She has been stripped of her honour.
That is what they tell her.
She is now a woman without honour. Her
cloth of honour, that covering that was accorded her, has been stripped off her.
She is uncovered, naked, bare. She is less than a woman, an ignominy, a thing
of shame.
Her mother has her head cast down. The
shame of her unclothed daughter stoops her head. Her sisters, and her only
brother, are mute with the humiliation that has taken their speech. They would
not speak to her. They would not look upon her. She is the one naked, they are
the ones suffering the bite of the cold.
He was her honour.
That lesson was ingrained in her the moment
he paid her dowry. That meagre sum, that would not purchase ten parcels of
tobacco, was the price tagged on her honour. He paid the price and claimed her
honour.
