A Far Away Home (15 page)

The footsteps didn't climb down into the truck bed, but instead climbed back down
to the ground. Naeem was also sweating, trying not to let anyone see. He went into
a teahouse and took his time having tea and ordering nawn. He thought about ordering
extra but decided against it for fear of raising suspicion about taking some along.

Shireen and Ali kept completely quiet, waiting, waiting. At last, they heard Naeem
climb back into the cab, start the truck, and shift into gear. The truck began its
journey further west. They spent the rest of the day and the next night inside their
cozy box. They weren't so much cold as hungry and thirsty, but, they and the truck
driver realized he couldn't take the chance of anyone seeing him going back to bring
them anything. Finally, about noon of the next day, Naeem stopped between towns,
looked back and ahead down the
road, and climbed into the back to bring them some
nawn and tea. They talked briefly. He said they would be in Iran after dark that
evening. He was still worried about the border. He hoped the border guards on the
Afghan side would be the usual guards he knew and saw on his trips. Eventually, Ali
and Shireen slept.

They woke when the bumping of the truck stopped. They could hear someone talking,
though they couldn't make out what was said. They waited for the sound of someone
climbing up the back of the truck. It never came. The truck started out again, then
stopped again in a short time. This time the talking was closer. Apparently the driver
had not stepped down. Ali recognized the Iranian accent of the speaker. They were
in Iran!

***

When Ali knocked on his door that night in Muhshed, Shireen wasn't sure how she was
feeling. She was worried about being accepted by Ali's family. She felt like she
was the cause of him being separated from them for so long. She also felt like an
intruder; she had never met his wife or children. Maybe they wouldn't be able to
understand her because of
the difference in Iranian and Afghan Farsi. She also knew
she wasn't looking her best, having ridden in the back of a truck for two days. She
must look a mess.

Her fears were alleviated when the door opened to silhouette three surprised but
joyous greeters. After hugging Ali, they turned their attention to Shireen. Ali introduced
each. “Shireen, this is my wonderful wife, Nafisa.”

“Welcome to our home. We have been hoping you could come. You must be very tired.
Come in. Let's have some tea and talk.” This was Nafisa putting the doubts of Shireen
about being welcome to rest.

“Shireen, this is my son Hassan. Don't you think he looks a lot like dad?”

Hassan was smiling. “Dad told us about you. I know you're a teacher. Could you help
me with my homework?” Shireen smiled and nodded.

“And, Shireen, this is Shireen.”

“Aunt Shireen, I've been waiting a long time to say that. You're my very first aunt.”

Now Shireen (aunt Shireen) was crying. She had been alone for such a long time. “I'm
sorry. I didn't mean to cry.
I'm not sad. Ali, Nafisa, Hassan, and Shireen, thank
you, thank you for bringing me into your home.”

They had some green tea, some aush, some cookies, and lots of talk and laughter.
Ali was home with his family, and Shireen was safe. Sharidure seemed far away.

Chapter Thirteen

Americans in Afghanistan and Ali
Brings His Family Back Home

That fall they heard on the radio the news of the Americans arriving in Afghanistan.
The men of the Northern Alliance and the Americans swept toward Kabul. They didn't
hear any news about Bamiyan and whether the Taliban were still there. It was Naeem,
the truck driver, who told them about the Taliban fleeing back to Pakistan. Bamiyan
and Sharidure were free of them. People were playing music and flying kites. Life
was returning to normal in the Hazarajat.

“Did you see our home in Sharidure?”

“Not really. The town seemed quiet and I didn't see a lot of destruction. I think
the Taliban left in a hurry. I only stopped at the teahouse for lunch.”

That evening Ali and Shireen began to plan their return
to their faraway home.

***

At first, Shireen insisted she should go with Ali. “It's my home, too. The girls
will need a teacher.”

“Shireen, let me go first to be sure it's safe. There still might be Taliban around.
If it is safe, I'll let you know, and you can come. It would also make me feel better
about leaving Nafisa here with our children. You could be a big help to her.”

In the end, they agreed that Ali should go to see what exactly the situation was
in Sharidure and Shireen would stay in Muhshed to help Nafisa with the home, possibly
even teach to earn money for the family. When Ali went to tell Nafisa about the plan,
she was the first to speak. “Ali, I know you need to go back to Sharidure. Don't
worry about us. My family is here to help us.”

Ali was so relieved to hear her say this. He told her about what he and Shireen planned,
and Nafisa was pleased that Shireen was going to stay. She told him how much she
would miss him. She didn't say anything about what they would do if Sharidure was
safe and whether they would go there to live.

When Ali left that morning with Naeem in the truck
back to Afghanistan, it was a
sad farewell to his children. They cried and asked when he would be back. “You know
about how the snow comes in the winter. I promise to be back before it gets here.
Your job is to learn everything you can in school and to take care of your mom and
aunt Shireen. I think I can send you letters again. I'll be back soon.”

When they got to the Afghan-Iranian border, the change was noticeable. There was
no one there. There were no Taliban checking the trucks. Ali's hopes grew as they
went east, toward Sharidure. When they came around the last curve in the road into
Sharidure, Ali couldn't wait to get back to his home, maybe for the final time. He
was thinking about what to do first. The truck stopped at the teahouse, where he
saw several familiar faces, and no bearded black-turbaned Taliban. The people there
greeted him warmly. They asked about his family. He asked about their family. “Are
you well? Your family?”

“Fine, we're all well.”

He didn't ask about the Taliban.

He left the teahouse and said goodbye to Naeem, the truck driver. “Thank you very
much. May peace be with you.”
Ali walked toward his home. When he got there, it was
only a pile of broken bricks and wooden beams. Even the compound walls had been smashed.
There was nothing left of his home. He could guess what happened. When the Taliban
couldn't find Shireen and him, they must have been very angry, so they took it out
on their home. He walked around, looking for their well and garden. Thankfully, they
hadn't destroyed either. Tomorrow, he would start to rebuild his home. For tonight,
he could sleep in his father's shop, if it was still standing.

It was. Maybe the Taliban hadn't realized it belonged to his family. Maybe they did
and were watching it to see if he would come back, so he stopped across the street
and looked carefully at the shop. There was no sign of anyone in or around the shop.
He climbed up on a rooftop to see the whole area better. He lay down, so no one on
the street would see him on the roof. There were no black-bearded men with turbans
that he could see. He decided to quietly walk by a back street to the government
building to see if there were Taliban guards there. The open area in front of the
building was empty. Usually there would have been children playing,
rolling hoops
or playing games. Tonight, it was only still, only empty, only quiet. He thought
of the times he and his friends played there. That seemed long ago. He decided to
spend the night at the airfield, in the little shed he helped build. In the morning,
he would look again for the Taliban.

He slept fitfully, his sleep full of dreams, or maybe just thoughts of what had been
in Sharidure. The morning sun lit up the frame around the door to the shed. Ali sat
up, stretched, yawned, then stood up to walk down to the town below. He took a back
route, avoiding any people who might be up and about. The Taliban were a worry. He
watched the streets from above the town, seeing people leave their homes, seeing
a town awaken, seeing the teahouse open, the street in front of it sprinkled with
water, then swept, owposhee. There were no signs of any Taliban, so he decided they
were no longer there.

Ali spent that first morning in the shop. Several people stopped by, welcoming him
back, asking about his family. One asked if he would be doing carpentry. He decided
he would, needing money to live. He brought some from Iran, but if he intended to
stay, he would need a way to live.

The teahouse was open, so he went there for lunch. There was some talk of the Taliban,
but no one had seen them. Was it possible they were gone? After lunch, he went again
to his home, now destroyed. To bring his family, he would have to rebuild it and
he started to do just that. He laid out the outlines, using stones to mark the outside
walls, then went back to the shop to begin the frame. He decided to build his new
home a little bigger than the old one. His new family was larger than the one he
grew up in. Shireen would need a bedroom and perhaps a study for her books, with
a table to use to do her homework from school. Surely, she would want to teach again.
Someone at the teahouse asked about that. It was a good feeling to be planning his
family's future. It was also good to be working.

He sent a letter with Naeem, the truck driver from Bamiyan, when the truck came through
on its way to Iran. He told Nafisa about the shop and how he was rebuilding the home.
He even asked her about how to design the house. Naeem would be back next week with
a letter in return. Meanwhile, he kept an eye out for Taliban. No one had seen them
for a week. A normal life was slowly returning to
Sharidure. Children were playing
with hoops, flying kites, and even talking about school.

When the letter from Nafisa came on the truck, Ali's hopes got even higher. She asked
him when he wanted her and the children to come to Sharidure. He worked late on the
house that night. Several people asked if they could help. After a week, the compound
walls were up. After two weeks, the walls of the house were finished. After three
weeks, the roof was on. He started on the inside walls, following Nafisa's wishes.
He ordered glass for the windows from Bamiyan. Naeem brought them, wrapped carefully
in cloth and cotton. Ali set the window glass into the frames he built, and he started
living in the house. He carefully wrote about the new home to Nafisa and asked if
she and the children could come see it. When her letter came back, she told him that
she and their children, Shireen his sister, and her father would come on the next
trip Naeem made from Muhshed to Sharidure.

***

The next three years were like heaven. Ali had his family back with him. Nafisa and
Shireen restarted a school for the children of Sharidure. Ali and his father-in-law
made
the carpentry shop the biggest business in town. There were many things to be
rebuilt. Other families came back to restart their family businesses. The farmers
had good crops.

Oxen Team • By Rex Blumhagen

The winters weren't too severe, but there was enough snow to make the rivers run
and let Ali teach Shireen and Hassan the joys of sliding down hills on sleds he made.

There was a new governor in Bamiyan, Afghanistan's first woman governor. She wanted
schools and electricity for Bamiyan's people. One of the roads from Kabul was being
hard-surfaced. Even the Buddhas the Taliban destroyed were getting attention, as
there were plans to restore them. A hotel and restaurant were built to make tourists
feel they
could again come to Bamiyan. There was even talk of an ancient reclining
Buddha somewhere in the Bamiyan valley. There had always been stories about this
giant Buddha that disappeared.

There was, however, talk of the Taliban gaining footholds not so far away in Wardak
and Oruzgon. The Kabul government wanted all the provinces to give up their weapons,
so there could not again be militias to fight for control of Afghanistan.

***

At the carpentry shop Ali told Nafisa's father, Sayeed, about what he heard that
morning. “The Taliban are stopping trucks on the road from Wardak. They demand money
and take what they want from the trucks. That road comes into Bamiyan over a pass.
My guess is that they will try to again take over Bamiyan.”

“Are these people likely to get into Bamiyan?”

“Some of the men have been saying we have to again get weapons to defend ourselves,
because the government may not be able to protect us. I have been meeting with some
of the men of Sharidure to plan how to protect us if we have to.
My father was killed
by the Taliban. I ran from them when I was younger, but I won't run away again. This
is my home. We have all agreed to fight if we have to. Before, when the Taliban were
in control of most of Afghanistan, the last two places they didn't have control were
the Panjsheer and the Hazarajat. They never did get control of the Panjsheer and
the only reason they took over here was the help they got from Pakistan. It will
be much harder for Pakistan to directly help them now. The Americans and Europeans
will keep them from doing that up here, but we need weapons to protect ourselves
from the Taliban in Wardak and Oruzgon. The people there don't have any way to protect
themselves, and the Afghan army and police aren't able to.”