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

calling out, ‘It is Shair Khail,
the groom’s elder brother! Stay down! He will kill us
all! ’
    Shair was indeed furious. His guests had no
respect for his family and their traditional customs.
    Someone in the crowd shouted out that here
music, dancing and singing were forbidden in mixed company. A few
lucid guests began separating the men from the women, ordering the
women to enter the women’s quarters. There they would celebrate the
wedding with the Khail ladies, while the men would make merry in
the courtyard. The men were to be entertained by dancers, too, but
their dancers were men dressed up as women. In the world of Shair
Khail this was the proper way to conduct a wedding.
    The ceremony took place without any further
trouble and my father was finally married to the woman he had
chosen. My mother soon discovered that her brothers had been right,
that her husband was different from other Afghan men. He was truly
interested in her as an equal partner. The young couple spent many
hours with each other, just enjoying one another’s company. My
mother soon realized that she had nearly missed out on marrying the
one man in Afghanistan who would treat her respectfully and would
bring her happiness.
    My father’s family was less enamored of the
union.
    My mother was the most educated woman to
marry into the Khail family so far, and problems were bound to
arise. My parents were expected to live at the galah, and so they
did, moving into a large apartment over the main gate that in the
past had been reserved for guests.
    Afghan couples rarely go on honeymoon, but
instead settle into their new life as a married couple at home.
After ten days my father returned to his military duties and my
mother resumed her career at the Malalai High School.
    Shair Khan seethed at the brazenness of a
woman under his galah roof defying him by going out to work and
earn her own money. As the head of the clan, he forbade her to
leave the galah without the cover of a beige-coloured burqa, a
hideous outfit my mother hated. The burqa was draped over her head
and covered her completely down to her toes. A tiny embroidered
mesh over her face was her only window to the outside world. The
ancient code of dress was an indignity for my mother, a woman
accustomed to wearing fashionable western dress.
    My mother’s worst fears were coming true. Her
enlightened husband was kindly and loving, but he was unable to
fully protect her from his more traditional brother.
    Her prison became smaller and tighter when
Shair Khan discovered she was pregnant. Shair became so incensed
that a pregnant woman would still leave the galah that my mother
was eventually forced to resign her position at the girls’ school
and remain behind the walls of the fort.
    Things were not going well.
    My mother was busy with her pregnancy so she
did not complain much at first. Her own mother was so worried for
her daughter’s well-being that she sent Nanny Muma to live with my
mother to care for her during her pregnancy and to assist with the
new baby. Muma was an ideal companion for my mother and she
seamlessly blended into our family.
    All Afghan families pray for a male as the
first-born, so there was grief and anger when my sister Nadia was
born on 21 March 1958. Shair, who was the father of nine sons and
three daughters himself, was so enraged at the news he refused to
congratulate my parents or to acknowledge the child.
    The remainder of the Khail household was
equally unpleasant to my mother, treating her the same way they had
Grandmother Mayana and her three daughters. While my mother was not
forced to do housework, she was continually scorned. Thankfully,
she was a strong-minded woman who could disregard her husband’s
insensitive family. She kept herself busy with little Nadia.
Grandmother Mayana was as kind as an angel and tried to do all she
could to help her daughter-in-law. The four women in my father’s
life, his wife, mother, daughter and kindly nanny, would always
keep a close lookout for each other.
    But after Nadia was born, Shair Khan became
even more harsh with my father, asserting that the birth of a
useless daughter had doomed their relationship. The wives and
daughters and servants of Shair felt the shift and they followed
their leader, becoming even more hostile.
    Servants in the galah were responsible for
laundering all the clothes of the Khail family. Suddenly my
mother’s clothes were returned to her damaged, with holes and
tears. My mother