Dinah

Chapter 2

Early the next morning I arose as usual to help prepare the morning meal. Before fashioning cakes with yesterday's dough, I pounded the grain in the hand mill without having to be prompted hoping to be sent to draw water. However, I was disappointed to find that we still had enough water in the skins hanging from the center pole to last several more days.

Although the well was a public place, Papa felt his land proposal would be better received if we refrained from partaking of the precious commodity until negotiations were under way. I swallowed my frustration, offering to help dress the little ones. I was determined to be on my best behavior. If a chance came to go to the well or the market, I did not want Mama to have any excuse for leaving me behind.

I made sure the young ones had stored their sleeping mats properly and then offered to supervise them while mother arranged the reception room at the front of the tent. The previous day we only had time to pitch the tent and arrange the sleeping room before stopping to fix the evening meal. Afterwards everyone had been too tired to finish arranging the inside of the tent. Instead we had sat outside in the cool singing psalms of rejoicing and rehashing our good fortune in the meeting with Uncle Esau. Everyone speculated about the celebration that would occur if all went well in Papa's negotiations with the King of Shechem.

Today I wanted to be outside when the men left for Shechem. I could observe the villagers undetected and be the first to know of the men's return. Shortly after the children and I went to the back of the tent to play, I saw Papa, Rueben, my oldest brother, and Simeon heading for Shechem. Smiling to myself, I began to plot a way to get Simeon alone so I could coax the details of the meeting from him.

Meanwhile, I watched the women as they came to draw water from the well outside the city gates. Everything was fine until Aunt Rachel came and asked if I would watch Joseph while she visited with Mama. I acquiesced sweetly, but inside I was seething. Joseph was a little pain. He had learned early that being Rachel's son brought with it privilege, and he made sure everyone knew it. The animosity from the previous afternoon had not cooled, but I was prepared to grin and bear it.

Joseph wasted no time in making my life miserable. He teased Sarah until she cried and then got the younger boys in a wrestling match. I no longer had opportunity to observe the village women. When I suggested the children play a less rowdy game and one in which all could participate, Joseph said, "You just want to be rid of us so that you can spy on the villagers, I've been watching you, you know."

I said, "You have an overactive imagination. I plan to participate in the game so that you all will not argue over the rules."

Pleased with himself, Joseph called, "Come on. Lets all play with Dinah. She knows a good game." Momentarily thwarted, I played unenthusiastically with the children until Aunt Rachel returned to her tent, taking Joseph with her.

Able again to concentrate on the village, I noticed that the women wore brightly patterned robes of some type of lightweight cloth. They seemed to hang in more pleasing lines than my coarse gown. Most wore bangles on their arms, around their necks and on their ankles. I wished I were close enough to determine the texture of the cloth, examine the design and ascertain the types of jewelry. My most intriguing observation though was that they wore facial paint. Some used it subtly or not at all. Others had on enough to make it plain from this distance that their cheeks were unnaturally flushed and the size of their eyes was enhanced.

I remembered with amusement the time I had convinced Grandpa to sneak me some eye paint. He felt Papa was a prude and could usually be counted on for support in such endeavors. I had secretly tried the paint and found that it made my eyes look much wider and more interesting. This gave me the idea of trying to get Mama to use it. Her eyes were small, a trait accented by constant squinting. I thought Papa might be enamored with her if she had big, soft eyes like Aunt Rachel. When I suggested she use just a little eye paint, she was horrified. I could just hear her prim voice, "Dinah, I just don't know what you are thinking of. Your Papa would . . ." she broke off sputtering.