by Rose Fox
“What? Abdul? I suggest you get on a plane, rather than sail. If you ask me, I have no problem if he brings his Kurdish dog.”
In the two days that followed, the two became firm friends and when they embarked on the plane, Karma felt so close to Bill that he allowed himself to tell him his dreams.
“I fantasize about enlisting in the Kurdish Movement and becoming one of its courageous freedom fighters.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes, and I imagine them sending me back to the mountains and fighting like a genuine Kurd.”
“So, what’s stopping you from remaining here with them?”
“No, not them! I’m talking about the organization that is training in the Nevada Desert.”
His honey-colored eyes sparkled as he whispered to Bill:
“I heard that the members of that group have no chance of fighting in my country because they are persecuted and murdered there.”
Bill burst out laughing and exclaimed:
“Well, you must know of an organization that I know nothing about? What is its name?”
“Mujahedin-e-Khalq,” Karma whispered and Bill stared at him and shut up.
He could help recalling similar periods in his own adolescence, but he was sure the youngster was mistaken in his dreams and was fantasizing on the basis of rumors.
“How can you be sure? Where did you get the idea that they are training with us in the USA?”
Karma decided to keep his silence. He did not want to disclose his conversation with Dugar, the little man, who frequented Hamis’ tavern. He also did not wish to talk about the exploits of the organization about which Dugar had read to him from the newspaper cutting.
White clouds were visible through the plane window. Karma stared at them and trembled with excitement. It all looked too good to be true. So much so, that he feared to find out in the end that something really wasn’t real. He closed his eyes and shifted his thoughts to Nana Kahit, whose presence was always in his soul.
He would often turn his thoughts to her and strengthen himself with the memories she had enriched him with. Yesterday he had imagined that she was the one who sent the giant wave that knocked Jalal down on the deck of the boat. Today, on the plane, he could almost feel her presence beside him. He decided that she was also accompanying him to his current destination, to the USA, of course. He was uncertain so, he asked Bill.
“Are we on our way to them? To the Mujahedin-e-Khalq?
Bill shrugged his shoulders because he really didn’t know where the youngster was being sent. He also did not believe the things Karma told him so, he responded:
“I’m not sure.”
Karma’s mouth drooped in disappointment and, he heard Bill say.
“I was trained for a long time before I was allowed to join the armed forces,” but received no response from Karma. They both grew silent until they disembarked.
Two soldiers accompanied them to a jeep and neither of them spoke. Karma held his breath when he saw them and he didn’t dare start a conversation with them. He looked at the unfamiliar landscape they were passing through and turned his face toward the wind. They drove for more than an hour and his heart beat hard all the time and his chest hurt. It was difficult for him to grasp how things were developing and remain calm. He touched the seat beneath him and the door of the speeding vehicle and told himself that it was all real.
The vehicle drove into sandy terrain and raised a cloud of dust as it sped ahead. In front of them were a group of houses surrounded by fences then turned into a paved path and stopped in front of a long building.
They got out of the car. The soldiers entered the room and one of them instructed him to stay outside the room. A uniformed guard remained near Karma and stared at Abdul, who crouched at his master’s feet and waited.
Bill joined the soldiers, saluted when he entered. He understood they had been waiting for him and his mouth dropped open in amazement when he saw a three-star general facing him. He stood up again and saluted him, tensely standing to attention. Jim returned his salute and smiled. Bill looked at the two other officers and said, half-jokingly:
I have left someone outside, who was brought here on the wings of his dreams. The youngster is obsessed by fantasies.”
“Fantasies?”
“Yes, what would you say if I told you that he speaks of joining an organization that is training here, in the Nevada desert?”
He laughed out loud and was puzzled when no one joined him. On the contrary, their expression was serious and Jim, the general, turned to him.
“Tell me exactly what else the youngster that you brought here said.”
“Ah, he said that people from the “Mujahedin” organization are trained here, with us. He also knows that they are being sent from here to fight the Iranians.”
“Hmm…” Qassem mumbled. No one else noticed how his heart was racing with excitement because, he had himself been through the training Bill was talking about now.
“Listen, gentlemen,” Bill continued, “the young man talks of secret meetings between fighters, about military plans he heard and saw. He tells of people, who returned from the skirmishes and he says he also knows of others, who were killed in action.”
“Really?!” Liam interrupted him with his hoarse voice, “What are we waiting for?! If that’s true, then we have the best possible evidence today!
A black beard covered Liam’s face. A small scar across the breadth of his cheeks created a kind of indent that gave him a menacing expression, even though he had never fired a weapon or been considered a combat soldier. He was a computer expert and his main business was cyber terror.
“So where is he, can we talk to him?” he asked enthusiastically.
It was close to sunset and the last rays of the waning day penetrated the wooden slats of the blinds casting long lines of light in the room. When the door opened, diagonal strips of light shone on a tall, impressive youth, who stood at the entrance. To everyone’s surprise, Qassem rose to embrace him, holding him close to his heart, almost crying, and Karma was embarrassed. He stared at the bearded man and suddenly pushed his forearm toward him and they shook hands exactly as he had seen the men greet one another in Hamis’ tavern. He crossed fingers with him and they brought their forearms together till they touched elbows.
“Brother,” Qassem murmured. “Where did you come from? Speak, tell us.”
He led Karma to a chair and sat down beside him as if they were alone in the room.
Bill poured water into some glasses and proffered one to Karma. He raised his glass and toasted him as one would with wine:
“Long live the men from the battlefield!”
Karma was amazed. He stared at the people, saw the symbols of rank on Jim’s shoulders but, did not understand that he was looking at the insignia of the Chief of Intelligence of the USA Army. It didn’t occur to him that this Commander had set aside the day especially to meet someone who had witnessed and seen the battlefield itself, and to hear about it from such a source.
Qassem introduced the men to Karma, mentioning their role but, clearly, Karma was not yet at ease and did not understand the essence of this meeting.
Jim turned to him with a fatherly smile and asked him to speak.
“About what?” Karma asked and stared into the shining eyes of the men, who were so eager to hear what he had to say.
“Whatever you like,” Jim replied.
Qassem noticed the expression on the youth’s face and tried to put him at ease. He nodded to Jim and spoke to Karma with restraint:
“Why not start by telling us something about yourself? Where were you born, who were your parents and where did you live?”
A smile spread on Karma’s lips and illuminated his face. He related hesitantly how, as an infant, he was extricated from the fingers of his dead mother in the killing fields, and he laughed when he saw how they looked at him. Then, he told them about the tent-dwellers in the Turkish Mountains and the ice-cold water of the river that flowe
d through the arid lands. He gazed dreamily up in the air when he told them how he swam each morning with the children and caught fish for them with his bare hands. Then he fell silent. Suddenly, beloved Nana Kahit was conjured up in his memory and here, the flow of his narrative stopped.
“Yes, but how did you get to the Kurdish rebels?” Qassem asked impatiently.
“Wait; let him tell us in his way.” Liam interceded.
Karma glanced at Qassem and smiled. It pleased him to realize how much Qassem wanted to hear about the lives of the Kurds and he noticed how thirstily he gulped down the story of the river and the fish. Commander Jim also understood this and said:
Hey, Qassem, calm down and control yourself. You can meet him and hear about his childhood some other time. Let him tell us the more salient facts for now.”
Karma, lowered his eyes, surprised and gratified at the interest he was arousing, without yet understanding what it was they were expecting him to say.
“I lived at Hamis’ tavern.” Karma began.
Yes, yes,” said Qassem, aroused.
“I remember people came there to attend meetings in the back room of the tavern and Hamis told me he lost two brothers in the war against the Turkish army.”
There was silence. He noticed the sun’s rays shortening and growing dimmer and was aroused from his reverie by Liam’s voice.
“Do you recall any of the people’s names?” Liam inquired.
“Names? Why names?” Karma was puzzled.
“If we get to meet them, we will be able to offer our help.”
“What do you mean? How could you meet them?”
“Leave it to me, kid. I am also convinced that they will agree to accept our help in their war against the army. Believe me. Don’t you think they need equipment, weapons and financial backing there?”
Karma noticed Qassem’s nod. He had a unique connection to him and trusted only him.
“Ah, Okay. Well, there is Hamis, who plans the activities and allows them to meet at his tavern. Then, there is Abdurobin, who told me about Yisrail (Israel) and the ‘Mossad.'”
Jim glanced quickly at Bill and hurried to add:
“Yes, and who else?”
“Dugar, who is a war hero and…”
“Dugar?” Qassem woke up. “Tell me, that man, he’s like a little kid, short and thin, right?”
Karma was surprised.
“Do you know him?”
“No, but I’ve heard of him. He’s a real scoundrel!” Qassem said and turned to the others. “They say that little man knows no fear. He exploits his diminutive size and squeezes himself into hidden places and… wow, the stories they tell of him,” he waved his hand in excitement, but Jim turned to Karma.
“Did you manage to hear what those people discussed, there in the back room?”
“I tried, but I couldn’t understand what they said.”
“Did you get the impression that they were having success?” was Liam’s question.
“No, not at all. Many do not return and…”
“Wait. Why did you leave them so suddenly?” Jim asked and leaned forward with his arms on the table.
“Because they refused to let me join in, they treated me like a child and… and when I suddenly saw that Hamis was weeping…”
“Hamis cried? When?”
“He wept before I left the place. Two days earlier, people arrived with packages. I realized they were preparing to set out on a mission…” and Jim interrupted him.
“Packages? What did they contain?”
“I don’t know. They were wrapped in paper. Perhaps weapons or bombs, I’m not sure.”
The three stared at him very intently, waiting for his words of response. The sun had set and it was growing darker. Karma’s eyes were moist and his voice broke as he said.
“The following evening, Hamis wept.”
“Did he tell you what happened?”
“No, he didn’t want to share with me.”
He stopped all at once and looked at the four of them, his gaze passing from one to the other as if he had just caught on to something.
“What happened?” Qassem asked.
“Nothing.” Karma shrugged.
Qassem and Liam exchanged glances. They both realized that the youngster was under pressure and had been subjected to the intense interrogation of the past hour and had answered a flood of questions. He signaled them to stop and said:
“Good, Halas, (that’s enough).”
But Jim did desist. He was not satisfied with what he had heard and thought it was important to learn more about what was happening there, in the distant Turkish Mountains.
“Wait, you didn’t say who the people, who brought the packages to the last meeting, where or what they talked about there."
In response, he heard Qassem.
“Commander, I suggest we take a break, with your permission, Sir!”
Qassem stood up and saluted. Without waiting for approval, he grabbed Karma’s arm and went out of the room with him. Outside, Karma stared at him.
“I’m scared I did something bad,” he whispered. “Perhaps I should not have given names and…”
“On the contrary, I want to tell you that if Hamis or Dugar or Robin had known that you would get here, to the USA, they would have treated you differently and would have given you a detailed list of the supplies they need.”
“Is that how you think?” Karma mumbled.
“Listen to me, man, you have no idea how much you have helped them now. I think you’ve made their day. You have contributed more than any other Kurdish hero who fought the soldiers and their army.”
Karma stopped and looked at him,
“Are you sure?” He asked hesitantly.
His shaggy-eared dog got to its feet, sniffed at Qassem’s trousers, rubbed against his master’s leg and wagged his tail.
It was already dark outside and Karma turned his face toward the wind. He tried to cool the storm that had gripped his spirit, turned away from Qassem, and waved his fist in the air, presuming that no one saw his enormous excitement.
That night they climbed into a jeep and set out on their way.
Qassem sat beside him and felt a sense of ownership over this Kurdish boy.
He recalled his childhood when he had also run around between the Kurdish tents in the Iraqi Mountains, an adolescent boy among abandoned youths and children. He also wandered to the large cities, sought work and sustenance. Just like the boy beside him, he joined the forces of the Mujahedin-e-Khalq with enthusiasm and full of faith. In his time, they still operated within the country, against an army that was ten times more powerful in terms of weapons, fighting forces and organization.
He knew that the boy was right, because many of his friends were caught and put to death. They were informed that the authorities were looking for the runaway fighters, and he decided to get away and leave the area. He had run away like many other drifting survivors of the organization.
Qassem recalled how, under cover of night, he climbed into a parked truck and hid under a tarpaulin that had been stretched over mounds of red sand. When the driver came and the journey began, he was rocked for hours till the truck stopped. Qassem peeped from under the tarpaulin and saw ships anchored at sea. He didn’t know he was at the harbor on the Straits of Hormuz. Here, he climbed down from the truck, wandered around looking for work and joined a team loading goods on the ships and worked for a few days.
One day, after offloading a bag of flour from his back in the vessel's hold, he decided to stay there, and not climb back on deck. He sat between the sacks, where he fell asleep and only woke up when the siren sounded and the anchor was raised. He didn’t know where they were sailing to and it didn’t interest him. When he came out to find something to eat, his presence as a stowaway was discovered and he was brought before the Captain. The man decided that the stowaway would pay for his passage with unpaid hard labor. Qassem bowed his head in submission but thought that he had just been gi
ven a free ride to the big world.
He discovered two more stowaways on this ship, who had fled from Iran’s killing fields. They also joined the labor crew of the freighter and worked for humble meals and a brighter future. After many turbulent days at sea, the vessel reached the USA and they eventually found themselves in the training tents of Mujahedin-e-Khalq in the Nevada Desert.
At the end of the training period, they sent a group of fighters, with Qassem among them, back to their country, equipped with weapons and plans. Qassem found himself participating in guerilla attacks, hiding behind hills and coming out to attack automobiles, in which, they were informed, Iranian government officials were traveling.
He shuddered as he recalled the stressful experiences of those days. He had lived in caves and roamed between rocks and forests and his reward was to return to the USA, where received higher rank and a new position. His job was to enlist recruits to the organization. Now, he looked at Karma, happy to be escorting the youth and felt he was reliving and reviving his adolescence.
They reached their destination at dawn, got out of the car and Karma stopped. He saw the sea of dusty tents that stretched to the horizon and memory threw him back to his childhood. He pursed his lips to prevent himself from laughing when he thought he might find Nana Kahit in one of the tents. The scent of her embrace returned to him and he turned aside to conceal his emotions.
This was the training camp for Kurdish and Iranian exiles, who trained under the name ‘Mujahedin-e-Khalq’ and it was from here that the trained units set off on their assignments.
From the start, Karma attracted attention. He had the gifts of intelligence and an impressive appearance.
“Where are you from?” Tell us something about yourself and your life.”
He solved this by making his life story very brief and summed up his childhood and boyhood.
“I come from the tents in the Turkish Mountains, roamed the streets of the city of Wan and took rides with anyone who gave me work.”
One day, his three recruiters, Qassem, Bill, and Liam, came to see him. They were accompanied by two other people, a man with slanted eyes that peered through frameless glasses and a tall woman in a galabiya and abaya, whose huge, almost colorless eyes attracted everyone’s attention. Karma was called to this meeting and this was the second time that he heard the name ‘Mossad’ in the same breath as that of the ‘Mujahedin-e-Khalq’, as well as that of the State of Israel.