As the first light of dawn peeked through the window, Kahraba stirred, already jolted awake by the incessant barking of dogs and the distant whirring of the village's sole water pump. She grumbled to herself, "I haven't slept enough," while her mother made her way up the stairs to the roof where the family slept during the summer. Every morning, her mother's routine entailed rising to the call of prayer, whipping up the customary masoub dessert and coffee, and serving them with luscious dates to her husband and father-in-law before they set off to work beyond the village. On reaching the roof, her mother spied Kahraba pretending to slumber, and catching her breath, perched herself on a pillow beside her daughter, gazing at her lush, cascading locks. To the rest of the world, Kahraba had blossomed into a young lady who needed to acquaint herself with the workings of the household and the farmland. Soon, someone might come knocking on her father's door, seeking her hand in marriage. The mother couldn't help but fret over the possible rumors that may circulate about Kahraba's lack of domestic proficiency. Would they misconstrue Kahraba as a coddled child who abhorred doing chores? As these apprehensions gnawed at her mind, the mother nudged Kahraba to join in with the daily housework and tending to their younger siblings and the livestock.
Complying with her mother's insistence, Kahraba rose and wound a masoun, the traditional headscarf, around her hair. She pondered her father's whereabouts, recalling his promise to bestow upon her a notebook and colored pens, much like those owned by her cousin Fatim. When Kahraba inquired about her father, her mother replied curtly, "He went with your grandfather to settle the land dispute. But why do you need a notebook and pen? What do you intend to become? Instead of writing, tend to the house or go herd the sheep with your cousins." However, Kahraba had grown weary of her mother's monotonous reprimands, and so she descended from the rooftop to the yard, which boasted a partially palm-leafed roof, where the female members of the household congregated for their morning tea, and to brag about their punctual completion of chores. As Kahraba joined in, her uncle's wife quipped snidely, "At last, Kahraba - the first to retire and the last to rise! By God, when they christened her Kahraba, I knew electricity would always elude us." The aunt's jibe was met with raucous laughter, including Kahraba's own.
Naming infants after their parents' aspirations is a customary practice, prevalent across the globe. In Kahraba's hamlet, there resided a woman christened Wahda, denoting unity, in hopes of the reunification of Yemen's two regions, a dream that ultimately came to fruition. In a similar vein, Kahraba's father bestowed upon her an appellation, envisaging a future where their village, situated in the western region of Shabwah Governorate, would be supplied with electricity. While Kahraba's name garnered considerable attention, and many found it peculiar, she wore it with pride amongst her peers. In her opinion, it was a progressive name, contrasting with the conventional ones her friends bore. Kahraba pondered often about the phenomenon that would illuminate their lives and catapult them beyond the confines of gas lamps- electricity. And every time she ruminated on this topic, she concluded with a steadfast conviction, "Undoubtedly, it's a beautiful thing, just like me." Whenever others mocked her name, Kahraba staunchly defended it, reciting the same retort.
Kahraba captured her aspirations for her village's electrification within the pages of her notebook. She chronicled her recurring fantasies of electricity, penning her excitement fervently, despite her struggles with spelling. The absence of any nearby school compelled her to rely on her uncle's wife, who volunteered to educate her in the art of reading and writing. The only school in proximity was situated along the village's perimeter, where her tribe's feud with their neighbors persisted.
The previous night, Kahraba's father was embroiled in a conflict with a member of a rival tribe, with whom his own tribe had long-standing animosity. The individual, who had shot at Kahraba's father's car, prompted him to prepare for the following day by arming himself and ensuring he carried enough ammunition. However, the assailant lay in wait, and fired upon Kahraba's father once more. While he had wished to avoid further violence, knowing that vengeance was a curse with no remedy, he found himself compelled to retaliate and ultimately killed his adversary.
The news of the shooting reverberated through the tribe, and they dreaded the thought of losing Kahraba's father, especially since they believed he had acted in self-defense. With the intention of shielding him from retribution, the tribe reached a consensus to expel him from the village, despite his standing as the community's most wise and revered member. Little did Kahraba know that this episode marked the inception of an odyssey that would uproot her from her beloved abode. Although she experienced a sense of exhilaration while listening to the adults' discussions of their relocation plans, her mother's clan clandestinely spirited them out of the village and transported them to a small town in the eastern region of Shabwah. This was Kahraba's first time leaving her homeland.
As they escaped the perpetual cycle of brutality at the break of dawn, Kahraba peered out of the window and observed the lights dotting the path they traversed. She found it hard to fathom that this was the electricity she had always yearned for.
When she began to pay attention, her father had already started to alert her, "This is electricity. We are now entering the city, and you will be amazed. They say it's nothing compared to cities around the world." Excitedly, she asked him, "Does the house we will live in have electricity?" He replied, "Maybe, and we will live there for a long time. It may not be easy, and there may be no solution at all."
Electricity settled with her family in a village that had electricity. As usual, she took out her notebook and started writing. She admired the television as something new, and she remembered how the people in the new village honored them with a furnished house. They no longer needed to fetch water; she and her mother. They now had electronic devices like a refrigerator and a fan, and she began to learn how to use them, which fascinated her. But a big lump in her throat remained, as the electricity she dreamed of had been seen, but her father's life was in danger.
She cried, expressing that nothing was complete. She wet her notebook, but she couldn't change anything. She now had a completely different life, new friends, and great fears, fearing that her father would be killed, and she would return to her village where there is no electricity specifically.
She looked out the window at her father as he headed to his new job at an ice factory in the city, less than 25 minutes away from the village. She felt worried, but she managed to overcome it. What if they killed her father? This fear haunted her all day long. She pulled herself to a large stone beside their new house, waiting for him, her chest burning with fear. The night came, but her father didn't, instead, her uncle came with some men from the new village. She held her stomach, feeling that something had happened. Her uncle hugged her while crying, "Mohammed was killed. They followed him from place to place and killed him."
She collapsed to the ground, and before she hit the ground, she felt a deep light extinguish within her. The brightly lit room with electricity had turned into a dark and terrifying basement. She felt guilty and felt that the joy of the new place had turned into a curse. The light from which she drew life had gone out, and there was no other light to replace it.
