A force in the business world, Aliyyah Eniath Hosein has also proven her mettle as a writer of worth. Her literary debut, “The Yard,” published by Speaking Tiger Books in New Delhi in 2016, is set in a traditional Indo-Muslim family living in a communal ‘yard’ in Trinidad which delves into the complexities of love and redemption within Trinidad’s Indo-Muslim community.
Eniath Hosein writes from an Indo-Muslim perspective of “East Indians whose forefathers were brought to Trinidad from India through the British colonial indentureship scheme in 1845.”
Her novel explores how “family, culture, and tradition shape personal outcomes”. It examines the journey of “breaking free from imposed boundaries, finding support, overcoming self-doubt, and being true to oneself.”
This family saga in The Yard explores the tensions and traditions of a devout extended family, offering a compelling look at identity and belonging.
The story follows Behrooz, an abandoned boy taken in by a family living in The Yard. Struggling to find his place, he bonds with Maya, a rebellious girl and his guardian’s daughter. Their relationship deepens, leading to a night of adolescent tenderness. Fearing retribution, Maya flees to London to pursue her artistic dreams. Meanwhile, Behrooz rebuilds his life in Trinidad and marries someone else. When tragedy strikes, Maya returns home, forcing both to confront their past and cultural pressures and to bury personal pain.
This powerful storytelling earned Aliyyah Eniath Hosein spots at the Bocas Literary Festival and the Miami Book Fair.
“Writing isn’t a choice. It’s a necessity,” says Eniath Hosein. “I wrote The Yard to cleanse myself. For 30 years, I soaked in life’s moments like a detached observer. Eventually, those impressions demanded release.
“These stored sensations and thoughts turned into stories. They insisted on being told, and I let them flow naturally.”
For Eniath Hosein, the “personal journey from observer to storyteller is a testament to the transformative power of literature.”
The authors’ love for literature at Holy Faith Convent, Couva and “studying Literature at UWI was a natural progression.”
Eniath Hosein elaborates: “Reading A House for Mr Biswas in high school showed me that a story from a small Caribbean island can resonate globally. “Reading Great Expectations made me envy Dickens. I wanted to write that book. And Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte was my favourite.”
The Yard is an unputdownable work, a testament to Eniath Hosein’s commitment to literature and her considerable literary talent.
As the director at Eniath’s Printing Co Ltd and the founder of Safari Publications Co Ltd, Eniath Hosein has spent 15 years mastering teaching, print design, publishing, marketing, project management, and event planning.
THE YARD
Extract exclusively for the Sunday Guardian
“Guests sat according to the unspoken rule; the aunts took the chairs and their daughters sat on the floor. The party was supposedly meant for girls only, but Maya noticed the boys could peek at them from the lower level. And it was for that reason Aunt Maab refused to remove her hair covering.
Privacy was no big concern for the others, because no one would feel right playing naughty games and making lewd jokes in Alia’s presence. But Aunt Maab had other ideas.
She opened the evening by collecting gifts and piling them up next to a throne-like seat where Alia sat. The game was decided; the bride-to-be would be asked a set of personal questions about her fiancé and would receive a present for each correct answer. Fauzia and Fiza were delighted at the possibility of their older cousin’s secrets being revealed.
Alia was mortified at the end of the game. It turned out that she barely knew anything about her betrothed. She didn’t know his favourite colour, or movie, or song. In fact, she was sure that he rarely listened to music or watched television. ‘It’s not recommended,’ he’d say. He belonged to that recent movement where young Muslims considered everything outside of their religion to be a corrupting influence. Alia herself was much more carefree than that.
The only questions she aced were related to his hobbies and favourite foods; and though she was supposed to collect two gifts only, Aunt Maab gave her all the presents at the end. She blushed bright pink as sneaky bags revealed neon-red and see-through items. Her cousins troubled her to model the lingerie for them but stopped when they thought she was going to bolt from the party.
The second round of games involved making bridal dresses from toilet paper and penises from plasticine; it resulted in bouts of laughter. Aunt Maab even caught a couple of the boys looking up at the commotion and reprimanded them.
Fiza and Fauzia were experts at moulding penises and engaged in a one-on-one competition to see who could make the best one.
Aunt Lulu was mortified. She’d assumed that her girls were too dignified to engage in such behaviour and scolded their effort. The girls gave each other a knowing look, and Aunt Lulu had the strangest notion that whatever she said was nonsensical to her daughters.
Alia shunned the plasticine creations but Aunt Maab did not buy her innocent act. She thought that the girl must have been thinking about penises all along and feigned not to.
Then came the advice from the older folk.
‘A wife should always obey her husband...’ Aunt Maab said.
Maya shuddered at the thought.
‘Yes, remember for you, your husband comes first, but for him, his mother comes first,’ said Aunt Hala.
‘And men love food, you must always make sure there’s food,’ said Aunt Lulu.
‘And never deny them in bed,’ Aunt Heba interjected. ‘It’s frowned upon, lest they find someone else.’
Maya’s uneasiness was palpable. She was truly sorry for her cousin; moreover, she knew she could never be this dutiful wife. The thought was just as repulsive to her as it was twelve years ago.
Maya was relieved when the bridal shower ended. She’d started to feel stifled and all the reasons she left The Yard came flooding back.
She found the boys a merrier bunch. The girls joined them downstairs, and Maya sat with Aunt Heba’s three sons, who were having a raucous chat with Amir, the bridegroom. The boys and Amir attended university locally. It was through this alliance that Alia met her beau.
‘You remember when he first saw her?’ asked Arif.
‘Yah. He said she was okay.’ Zaki laughed. ‘Didn’t think she was all that.’ He picked from a bowl of mango chow. ‘Then the next day he begged all of us to go on a date with them!’
‘Like we all needed to date her,’ said Arif.
Amir, a statelier companion with a perfectly round face, hooded dark-brown eyes, and a beard that reached the base of his neck, was mildly amused; but he wore a silly ear-to-ear grin for his audience.
‘Said he didn’t like local girls,’ teased Zaki. He punched his adversary on the shoulder. ‘Where is Miss Arabia now?’
Maya sniggered at the thought of all three boys and Amir going on a date with Alia; the unsullied girl must have been petrified. ‘So what happened on this date?’
‘Let’s just say we didn’t even get to first base,’ said Arif. The boys laughed and Maya shot Arif a drop-dead look.
The party was growing in size. Behrooz had arrived and was greeted with high fives from Maya’s boy cousins. He sat across from her but avoided her altogether.”
End of Extract.
