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

Perhaps your son is not speaking the
truth.’
    I looked over at Duran, who was involved in
an animated dialogue with two other smugglers. ‘That may be the
case. But it is a chance I must take.’
    I felt compelled to change the topic of
discussion, and said to the kindly man, ‘I wonder if I would
recognize my country now. I wonder if the buildings that were
landmarks in my youth are still standing.’
    The smuggler lifted one eyebrow. ‘Very few.
All our treasures are gone. Endless war and then the Taliban
destroyed everything that was beautiful.’
    I felt so very sad for my country. It had
enjoyed a burst of prosperity during my childhood, but those years
were long gone, and the worst times in Afghanistan’s troubled
history had followed. Now all was lost. For the first time in years
I wondered what had happened to my family’s treasure, like my
grandfather Hassen’s stamp collection and my own precious coin
collection. It seemed a long long time ago that I had left them
carefully hidden in my room. Had the building been turned into
rubble? Or, had some child found them?
    The following day we travelled to Islamabad
so that Duran and I could have our DNA tests and he could obtain
his US passport. Although I knew it was possible that Kaiss had set
a trap, and that this young man was one of the many thousands of
orphans left behind in the conflict, my heart told me that this
young man was indeed my son. But I knew the Americans would never
accept a mother’s instinct over scientific proof.
    The American Embassy had been notified of our
mission. They were businesslike in taking samples from us both and
informed us that we must wait two to six weeks for the results.
    I was aghast. ‘Two to six weeks? Where will
we stay? We can’t stay where we are, a cheap hotel with smugglers.’
I looked around. ‘Can we remain here?’
    The embassy officials didn’t care about my
predicament. It was not in their interest to become personally
involved.
    There was nothing to do but to go back to the
people smugglers. Those men agreed to guard us and keep us safe for
the duration of our enforced stay.
    Duran treated me warily, his moods remaining
unpredictable. One moment he would share his heart with me, the
next he would turn on me with rage and suspicion.
    One evening Duran demanded: ‘So what if he
hit you? That was no reason to get a divorce. He was your husband.
And a husband has the right to hit his wife.’
    I shuddered. What had Kaiss taught my son?
‘No, a good husband does not hit his wife, Duran,’ I replied
carefully.
    ‘It is written in the Koran that a husband
can hit his wife. It is allowed.’
    I stammered, ‘Well, it is not allowed in the
United States.’
    His eyes were averted, he would not look at
me directly. ‘Well, my father says that every woman needs to be
beaten. Otherwise they do not know their place.’
    ‘Did your father beat your stepmother?’
    Duran slowly nodded. ‘Yes. I hated hearing
her scream and cry. He would not allow her to see her family. She
could not attend female wedding parties. She had to stay at home
all the time. I remember one time when he was beating her up, she
threatened to kidnap me and disappear, that he would never see me
again.’
    I made a small noise in my throat. All my
worst fears had turned out to be true. Duran had indeed been
beaten. He had seen his stepmother beaten. Kaiss was still a
sadist, and my son had been trapped in his father’s sadistic
world.
    ‘After that threat, my stepmother became
pregnant. And then my father just kept her pregnant so she couldn’t
run away. I have seven brothers and sisters, you know.’
    ‘Duran, I am so sorry.’
    Duran laughed bitterly. ‘It doesn’t matter.
It made me into a man.’
    I felt a chill.
    Several times during those weeks, I caught
Duran slipping my cellphone from my purse and making calls to
Afghanistan. I remembered Farid’s warnings.
    I quietly asked him, ‘Duran, are you calling
your father?’
    He replied curtly, ‘I don’t tell him
anything. I just wanted to hear his voice. And he wants to hear my
voice.’
    ‘Duran, we risked our lives to meet. If your
father discovers our location, it is possible he will come and kill
us both.’
    Duran laughed harshly. ‘He would only kill
you, not me.’
    I nodded numbly.
    I prayed for the DNA test results, assuring
myself that all would be well if only I could get Duran out of the
region, away from his father’s influence and into America.
    Three