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

weeks later the DNA test results came
back.
    They confirmed that Duran was my son.
    Things began to move quickly after that. The
American Embassy provided him with a passport and we booked flights
to take us to Virginia. Duran had decided he wanted to live with
Nadia and her daughter Suzie in Virginia and attend school there. I
would take my son to my sister, and then I would vacation there
every year, as I had when my father was alive. I would see my son
at least six months out of every year.
    I was in heaven!
    Nadia and Suzie were waiting for us at the
airport. Everyone was ecstatic . . . except Duran. My son seemed
strangely unmoved by all the excitement of being reunited with his
mother’s family. When we arrived at Nadia’s home, I showed Duran
all the toys and games I had purchased for him over the years. I
had saved them all.
    Duran was callously uninterested. ‘Why don’t
you give them to your other son?’ he said with an indifferent
shrug.
    Then Duran announced to Nadia: ‘I must have a
computer and email. There are friends I must contact in Kabul.’
    Nadia fidgeted nervously. She had been warned
by the state department to be cautious, that after seventeen years
of fighting to keep his son away from my family, Kaiss was not
likely to give in without a struggle. She spoke to him firmly.
‘Yes, Duran, you can have a computer and you can email your
friends, but you cannot tell them where you are. You must not give
them our telephone number or address. It is dangerous. Just as we
will protect you, you must protect us.’
    Duran didn’t answer but his face flushed
red.
    He then insisted he must have a post office
address of his own.
    My son had completed one year at Kabul
University where he had maintained an A average. I now enrolled him
at NOVA, the Northern Virginia Community College, an institution
with many foreign students. We thought Duran would feel at home
there and could transfer to a bigger school later. Duran insisted
on getting a job on top of his studies. Nadia’s office hired him
for two days a week and he got a second job at McDonald’s. I was
relieved that he was working hard at school and at work.
    I didn’t want to leave my son, but my husband
and little boy were waiting for me in Saudi Arabia. As he seemed
settled, I felt comfortable leaving Duran for a few months. I
returned to Saudi Arabia, telling Duran I would soon be back for a
holiday in the States.
    Two weeks after I arrived in Jeddah, Khalid
and I were shocked to receive a frantic call from Nadia. She told
me my son could no longer live with her. ‘Maryam, I want your son
out of my house right now.’
    Khalid and I thought that the crisis would
pass so Duran could have the stablility of remaining in school. But
to be on the safe side, Khalid applied for a visa for Big Duran to
come to Jeddah.
    As we had hoped, Nadia and Duran made up
their quarrel, and he stayed for three more weeks. Then they got
into another argument because Duran wanted to go clubbing and Nadia
thought he was too young. Duran marched out, and went to stay with
Aunt Shagul until his Saudi Arabian visa came through.
    One night when Khalid and out were out at a
dinner party, our telephone rang at home. When my maid answered,
she said a man’s voice began screaming at her in English, asking
where I was. When she told him I was out, the man asked to speak to
Little Duran. When my young child answered the phone, the voice
screamed at him, ‘I am going to kill your mother, Duran. And I
going to kill you too!’
    My young son was traumatized. We all thought
it must have been Kaiss, although we could not imagine how he had
obtained our unlisted home telephone number.
    Big Duran arrived in Jeddah a few weeks
later. Little Duran was so excited, finally getting to meet the big
brother he had heard so much about for years.
    When I looked upon the sweet sight of my two
sons walking side by side, my heart was filled with joy. How could
I have suspected that the threatening caller that had terrified my
little one was my eldest son?

    A happy mother dances
with Little Duran (left)
     

Chapter
XXVI
    I couldn’t resist Big Duran, but he could
easily resist me, and those I loved. Even on that first evening, a
time of the greatest joy for his mother, my elder son was cold and
unfriendly. He even ignored his little brother, who was clamoring
to enjoy a warm relationship with his long-lost big sibling.
    I began to fret almost immediately, but
Khalid told me not to worry,