Change of Station

Over the teacups in 1959,
Young officers' wives,
We met monthly in tutorial support.
There was a saying with raised eyebrows and a shrug
"North Africa's so lovely this time of year."
We had an airbase in Lybia then.
Like Saudi today where you live in a compound
Never go out without your husband or a male
Only men can drive
On a visit your male driver waits in the car;
You can't leave the compound
With an uncovered head.
Better to not go out at all.
Over the teacups in 1959
Someone was being assigned to Minot
Where you didn't let the kids run outside
For fear of frosting their lungs
Children played in winter basements,
Medics doled out sleeping pills stingily to wives
Knowing the Statistics
On the effects of isolation and depression.
Someone murmured with a wry smile,
"North Africa's so lovely this time of year,"
We got the point:  it could be worse.

Next year a story went around
The men whispered first, then pillow talk;
This won't be in the papers, they said,
Not the details; hushed up.  Yet things get out.
Onc night in North Africa
Longing for company, countrymen,
He said to her
"Let's go the the club."
It's just a little drive to the base
Across the desert.
A deserted road and coming on dark
Up ahead he spotted the roadblock,
Men with guns gesturing for him to stop
We didn't have much air conditioning in the fifties
He didn't have to roll the window down
As he slowed to a stop.
It's probably nothing
He said tensely
But he left the car in Drive
And rested one foot on the gas
As he braked with the other.

He had just turned to the window
When there was the explosion
She was instantly covered with wet spatter
Blood and brains and skull fragments
His boot slipped from the brake
His hands still gripping the wheel
The car sprang forward, startling them
She reached over
Her left foot on top of his right foot
Her hands against his on the wheel
She stamped on the gas
As the car bounced and followed its headlights
On the strip of asphalt across the desert
They were too shocked to move:
A headless man driving
So fast away from them
She drove without screaming or stopping
Until she reached the gates of the base.
Nobody knew her name
But word of mouth gets out.

Over the teacups in 1960
We looked at each other and wondered
Could I do that
My husband drove me to the club
I measured the distance from my left foot
To his foot on the gas
Looking at his strong capable hands on the wheel.

Alone in my house in 2008
All the teacups are put away now
Reading an article, news from Iraq,
Because of the Shiite tribal security forces
In what was secular Bagdad
Professional women are discouraged from driving,
Threatened to cover their hair now and asked,
Where is your husband?
On TV, the list, American faces so like my sons.
North Africa is so lovely this time of year.

(c)Bea DuRette          2009