For the Love of a Son: One Afghan Woman's Quest for Her Stolen Child

criminals. Obviously my teenage son was
being used a pawn by his father to increase his prestige with the
Taliban rulers.
    Just as I thought things couldn’t get worse,
they did.
    I was in Jeddah on 11 September 2001, and
watched the horrific scenes coming from America on TV. I bellowed
at the sight of all the death and destruction. I loved America and
Americans, the country and people who had welcomed me when my own
country was burning, and I couldn’t bear to see innocents suffering
on such a shocking scale.
    Once we heard the news that Osama Bin Laden
had been behind the attacks, and that he was being protected by the
Taliban in Afghanistan, it was obvious that their days were now
numbered. America was bound to take military action in response to
the attack on their soil.
    When American bombs started falling on my
homeland, I came very close to a complete nervous breakdown,
because for all I knew my son was living where those bombs were
targeted. God had kept him safe during the Russian war and the
civil war, but now Afghanistan was at war with America, the most
powerful nation in the world! Would Afghanistan ever know peace
again?
    I held the Koran and prayed. ‘Allah, please
save the good people in Afghanistan. Allah, please save my son.’
The bombs falling on Afghanistan were so devastating that we heard
reports people were simply being evaporated. Would my eyes never
see my son again? I went to Mecca and held on to the door of the
Ka’bah, asking Allah to please keep those bombs away from all
innocent people, but especially from my beloved son.
    By December, American ground troops were
moving in, pushing out the Taliban as the new rulers of my
homeland. Friends in Afghanistan reported that Kaiss was still with
the Taliban and that my son was with his father. My biggest fear
was that the American military would kill my teenage son, believing
him to be Taliban.
    I wrote endless letters to the American
Embassy, telling the officials there all I knew about Kaiss and
Duran, pleading with them to look for my son and return him to me.
I was devastated to be told that since Duran had turned eighteen in
January, he was now considered an adult and out of the jurisdiction
of American authority. My son was free to live with whom he pleased
in the eyes of American law. The only way my son would return to me
was of his own free will.
    That’s when I heard from my cousin Farid that
he was going to Afghanistan, to reclaim and reopen our family
businesses.
    I was alarmed. Outside of a very few
American-controlled pockets, Afghanistan was still a wild and
violent place. ‘But you have a good job in Paris! Please don’t risk
your life for this, Farid.’
    ‘But this is a special time, Maryam. Our
country needs patriotic citizens.’ He added: ‘Besides, someone has
to go in and find your son!’
    My heart skipped a beat. Farid had always
been my special protector, even now I was a woman grown and
married. Farid was a miracle worker. Perhaps he would bring
Duran back to me at last.
    But before Farid arrived in Kabul, I had a
call from another relative, who revealed the most astonishing news:
he had managed to meet with Duran! I was told: ‘Maryam, your son is
a happy boy. He speaks fluent English and he is a computer whiz. He
has started his first year of college.’
    ‘I am coming to Kabul right now!’ I shouted
down the phone.
    ‘No, Maryam, he does not want to see you. I
told him about you, Maryam. He knows now that he has a mother, but
he has been brainwashed. He believes you sold him to his father for
$5,000.’
    I put the phone down in turmoil. Although I
was sad to hear that my son wanted nothing to do with his mother, I
was jubilant to have confirmation that he was alive and that he
knew I existed. Well, it was a start, at least.
    That was the day hope returned, and my heart
told me I would finally be reunited with my son. Perhaps not
tomorrow, or even within the year, but I would see my long-lost
son. But knowing that his father would continue to poison him
against me, I wondered if it wouldn’t be best to see my son on
neutral territory. Perhaps I could somehow get him to America?
    My sister Nadia travelled to Kabul in the
spring of 2002. While there she tried to see Duran, but she found
out he was no longer in Kabul. Nadia called me with the information
she had uncovered. ‘Maryam, at least you don’t have to worry about
Duran’s safety. Kaiss has switched sides once again. First he was a
supporter of