by Howard Faber
***
For a while, Ali felt sorry for himself. He wasn’t going to see his family, and he was in great danger. He was hungry and thirsty, but he had no other place to go. On the other hand, his sister was nearby. She thought he had left to Iran, but he knew she would be overjoyed to see him. He could help her and protect her from the Taliban.
The imminent danger from the plane was no more, although the cloud of the Taliban still hung over Sharidure. While the Taliban were still around, he would be in danger. Maybe they would go away soon.
As it got darker, he climbed down to the river valley. He bent down to get a drink. Now, he was just hungry. Then he remembered his slingshot. He couldn’t remember having to use it to hunt for food, having only hunted for fun.
The sight of two rabbits focused him on relieving his hunger. He stalked them and found his aim was as good as ever. He carried the rabbit back to the river to wash it. How could he cook it? Maybe the little building up on the airfield still had the matches and charcoal he and his friends used when they stayed there overnight. He was really hungry, so he walked around to the west side of the cliff, where it wasn’t as steep and climbed back up to the runway. He peered cautiously into the darkness to see if possibly someone was watching the airfield. He couldn’t see anyone, so he crawled up over the edge and walked as quietly as he could around the edge of the runway to the small building. He knew there was no light in it, but that was better anyway. He opened the door and found everything just as he remembered. In one corner was the box where they kept the matches and charcoal. To his great delight, matches and charcoal were still in the box. About an hour later, he was feasting on roast rabbit.
As for a place to go, he decided he would stay away from the town, but he could probably stay here. No one seemed to have been here for a long time. “That was enough for one day,” he thought to himself. He would see what else to do in the morning. The walls protected him from the cool evening breeze, and he slept until morning.
***
He meant to wake up before sunrise, but when he got up and stretched, the light was seeping through the cracks around the door of the little building, his new home. He would have to wait another day, until dark, to go back to talk to Shireen. The Taliban might still be in Sharidure. When he opened the door and started out to return to the river for a drink, he saw someone coming up the path from town. He jumped back behind the building, hoping that someone did not see him. He waited, then lay down on the ground to take a peek around a corner of the building. It was a woman, not so surprising since there weren’t any grown men in Sharidure. At first, he couldn’t see who it was because her back was toward him. Then, she turned to go back down to town. It was Shireen! He wanted to call out, but someone else might be close by. He stepped slowly out from behind the building and softly called, “Shireen, it’s me, Ali,” then quickly added, “Don’t say anything. Just walk over here.” Shireen turned and gasped, then walked over to Ali.
“Ali, why are you here? Why didn’t you leave?”
“I had to sweep out the tracks of the plane so the Taliban wouldn’t know a plane was here. They did come; I heard them, but they didn’t see me. They had someone with them, a Dari speaker, who must have told them the plane was here. I couldn’t see or tell who it was. They went back down to the town.” The words were tumbling out. “I stayed up here last night. I was afraid to come into town. Are the Taliban still here?”
“No, they left. But they said if a plane ever came, or if anyone came to help us, they would find out and come again. They said no one should have resisted them, reminding us of that awful day when they shot all the men.”
Ali shuddered to think what might have happened if the Taliban had found the plane. “Shireen, it’s not going to happen. Their time will come to leave. I don’t think they want to live up here. They will lose interest and leave.”
Shireen looked at him, and her tears dried up. She wiped her eyes, straightened up, even smiled, and added her own hope. “They can’t hurt us any more than they have. All of my friends are determined to restore our town. We have a school for the children, we are growing wheat, and now we have started gardens. She looked down, not sure if she should tell Ali what else she wanted to say. “My brother, my greatest sorrow is that my husband was also killed by the Taliban. I watched him stand, tall and proud, facing the Taliban. He was the son of Askgar, the leader of our local Mujahudeen. His name was Ahmad Nabi.”
“I knew him. He was part of the group that wrecked the Russian UAZs. He was a good person. I’m so sorry, Shireen.”
“It’s in the past. That time has gone. Now, we have to make a plan to get you back to Iran. The best way is by truck because the Taliban aren’t so worried about people in trucks. They do search the buses. Ali, you have to leave today. There might be other informants around.”
“But what about you? How will you survive?” Ali started to ask if she needed a man to help her, but he only thought it, then thought better of it. Maybe she could be all right by herself. He thought back about when they were growing up, and smiled at remembering when she fought some other kids when they made fun of his bent leg.
“What are you smiling about?”
“I was just thinking about how you fought those kids who were teasing me about my leg.”
Shireen smiled, then laughed. “Those stupid girls. Some of them are still here, and they’re still stupid.” They both laughed. It felt good to laugh.
“The trucks come in from Bamiyan in the afternoon and leave as soon as they can. They go from here over the Shahtoo pass to Pahnjwak. I’m sure they would give you a ride. There won’t be any Taliban along the way until you get close to Herat. Make friends with the driver, and he’ll hide and protect you. Maybe you can get all the way to the border. If a truck comes in, I’ll come to get you, but for now, wait up here, and I’ll bring you some tea and nawn.” Shireen left to go get Ali something to eat. What she said made complete sense. Ali wasn’t worried any more about his sister. He would make her safer by leaving, just as they discussed when they thought he would be leaving on the plane.
She came back soon with some hot tea, nawn, and even an egg. They talked about meeting again, though both wondered if that would ever come true. Ali told her more about his own new family and how they would love her and be a family for her. They talked about when they were young and the world was good and life was easy. “God willing, it will be good and easy again, Shireen Jahn.” Ali was trying to give hope to his sister. She slowly walked back down to town to wait for a truck.
Chapter Twelve
Escape From the Taliban
That afternoon Shireen came back to get Ali. A truck was leaving soon for Pahnjwak. Brother and sister talked about what might lie ahead in their lives, as they walked down to Sharidure. Shireen gave Ali some nawn and apples for his trip. He climbed up into the back of the truck and waved, as the truck rumbled out of town. His last sight of his sister was her waving goodbye, as the truck rounded a curve in the road.
In Pahnjwak, there were no Taliban, just two more passengers. They were going to Jungal. When they arrived, late at night, the driver told Ali he might be able to stay in the weather station. It turned out to be empty, so no one objected to his staying. There were several rooms to choose from. The driver promised not to leave withou
t him, but Ali got up as soon as it was light. He was grateful for the nawn and an apple Shireen gave him.
He found the truck parked outside a teahouse. The driver was just up and invited Ali to some hot tea. So far, his journey was as good as he could have hoped. That day, as the small towns went by, he and the driver talked about everything from the Taliban to the price of nawn to their schools. The driver was from Bamiyan. He told Ali about how the Taliban ruined the giant Buddhas and how it had saddened all of the people from Bamiyan. “No one can understand it. There was no reason. They were part of our ancestors, part of our hearts. It made everyone hate the Taliban even more. A fight is a fight, a war is a war, but the Buddhas were not part of this war.”
Ali talked about his growing up in Sharidure and about his family in Muhshed. The driver told Ali he was only going as far as Herat, but he knew lots of drivers who made regular trips to Muhshed, and when they got to Heart, he found a truck leaving the next morning for Muhshed.
At the Iranian border the guards waved the truck through. They seemed to know the driver so Ali didn’t even have to get down. They soon drove into Tyabad, where they had lunch. When Muhshed appeared on the horizon just before dark, Ali offered the driver money, but he waved Ali on and said he appreciated the company. Ali climbed down and waved as the truck pulled away. He was home again.
***
No one knew he was coming. He knocked on the door and waited. “Who is it?” It was Nafisa’s voice.
“It’s me, Ali. I’m home.”
There was a running sound on the other side of the door. Nafisa, Hassan and Shireen all were there. Hassan and Shireen jumped up and down saying, “Baba, Baba! (Daddy, Daddy)” Ali and Nafisa hugged and were both almost knocked over by Hassan and Shireen.
“Are you tired? Would you like some tea? How about some aash? We just had some.” Nafisa was so glad to have him home.
“Yes, to all of those. I haven’t had anything like your aush since I left.” Ali could picture Nafisa making the noodles and stirring the sour cream and vegetables to make the delicious soup.
“How did you get here? Reza told us about flying the plane out and how you had to sweep out the tracks. Did the Taliban come?”
“They did come, but not before I got all the tracks swept out. They came in two pickups, I think, though I didn’t actually see them. I could only hear them. I was over the side of the cliff where they couldn’t see me.” Ali told them about the rest of the night, and the next days. He told them about his sister and about the journey in the truck to Muhshed. He didn’t tell them about the continuing threat of the Taliban.
Hassan and Shireen wanted to have a story about Mullah Nasrudeen, the one about how Mullah Nasrudeen was the best chicken. Ali agreed but said they first had to tell him about their classes and what they were playing after school. They took turns sitting on his lap and telling him all about everything. It was great to be home.
***
About two months later, a stranger came into Sayeed’s shop. He said he was from Bamiyan, and he was looking for someone from Sharidure named Ali. At first, Sayeed was suspicious of this stranger, but after further questioning, he decided that what he was saying was true, so he went to get Ali, who came to meet him. The man said that he was from Bamiyan, but that he had a sister living in Sharidure. He had come through there on his way to Muhshed to get cooking oil and kerosene. He had his own truck and made the trip every other month. His sister told him that she was a friend of Shireen and that Shireen was under suspicion of the Taliban. They thought she was teaching girls and were making life very difficult for her, threatening her, restricting where she went, watching her closely. She was afraid they might harm her more. The man said his sister thought Shireen had a brother in Iran, probably in Muhshed. He said he was a nephew of Akbar, Ali’s father’s friend, so he went there first to ask if there was someone from Sharidure who might be Shireen’s brother. That’s how he found Sayeed’s shop. He knew the situation was very difficult for the people of Sharidure and wondered if he could bring something back to Shireen to help her survive.
Ali thanked him profusely, asked where he was staying in case he wanted to contact him, and went straight to his house to talk about what to do with Nafisa. “Ali, we have to help her. We are her only family. She must be so afraid. Do you think she could come here?”
“I don’t think so. Women who aren’t accompanied by a man from their household aren’t allowed to go anywhere. Maybe we could send her some money. I trust this man from Bamiyan. He is a nephew of Akbar.”
“Ali, what if you went to get her. Then she would be allowed to travel.”
“Let’s think about it tonight and decide in the morning. The man from Bamiyan isn’t going back for several days because he has to get his truck loaded.”
***
The morning was Friday, “Jumah,” the holy day. There was no school, and the carpentry shop was closed. After morning prayers and the sermon by the mullah at the mosque, Ali and Nafisa sat back on the cushions in their home to decide what to do. They both wanted to do the best thing for their family but were worried about what might happen to Shireen, Ali’s sister, if she stayed in Sharidure. They finally decided that Ali had to go back to convince her to come to Iran. When they talked it over with Nafisa’s family, they agreed they couldn’t just leave Ali’s sister alone, so it was decided.
If the Taliban were suspicious of why Ali was there, he was going to say he was a teacher and wanted to start a school for boys. Shireen helped him gather several levels of teacher books. He also started letting his beard grow to help him be accepted by the Taliban. His own children thought it strange to see him with a beard. They had never seen him with one.
The truck was to leave on Monday for Bamiyan. The driver agreed to have Ali ride along. He was glad to do his part to help. There were lots of hugs and tears, but everyone was prepared for the separation. It would be a short one, probably not more than a couple of weeks. The truck driver assured them he would continue making the trip so Ali and Shireen were assured of a way back to Iran. It was a good plan. Even Ali’s beard was cooperating, coming in dark and thick.
Again the border crossing was uneventful. The evening of the second day saw the truck rumbling into the outskirts of Sharidure. Ali invited the driver to stay for the night. He was glad to accept, after turning down the initial offer. That was only polite.
Shireen was totally surprised to see Ali when she greeted him at the door of their home. After a warm meal, the driver took his things to the carpentry shop and parked his truck in front.
Ali told Shireen of the plan. She liked the part about him being a teacher but insisted she could not leave because the girls needed her as their teacher. She was having small groups attending sewing lessons, and secretly teaching them to read, write, and learn mathematics.
In the morning, a Taliban representative was at the door, asking who Ali was and why he was here. Ali told him he was Shireen’s brother, that he was here to be a teacher for boys, and he just returned from Iran. The Taliban representative asked for some proof, so Ali showed him the teacher books he had. That seemed to impress him. He left making a comment about Ali’s fledgling beard, but also saying it was good that he was trying to grow a beard in accordance with Taliban requirements.
Inside
Boys’ School • By Howard Faber
So it was, that Ali became the official teacher of the boys of Sharidure.
It worked out really well. It was completely out in the open. He had a reason to be there. It was also a big relief for Shireen because she could now leave her home, accompanied by her brother, an adult male, thus appropriate to the Taliban regulations.
However, it was a change in the plans for Ali. They would not be leaving as soon as he expected. He would have to let his family in Muhshed know.
***
“Shireen, I overheard two of the Taliban talking today. They were saying they have heard rumors of a secret school for girls. They said they are going to search all of the houses until they find it. You have to stop.” This was one of Shireen’s friends. She had come to Shireen and Ali’s house this morning to warn them. Shireen immediately went to tell Ali what her friend said. Maybe one of the children had somehow been overheard or one of the families. That night, Shireen only had sewing classes, no school. When the girls asked why, she told them she was waiting for new books, so they would have to wait to have more classes until the books came.
The next morning, Ali found one of the dreaded night letters on the outside of their door. It said they were suspected of having classes for girls, and unless the lessons stopped, their home would be burned, and they would be punished. He didn’t tell Shireen but he was very worried. They would have to leave.
Where could they go? Should he tell Shireen? He decided he would have to tell her, and they would both have to go. He couldn’t leave her by herself. He also knew they would be closely watched.
“Shireen, the Taliban suspect us of holding classes for girls. They will now be watching us carefully.” He didn’t tell her about the night letter. “I think we should leave secretly but not right away. We have to think up a way to make it seem not to be suspicious when we leave.”