Dinah

Chapter 4

After filling the water skins, I hurried to dress for the night's festivities. Normally I would not be present at such an affair. The men usually dined in Papa's tent with their male guests. They were attended by the servants. Because of the luxury of separate tents, I was normally even denied the pleasure of eavesdropping from the inner chamber.

Tonight, though, Mama, Aunt Rachel and I would serve in the place of the servants. This was the only acceptable way for the Princes to meet the female members of the family. Our service would also be a tribute to the importance of the guests. I understood that the women of some tribes danced for the entertainment of the male guests. This had never been true of our family.

The women danced during celebrations, but not to please guests. Our dances were dedicated to Yahweh as a form of worship. Women also sometimes danced in a private setting for their husbands. This, of course, I had never experienced.

Because of the prominence of our visitors, we would wear our only silken robes over our dresses. These were saved for special occasions, and I had never worn the one given me by Grandpa Laban when I became a woman. Wishing I had a dress of similar material, I caressed the soft cloth I loved.

I sighed as I looked down at the finery covering my coarse brown dress. I felt like a pig dressed in a doll gown. The luxurious robe did not adequately disguise the dress underneath. Making a face, I resignedly began to brush my hair, quickly braiding it to fall down my back.

The braid was more for comfort than for vanity. With my veil and headpiece, no one would know whether my hair was braided or even if I were bald. I wished that I could put on some perfume and eye paint. I had some hidden among my treasures, but knew better than to do anything so bold. Even Papa would banish me from the banquet.

Papa's best leather rug had been spread on the tent floor as the serving table. My brothers, Zilpah's and Bildah's adult sons, and the Princes would sit with Papa around the rug. The serving dishes would be in the center. The men would use their bread to scoop the other dishes to their mouths.

Aunt Rachel, Mother and I were each assigned men to attend. We would be present to wash their feet, annoint their heads and wash their hands before and after the meal. During the meal, we would stand in the background prepared to grant any request made by the guests and replenish their cups with milk or water as needed.

As senior wife, Mother would normally be responsible for Papa, his two oldest sons and the two elder princes, but Aunt Rachel had been given this assignment because Papa favored her. Mama had accepted the disgrace of being overlooked without flinching or arguing.

I felt my always smoldering anger rise, but refrained from a typical outburst for fear of being relieved of my position at the feast. Mama would serve the middle four of Papa's sons and the two middle Princes. I would serve Papa's four youngest sons and the youngest Prince.

My normal excitement at attending such a momentous occasion was further fueled by the knowledge that the Prince I would be serving was Shem, the one I had nearly encountered at the well. The handsome face imprinted on my memory could be compared at close range to the real thing. I was sure that my imagination had enhanced his natural beauty and that I would be disappointed when confronted with the actual young man.

Mama and Aunt Rachel had been overseeing the meal preparation all day while I hauled water. The tempting aromas rising from the ovens in front of the tents made my stomach wrench. Mama gave me a piece of bread and reminded me that it would never do for my stomach to make unseemly noises while serving.

Customarily, the women did not eat until the men were finished. The bread was an exception made to avoid embarrassment during the feast. Until the men's appetites were sated, I would not be allowed to taste the delicious and rarely prepared venison and quail roasting over the fires.