Neighbors

by Paul Z. Ford

  Aisha and Daniel both replied that they loved him, too; Daniel’s sounded more like “dub-oo” but he got the idea across. Kahn hated leaving like this, but knew they’d have a more productive talk later when they both weren’t in a hurry. He grabbed his keys and wallet from the top of the washer on his way through the laundry room into the garage. He hit the button on the wall to open the door. His car wasn’t in the garage because he had a pile of boxes, mostly old books and papers he had from when he was growing up, and his remaining Army field gear in totes on the floor of the small space. He had meant to sort through these things for months, since they moved in really. Maybe he would do it this week as an apology to Aisha? Maybe.

  Kahn felt guilty because his wife obviously felt deceived. He didn’t even tell her the full truth. Not only did he feel they were increasingly isolated from their community, but he also felt a nagging suspicion that the church itself would be happy if the Kahns were gone. But it felt like betrayal thinking that. Unfaithfulness. Worse, it felt like treachery to keep these feelings from his wife.

  Loyalty and protection were values his parents taught him every day as he was growing up. Kahn’s father was always doting to his wife, and was careful to use himself as a shield to protect his family from some of the more uncomfortable aspects of living in a new country. Kahn found that he had that same instinct with Aisha and Daniel. To protect them, to provide for them, and to work hard to ensure their comfort. Lately, he felt torn since he observed some others looking at his family like invaders, radicals, or monsters. He couldn’t believe the majority felt this way, but he wanted to hide and live in fear of those who did.

  He walked outside into the brisk December air of South Texas. It wasn’t really winter cold; it was mild. Texas winter, he thought. When he checked this morning, it said today’s high would be around 60 degrees. But right now, in the dim early light it was chilly. He could see his breath. He used the key to unlock the door of his Corolla. As he opened the door he looked up and saw his nearest neighbor standing several hundred feet away on his front porch. The Kahns’ house was on a pretty modest piece of land, about three acres surrounded by its own metal fence. The size of the property was one of the things that attracted them. The house was a bit small, but the rest of the property was comparatively vast. Their budget was modest, so having the outdoor space would allow them to have a dog, maybe some chickens or something, and to build a shop for tools and cars and whatever else they wanted. Of course, since he was discharged, their budget had been too tight to make any of the improvements they had planned. They hadn’t even gotten a dog.

  He looked over toward the far side of the yard and raised his hand straight up in the air in a friendly wave. The neighbor saw and returned the gesture. He was one of the administrative sergeants in Kahn’s former battalion, C-company maybe, Kahn couldn’t remember. They only knew each other in passing, but they hadn’t really talked much beyond an occasional neighborly hello. He was a big guy from what Kahn remembered, physically intimidating, which was obvious even from across the two large yards. Once during a battalion NCO meeting, Kahn ended up getting a cup of coffee behind the guy and remembered he was over 6 and a half feet tall easily, had very dark skin, a shaved head, and enormous hands holding a styrofoam cup that looked miniature in his fingers.

  Kahn seated himself on the creaky leather seat and pulled the door shut. Kimble was his name, Sergeant Kimble. But Kahn didn’t know anything beyond that the man was a full-time admin for one of the units in San Antonio. He was one of only a few neighbors, but none were friends to the Kahns.

  There were only ten houses on the block, and the street was isolated off a spur highway. Each house had a large property surrounded by a gate, so Kahn and his wife hadn’t spent time meeting any of the neighbors in the last year. An isolated hello, like this morning’s wave to Kimble, was a common way to stay friendly and isolated simultaneously.

  He started the car, made sure the heater was blowing, and backed down the gravel driveway. He pivoted the car around and slowly drove past the large oak tree out along the gravel exit to the property. It was one of only two large trees on the land, other than that it was just grass and some prickly mesquite bushes. He saw his neighbor in the rear-view mirror walk down his porch steps as Kahn drove past the sliding metal gate, always open because it was a pain to get out and swing it closed manually every time, and past the brick mailbox. The shuffling figure of Kimble walking toward their adjacent gates quickly faded away as Kahn drove down the crunchy road toward the highway.

  Chapter 2

  Family History

  In 1969, Iraq became the first non-communist state to recognize Soviet-controlled East Germany as an independent nation. East Germany immediately began friendly relations with Iraq, with the two countries trading goods and establishing embassies. East German statesman Joseph Kahn was among the first diplomats invited to foster this new relationship between the states. Joseph was with Foreign Minister Otto Winzer as one of the initial representatives between the German Democratic Republic and the Republic of Iraq. Joseph traveled with Iraqi leaders between Berlin and Baghdad, and, as a result, spent a lot of his personal time with Iraqi foreign relations officials. One of these officials was an Assyrian diplomat who served as one of the liaisons between the Christian Assyrian minority and the Ba’ath party in Baghdad. Joseph courted the diplomat’s daughter, Emmita Ruwal, and married her in 1970.

  Joseph and Emmita Kahn had two children, Ashur and Adam, born in 1971 and 1972. The brothers were close, and the family spent the first few years traveling between the two friendly countries and enjoying their status as diplomats. The boys grew up and attended school in Baghdad, but tensions grew. Saddam Hussein became president of the country in 1979 and declared war on neighboring Iran in 1980. At first, Joseph and his family avoided the war. Joseph applied multiple times to return to Berlin, but was denied by the communist-controlled state as the diplomacy and trade of oil between the two countries was vital.

  In 1986, Iraq began the al-Anfal campaign against Kurdistan in northern Iraq. The action came near the final stages of the Iran-Iraq War and was led by Ali Al-Hassan al-Majid, one of Saddam’s cousins, who later became known as “Chemical Ali” because of his actions during the campaign. This genocidal conflict targeted Kurdish cities and involved aerial bombings, ground offensives, executions, and chemical warfare. During the war, Assyrian cities and towns also came under attack. Joseph’s family remained in Baghdad and were helpless when Emmita’s father, former diplomat for the regime, was killed in a bombing. Joseph’s older son, Ashur, became involved in the action by joining with northern Assyrians. In 1988, 17-year-old Ashur Kahn was killed alongside many other Assyrian Iraqis in a chemical attack against a targeted village. He was among the approximately 180,000 people killed during the operation.

  Joseph and Emmita were devastated when their elder son was killed. Ashur’s death steeled their resolve to flee Iraq. As an East German, Joseph could not obtain a visa to travel to any country he considered safe for his wife and teenage son. Their opportunity finally came in October of 1990 with the reunification of East and West Germany. Joseph applied for a permanent resident visa to the United States and was accepted. In 1991, the Kahn family moved to Illinois and resettled with a new home, new jobs, citizenship, and new opportunity. Adam Kahn, now 20 years old, married a young American woman named Linda Bowen. Shortly after they had their only child, Halwende Kahn. Both Adam and Linda were college students struggling to make ends meet. They worked hard to support each other and their child, a quality Kahn attempts to emulate to meet his family’s needs.

  Hal grew up listening to his grandfather Joseph’s stories of East German communism and Ba’athist totalitarianism. His grandfather described the persecution and false rhetoric he witnessed toward Kurds and Assyrians, and spoke frankly about Hal’s Uncle Ashur and the genocide that lead to his demise. He described great hordes of people, pressing hungrily against each other, and the desperation that came
over the masses in both of his home countries. They devoured each other in war and hate. Hal Kahn grew to resent and distrust his grandfather’s institutions of government, especially in crisis. Joseph warned of extremists that designed agendas to separate and denigrate people by their race, religion, or country of origin hidden within nationalism. He admired the United States for saving his grandparents and father, and grew up with an ironic patriotism given his Soviet and Assyrian heritage.

  When Kahn turned 18, he was accepted into an Army scholarship program at the University of Texas at San Antonio. He went to basic training in the summer after high school and matriculated into the university’s management program. As a freshman, he met a beautiful young woman named Aisha Zaka. She was his age and studying in the same degree program, without the military science requirements. After spending a semester, and several classes, together, he learned she was also an Assyrian from Iraq. Her parents were victims of the al-Anfal genocide around the same time Kahn’s Uncle Ashur was killed. Aisha’s parents died in a concentration camp in Northern Iraq. She and her brother, also named Ashur, were rescued by a UN humanitarian organization and relocated to a resettlement colony in Texas. She and Ash became U.S. citizens through the program and completed high school under the care of a foster family.

  Aisha and Halwende Kahn were married in 2011 at the age of 20. Kahn left the Army in 2015 and Aisha gave birth to their son Daniel later that same year. Now, they live in their home on the outskirts of San Antonio. Kahn, of course, works with his brother-in-law Ash as a manager of the latter’s gun shop business. Aisha has worked several management jobs, but left her most recent job just before Daniel was born and decided not to return. They struggle a bit, but they are mostly able to make ends meet.

  Kahn has felt torn between Aisha’s strong faith and his own doubts and insecurities about the state of the world. Last month’s 2016 presidential election and the year of campaigning prior were a difficult time for him. They had watched online as community members and friends seemed to share and embrace nationalistic rhetoric encouraged by the media and candidates. The echo chambers online exacerbates the fear many of his fellow Texans feel about terrorism and crime. He is increasingly noticing sly looks and whispers from others in their church congregation and people around town. Occasionally, he will be the recipient of a xenophobic “joke” from a customer. Since they both look ethnically Middle Eastern, Kahn has developed a protective fear for his family. He sees the parallels between the genocide and nationalism his grandfather warned him about.

  He naively tells everybody they are Assyrian since the story of how they met is interesting and coincidental. Both coming at different times and different ways as minorities from a tumultuous nation made a great love story in his opinion. But now cynicism from the ignorance of others has started to change his narrative. People get weird. Strangers assume they are terrorists, or ask ignorant questions. Many begin to act nervous or sometimes afraid of them, making quick excuses to leave the conversation. Of course, most people are unfamiliar with Assyrians. Assyrians are themselves often victims of the same radical terrorism that these people fear. Kahn is trying to simplify his conversations with others. It’s difficult to mask his pride in his family’s heritage, despite these experiences.

  Kahn’s brother-in-law Ash is a pretty positive influence on him. Ash helps him remain optimistic about people, and it helps that he shares a name with Kahn’s martyred uncle. Kahn is especially close to his brother-in-law. They work well together, and Ash acts as a sounding board for when Kahn has something to complain about. Ash has talked about expanding Kahn’s role in the business beyond simply managing the store. He wants Kahn to negotiate with vendors and travel for trade shows and specialty purchases. They are planning a second store location, one with a range attached. Soon, Kahn would be in the position to staff multiple stores. Ash wants Kahn to buy into the company as a partner, but so far Kahn has timidly declined. These possible future developments would all be positive for the Kahn family.

  However, he struggles to remain positive while still providing for and protecting his wife and son. He doesn’t understand the direction the country seems to be going in compared to the America that saved his grandparents, his dad, his wife and her brother. There is a sinking feeling in his gut that it’s all going wrong. He’s nervous for the future. He senses a vulnerability, like the country is exposed to something carnivorous, and he is afraid.

  Chapter 3

  Vitality

  “Almost ready to open?” Kahn turned around to see his brother-in-law, Ash, standing in the doorway to the small admin office. Kahn had been working on the opening duties for the store for a couple of hours and he was a few minutes from opening the store for the day.

  “Oh, yeah, I’m just finishing up some of the last inputs. I didn’t even hear you come in. Are you working today? I thought James was opening with me?” He didn’t mind having Ash here, actually. They usually did way better in sales on days they worked together, but then sales were slower on days when neither of them was there to supervise the store. So they split the schedule up to more effectively manage the team. But that meant they didn’t often work simultaneous shifts. Kahn was pleased.

  “He texted me this morning and said his wife and kid are sick. He had to stay home to take care of them. There wasn’t anybody else to work it. I’ll have Haylee take my Thursday opening shift and I’ll work a short closing.” Ash walked the two steps to the printer and studied the morning printouts Kahn had generated. Ash was tall, a few inches taller than Kahn’s 5’8” frame, and had a slim athletic build. Kahn had been slightly lazy since he was discharged and Ash obviously still ran every morning to stay in shape. He was a few years older than his sister Aisha, but despite that hadn’t settled down into any serious relationships. He ran his fingers through his short, wavy, black hair as he read the previous day’s sales summary. He was clean-shaven, unlike Kahn, and had a slightly lighter skin tone as well.

  “Okay, sounds good. Something’s going around,” Kahn replied. He turned back to the computer and began typing in the last of the sales records from yesterday. Saturday had been a pretty good day, several more gun sales than their goal, and Kahn had just one more paper form to transcribe into the federal database. He quickly finished, took the morning paperwork from Ash, and filed it away.

  “Any issues this morning?”

  “No, just a weird override yesterday from Haylee near the end of the day. I think it was a manufacturer’s coupon on a box of that Federal .45 Auto, but I couldn’t find the coupon. I texted her about it already.” Kahn stood and accompanied Ash into the back room they used as a storage area where the small lighting and music system for the store was located. They chatted a bit while Ash activated the music and turned on the interior lights and the outdoor sign. As they left the room, Kahn locked the door behind them.

  Both men walked into the showroom of the store. It was a modest size for comparable businesses in the area, and Kahn and Ash tried to keep well-stocked in inventory. They had a mix of new and exciting models and a couple of older popular firearms. Shotguns were stored behind the counter on a long display rack with a cable lock running through each trigger guard. Some of the handguns were on display under the 12-foot glass counter, and there was a catalog with information about each. Rifles were locked up around the store in a couple different rotary wooden displays. Pistol ammunition was organized behind the cash register counter, around the corner from the shotgun display. Shotgun and rifle ammo were available on the main entry wall for anybody to grab and bring to the counter. Most of the outside walls were covered in eye protection, gloves, shoulder protectors, paper and clay targets, and other assorted gear. There was a large hunting display outside that included some deer stands, feeders, and heaters for winter hunters. Inside on the walls were posters and information for local ranges and nearby feed stores.

  Both Kahn and his brother-in-law were well-trained in firearms. Ash had never been in the military, but h
e was part of a competitive shooting team years ago when he was in high school. As a senior, he went to nationals and traveled to Washington, D.C., to compete against shooters from around the country. Kahn spent time on the range with Ash and the man was an incredibly good shot. He knew his product in the store front and back and acted as a mentor for Kahn and the rest of the staff.

  “I’m going to open the front door, okay?” Kahn said. Ash was behind the counter, so he checked both the register and the display case before giving Kahn a thumbs up. Kahn clicked the heavy lock for the glass door and pushed it open to check for customers outside. Nobody was there, so he went to set up the outdoor gear and make sure the cable locks were secure around the expensive equipment display. As he was finishing his task, a customer pulled up to the building and parked in the small asphalt lot. Kahn checked his cell phone, ten minutes past ten. Not bad for a first customer. He finished up and walked back into the building.

  Ash was helping the customer check out shooting glasses. Kahn nodded to him and walked toward the cash register. The store had a flat screen TV on the wall above the counter that they usually had playing throughout the day. Neither man had turned it on that morning, so Kahn walked behind the register and reached up to press the power button on the side of the console. It flashed to life, muted, and had a national news channel playing from the closing shift the night prior. Kahn hunted for the remote so he could change it to a hunting or fishing program, but after rummaging around the register decided it must have been misplaced. The door chimed and a man walked in carrying a double barreled shotgun, broken, empty chambers clearly visible.