“Sis, Lilia, don’t embarrass the girl. Here, Mona lent some nice, gold colour cups and saucers,” said Shariffa’s mother handing the gaudy floral and gold crockery.

A few minutes later a car hooted. Aunty Maymooona and Lily took their positions like sentries at their lookout posts. Shariffa remained in the room. The other bedroom was cleared of some of its contents and converted miraculously into a lounge: a few borrowed occasional chairs, a new candle-wick bedspread for the studio-couch, new linoleum for the floor. The plastic roses were washed and the mealie-meal in the vase in which they had stood for several years, was changed. The grand refurbishment had continued late into the previous night.

Aunty Maymoona gave a commentary on the developments outside as Ally’s father’s Mercedes rolled into the backyard. Shariffa rushed to peep from the window. She watched as a woman in the party turned a derisive lip while she scraped chicken droppings off her stiletto heels. She watched in horror as the generally placid dog suddenly turn into a barking, whirling dervish and darted for Alli! Shariffa screamed, “Aunty Maymoona! Tell them to hold the dog, the dog!.”

Alli was accompanied by his parents, his sisters, two paternal aunts, his grandmother and a friend. He was clearly very self conscious. Aunty Maymoona met them on the stairway and led the women into the ‘lounge.’ Shariffa’s father ushered the men toward the stoep. Stilted conversation ensued after introductions were made by the two most talkative people in the room: Aunty Maymoona and Alli’s grandmother. Alli’s sisters joined Shariffa in the room. This gave the older women an opportunity to begin delving into the more important business of each family’s backgrounds.

“So Khan-saab is Alli’s big-father!”

“He is!,” replied the woman.

“I knew him well...in fact I regularly shopped there when I was still doing dressmaking... small world!” said Aunty Maymoona. The women covered an incredible miscellany of topics in a short time.

Shariffa then emerged from the kitchen bearing a tea tray and set it before the guests. There was hushed silence. She looked bashful but resplendent in a jade green Punjabi outfit that accentuated the light in her eyes. The scarf covering her hair was draped just sufficiently to show off its length.

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