The 1st real account ever released via a sufferer of an "honor crime," this surprising, relocating, and harrowing story has already develop into a global sensation.
Souad used to be a 17-year-old woman dwelling in a small village in Jordan while she had the misfortune of falling in love--an emotion that will bring about an unspeakable act of violence and a life of exile from her place of birth. With a formative years marked by way of tough exertions and actual abuse by the hands of her father, who's humiliated via the beginning of many daughters and just one son, Souad is wanting to go away domestic. Enticed right into a courting with a good-looking neighbor, her short-lived romance leaves her pregnant. Forbidden to marry until eventually her older sisters locate husbands and having introduced disgrace to her kinfolk, Souad faces the one applicable punishment: dying. How her relations plots to kill her, her harrowing fight to outlive burns over ninety% of her physique after her brother-in-law douses her with gas and units her on hearth, her dramatic break out from Jordan, and her unravel to construct a brand new lifestyles for herself is a story of heartbreaking drama and memorable braveness.
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Extra info for Burned Alive: A Victim of the Law of Men
My whole body is trembling as I lock us in the room and console the little one. I try to care for her knee and we stay there for a long time, all three of us, not making a sound. I can’t do anything, absolutely nothing but keep quiet, with this vision of horror in our heads, of my brother strangling our sister. She must have been using the telephone and he came up behind to strangle her. She is dead; I’m convinced she is dead. That day she was wearing white pants, with a shirt that went to the knees.
Among us, they say a girl is mature or “ripe” when this occurs. I was ashamed of this blood because I had to hide it, even from my mother’s eyes, and wash my pants secretly to make them white again, and then dry them quickly in the sun so the men and the neighbors wouldn’t see them. Two pairs were all I had. I remember the paper I used for protection on these awful days when you are considered to have the plague. I would bury it, the sign of my impurity, in secret in the garbage pail. If I had cramps, my mother would boil sage leaves and give it to me to drink.
I’ve kept this reflex of working very fast and walking fast, as if a belt were permanently waiting for me. A donkey is moved along the road by being rapped with a stick. It was the same for us, except that my father would strike us much harder than he would have struck a donkey. I have also been struck the next day, just on principle, so I shouldn’t forget the licking of the previous day. All that so I would continue to move along without falling asleep, like the donkey on the road. Mention of a donkey makes me think of another memory concerning my mother.