Kiss the Dust

by Elizabeth Laird

  It was no good trying to point out to Granny that Tara had no intention of just keeping house all her life. She was going to get a degree and have a good job. She might teach maths, like Mrs Avan, or work in a bank, like her cousin Lana. She’d get married sometime of course, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t work as well. Lana was a perfectly good wife and her house was always lovely, but she managed to earn a good salary as well.

  Granny would never understand all that. To her, a woman’s place was in the home and it was a family disgrace if a husband couldn’t earn enough money to keep his wife in comfort.

  There was no point in trying to talk to Baba either. He was never there. Since Ashti and Uncle Rostam had left he’d been busier than ever, out till all hours, backwards and forwards to Baghdad and Mosul. Tara hardly ever saw him these days, and when she did he looked tired and worried.

  All in all, it wasn’t at all surprising when he went down with a virus. He was up being sick all one night and had to stay at home the next day. He simply didn’t have the energy to get up.

  Tara got home from school early that day. She was in the kitchen, helping Granny to pick over the rice for lunch, when the doorbell rang.

  She jumped up.

  ‘I’ll go,’ she said. ‘It’s probably Leila. She promised to bring back my geography book today.’

  She took a short cut through the empty guest sitting room to the front door, and threw it open.

  ‘Hello, Lei—’ she began. Then she stopped, embarrassed. A man she didn’t know stood on the doorstep. He looked nervously over his shoulder down the empty street before he spoke to her.

  ‘Mr Soran – is he at home?’ he said in Arabic.

  Tara hesitated.

  ‘I – I’m not sure,’ she said doubtfully. The man looked suspicious. He obviously wasn’t a Kurd, and she didn’t think he was one of her father’s usual friends, who often came to visit in the evenings. She wasn’t at all sure that he’d want to see him. She heard Granny coming to investigate, and stepped back to call to her. The man saw his chance, nipped in through the door, and shut it quickly behind him.

  ‘Hey!’ said Tara, indignantly. ‘What do you . . .’

  Granny interrupted her.

  ‘Do you wish to see someone?’ she asked calmly.

  The man mopped his forehead. Tara relaxed a little. He looked more frightened than frightening.

  ‘I must see Mr Soran,’ he said rapidly. ‘It’s very important.’

  ‘I’ll see if he’s at home,’ said Granny, sounding grand and dignified. ‘May I know your name?’

  ‘Oh – yes. Just tell him Mahmoud, from the office.’

  Tara left him standing by the front door and retreated into the guest sitting room. She was looking round to check that everything was ready for a visitor in case Baba invited him in, when she heard Kak Soran’s voice. He’d gone round to the front door through the hall, and he sounded astonished to see his guest.

  ‘Mahmoud!’ she heard him say. ‘Whatever brings you here? What’s the matter, man? You look scared to death.’

  Mr Mahmoud’s words came so fast they seemed to be bubbling out of him.

  ‘They came for you, Mr Soran. Today.’

  Kak Soran seemed to know at once who ‘they’ were.

  ‘How many of them?’ he said.

  ‘Two men. They didn’t wear uniforms. But it was the police. I’m sure of it. They were very polite, said it was a routine matter, not to bother to tell you they called.’

  Tara had intended to slip out through the door that led from the guest sitting room into the kitchen, but she found she couldn’t move. She was holding a cushion she’d picked up in order to plump it up. She stood hugging it to herself.

  Kak Soran said, ‘Why did you come here? It’s dangerous! You should have telephoned.’

  ‘I didn’t dare use the telephone, sir. You never know who’s listening these days. I came as fast as I could without attracting attention – left my car a block away and walked to the house. I don’t think anyone saw me.’

  ‘What time did they come?’

  ‘Ten o’clock this morning. Two hours ago. I told them you’d gone to Baghdad on business.’

  ‘They’ll phone head office to check on me there.’

  ‘No, sir. I thought of that. I told them you were doing business at the bank, sorting out some tax matters. I said you had various calls of a business nature to make in Baghdad and you probably wouldn’t be home until tomorrow evening at the earliest.’

  Kak Soran laughed shakily.

  ‘Mahmoud,’ he said, ‘that was brilliant! I’m extremely grateful to you. If ever I could repay you, in any way . . .’

  ‘No need. I may not be a Kurd, but I don’t have any reason to love the secret police, I can tell you. May I ask – what do you intend to do?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’ll have to think it over.’

  ‘Don’t – don’t think it over for too long. They believed me, I’m sure of it, but I’ve only put them off for a short while. A day at the most. They’ll be after you soon.’

  ‘I know. Don’t worry. I’ve got time enough. I hope you don’t get into trouble yourself over this, Mahmoud. You’ve taken an awful risk coming here.’

  ‘It was nothing. It’s been a pleasure to work for you, believe me. I shall miss you.’

  Tara heard the front door open. There was a pause as the two men looked cautiously up and down the street. Then Mr Mahmoud said, ‘Goodbye, sir. And good luck.’

  The front door had scarcely closed behind him when Tara heard someone open the back door that led into the kitchen from the garden. Her mother had come home from a neighbour’s house, where she’d been all morning.

  ‘Teriska!’ Kak Soran called. Tara heard her mother’s feet come running.

  ‘Soran! Why on earth have you got up? You ought to be in bed.’

  Their voices faded as they went along the passage to the kitchen. Tara put her cushion down. She was shivering. This was it then. They were in real trouble now. But the strange thing was that even though it had come like a bolt out of the blue, with no warning, she didn’t really feel surprised.

  I suppose I’ve been sort of expecting it, she thought.

  She went into the kitchen. Teriska Khan was sitting at the table, chewing her knuckles.

  ‘I heard what that man said,’ Tara told her. ‘What’s Baba going to do?’

  Teriska Khan stood up and went over to the sink. She began to pile up some saucepans that had been left to dry, banging them together with unnecessary violence.

  ‘He’ll have to go tonight.’

  ‘But he’s not well! He’s been sick all day!’

  ‘Try telling that to the secret police! He’ll have to leave as soon as it’s dark, sick or not.’

  ‘Where’s he going?’

  ‘To the mountains, of course, to join Rostam.’

  ‘How long for?’

  ‘How should I know?’ Teriska Khan snapped the cupboard door shut on the last of the saucepans.

  ‘But, Daya, we can’t live here without Baba, just you and me and Hero!’

  ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Tara! Stop going on! Let’s deal with one crisis at a time. You finish clearing up in here. I’d better start getting your father’s things together. It’s a good thing I got his winter coat back from the cleaners yesterday. He’ll need it up in the mountains. It’s still very cold at night up there at this time of year.’

  6

  Tara couldn’t get to sleep that night. She had an awful feeling in the pit of her stomach. Every time she tried to think of comfortable, normal, everyday things, a picture came into her mind of Baba, still feeling sick and shaky, running away in the night like some kind of criminal. She kept telling herself that people got through the mountain roads safely all the time. The pesh murgas were always sending people secretly in and out of town through the army lines from their mountain bases. But then she kept thinking of all the checkpoints on the roads. All it needed was one really a
lert soldier, one mistake from the people Baba was with. Not knowing whether he was safe or not was the worst thing.

  She tossed and turned, and couldn’t make herself comfortable. At last she rolled over and switched on the bedside light. She looked at her watch. It was well after midnight. And where was Granny? She usually went to bed quite early, but her bed was still empty. Tara sat up and swung her feet over on to her beautiful silk bedside rug. Ever since she’d been little, she’d always loved its intricate Persian patterns of leaves and flowers, and had never got up without wriggling her toes into its soft, cool pile. She did it now automatically. Its silky feel was comforting. Home was still home, even though Baba and Ashti had gone.

  Tara opened the bedroom door. She could hear Granny and Daya arguing in the family sitting room. She shook her long hair back from her face, and went down the corridor. They didn’t seem to notice her come into the room. Granny was sitting cross-legged on the carpet, her back stiff as a plank, her arms waving about as they always did when she had something on her mind. Tara sat down beside her.

  ‘Don’t be silly, Teriska. Of course you can’t stay on here without Soran. There’s no man in the house at all! It’s out of the question. You’ve got to think about Tara. She’s at a very sensitive age just now. You know perfectly well she’s got to be properly looked after. You and I just can’t do it. You know what it’s been like since the war started. Dreadful things going on – do you know what Suzan said?’

  Teriska Khan didn’t want to know what Suzan said. She was sitting bolt upright too, and a red spot glowed in each cheek. She wasn’t used to answering Granny back but she was obviously so upset she was past caring.

  ‘You can’t really be telling me that we’ve got to leave home, Mother! We couldn’t possibly! Anyway, things are bound to get better soon. This business with Soran – it’ll all blow over. It’s got to! It did last time. He may be closely involved with the pesh murga leaders, but at least he’s kept everything absolutely secret. Anyway, how do we know that man Mahmoud was telling the truth about those people coming today? He seemed a bit fishy to me. Why did he come here and not phone up or something? I don’t believe there’s any real danger. Soran’ll be home soon, and . . .’

  ‘Is that what he told you?’

  Teriska Khan shook her head reluctantly.

  ‘No, but only this morning, Leila’s mother, Mrs Amina, was telling me . . .’

  Granny snorted.

  ‘Don’t fool yourself, my girl. What does that woman know about anything? She’s only half Kurdish herself! This war might go on for years. Anyway, what about Ashti? You’ve got to face facts. He’s a deserter as far as they’re concerned. If you don’t join up once your papers have been sent that’s what you are – a deserter. Ashti’s committed a capital offence, and Kak Soran’s committed a dozen at least, I shouldn’t wonder. They’d be mad to show their faces in Sulaimaniya. Look what happened to your cousin Zhen’s family! And those people we know in Mosul, the ones who ran that TV import business. Then there was—’

  ‘Oh, don’t! Stop it!’ Teriska Khan put her fingers in her ears. ‘Don’t tell me any more awful stories, Mother. I can’t bear it.’

  ‘Do you mean,’ said Tara, ‘that Baba and Ashti won’t ever come back? Ever?’

  ‘They will, of course they will,’ said Teriska Khan, groping for a tissue.

  ‘No, they won’t,’ said Granny firmly. ‘They can’t. Not until this war’s over and we get a new government, anyway. You should leave here at once, Teriska, and join them.’

  Teriska Khan blew her nose.

  ‘Leave? Leave home?’ said Tara. ‘How long for?’ She felt bewildered.

  Granny patted her knee.

  ‘Don’t ask me, dear. I wish I knew when this war will end. So does everyone else.’

  Teriska Khan’s eyes were wandering round her lovely sitting room. Granny saw and jabbed a finger at her.

  ‘I didn’t bring you up to cling to luxury while your husband and son struggle along without home comforts in the mountains!’ she said accusingly. ‘The family’s always got to come first, before carpets, and sofas, and goodness knows what else. Whatever happens, you must stick together.’

  ‘You know perfectly well, Daya,’ interrupted Teriska Khan furiously, ‘that the family means more to me than anything else in the world. But we can’t just pack up and go! There’s a whole lot of business to see to. The house, the car . . . And Tara’s got her exams coming up very soon now, and Hero’s only just started in kindergarten. Their education . . .’

  Granny sniffed.

  ‘You know my views on education,’ she said crushingly. ‘It does nothing but fill girls’ heads with irreligious nonsense, and turn them against their homes and their husbands. Let them study the Koran. That’s all the book learning they need. When I was a girl . . .’

  Tara and Teriska Khan exchanged looks. They’d heard this conversation a dozen times before. Tara knew that the well-worn arguments would go backwards and forwards for another half hour at least.

  ‘Granny,’ she said, as soon as Granny paused for breath, ‘do you really think we’ve got to go away?’

  ‘Now listen, my dear,’ said Granny, taking one of Tara’s hands in hers and patting it gently. ‘You’re a big girl now. Almost grown up. I was getting my wedding clothes together when I was your age. You’ve got to understand that it’s all for your own safety. What your mother doesn’t seem to grasp is that it’s just plain dangerous for you all to stay here. It’s not only the pesh murgas who are wanted men. It’s like I always say, “Sit near the forge and you’ll get sparks in your face.” Whole families of the pesh murgas are arrested sometimes. And I don’t have to tell you that women prisoners are not treated with respect. Why, the stories I’ve heard . . .’

  Tara shuddered. Granny had told her some of them only yesterday.

  ‘But I need time,’ said Teriska Khan desperately. ‘I can’t just walk out like that. I’ve got to pack everything, to get hold of some money. I mean there’s hundreds of things . . .’

  ‘Pack?’ Granny sounded scornful. ‘You can’t take all this with you.’ She swept out an arm, as if she was dismissing all the rugs and cushions, the little tables with their lamps and ornaments, the tapestries on the walls and the TV set and video in their own special cabinet. ‘You can take as much as you can load into one taxi, and you shouldn’t bother yourself with anything except some warm clothes, a few cooking things and medicines. Oh, and blankets of course. By the way, Teriska, did you do what I told you with your jewellery?’

  The fight seemed to have gone out of Teriska Khan. She nodded.

  ‘If you’ll take my advice,’ said Granny firmly, ‘you’ll leave as soon as possible. Tomorrow.’

  ‘Aren’t you coming with us, Granny?’ said Tara anxiously. Granny might be very strict sometimes, and she didn’t understand about school, but she was so wise and solid, such a rock on which you felt you could lean, that Tara felt an awful sense of panic at the idea of leaving her.

  ‘I’m going back to Suzan in Baghdad, dear,’ said Granny, ‘once I’ve made sure you’ve all got off safely. The mountains are no place for an old woman like me. I’d only get in the way and hold you all up. Anyway, Suzan needs me. Now take that anxious look off your face and help me get up. It’s time we were all in bed. No one’s going to come for you tonight, Tara, so we can all go and get some sleep.’

  It was hard to see how Granny could know, but she sounded so certain that Tara just obeyed her, got back into bed and fell asleep at once, and it wasn’t until she woke up the next morning that she realized she had probably slept in her own bed in her old home for the very last time.

  7

  The next day was Friday, the one day of the week when schools and offices were closed. Granny refused to break her normal routine. She went off into Sulaimaniya to the mosque. Even though she never usually missed Friday prayers, and spent several hours in the women’s gallery every week, Tara somehow hadn’t expected her
to go this time.

  ‘I didn’t think there’d be time today,’ she said, feeling a bit let down as Granny put on her black veil over her dress and got ready for the taxi that Tara had called for her.

  ‘We need all the prayers we can get right now,’ said Granny. She put her arms round Tara and gave her an extra tight hug. Tara felt the old arms trembling and looked up into Granny’s puckered face.

  ‘You’re a good girl,’ said Granny. She seemed about to say something else, but the taxi driver rang the doorbell and she thought better of it.

  When Tara shut the door behind Granny the house felt strangely empty. Teriska Khan, who’d got up in the small hours and had been frantically packing things away in cupboards and cleaning the cooker and defrosting the fridge, had gone out to see her cousin, a lawyer.

  ‘Lucky for us your father had almost sold the car before he left,’ she said to Tara. ‘I’ve only got to hand over the papers and we’ll have the money in our pockets.’

  Tara hated the idea that she’d gone for her last ride in the big, comfortable Mercedes, but there was no time to brood about it.

  ‘Get your things ready while I’m out,’ Teriska Khan said before she left. ‘I’ve packed most of your clothes already, but you can take one small bag of your own things. Now do be sensible, darling. The village isn’t the place for silly shoes, and there’s no electricity so don’t bother with your hairdryer, or records, or anything like that. We’ll leave sometime this afternoon, if we can. You’ll be all right while I’m out. I’m sure they won’t come on a Friday. And look after Hero.’

  Tara went to the bedroom and looked about despairingly. How could she possibly pack all her favourite things into one small bag? She looked into the cupboard and touched the strap of the lovely handbag Granny had given her only last year. Then she saw an old fluffy toy she’d had since she was a baby. She looked up at the poster of Najleh Fathee, her favourite actress, that smiled down at her from the wall. What was the point in taking any of them?