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

eloquent plea for
his help. Then, unexpectedly, Papa received the news we had longed
for. Papa’s friend had been quietly working to obtain official
authorization for Mother’s visa to India. Finally he had won
approval for her departure and Mother was leaving Kabul the
following day.
    Our joy was boundless when Mother came
walking through the airport gate as casually as a weekend visitor,
as though our reunion had not been a matter of life or death. It
had taken us six months to be together again, the longest six
months of all our lives.
    Meanwhile Papa had been busy calling on his
numerous connections, many of which were made during the time he
lived in Europe. He told us that his good friend who worked for the
CIA was coming for a visit. When the American arrived at our home,
Mother and I were shocked to see that the secret agent was a tall,
attractive female.
    After the initial surprise, this made me feel
pulled towards America, a country where women could do anything.
Papa and I were delighted when the agent informed us that she could
have our visas ready by the end of the week and could arrange our
flights at that same time. We were going to America, or so I
thought.
    But Mother was against our settling in
America. She argued: ‘They are all gangsters. We will not fit in
with such people.’
    Papa told her, ‘Yes, some Americans in
Chicago are gangsters, but most Americans are rather ordinary
people.’
    ‘The life will be too tough there, Ajab,’
Mother said. ‘You will have to find work as a taxi driver, or a
doorman. Nadia will have to give up her medical studies. She and I
will scrub floors. Maryam won’t have a chance. She will remain
uneducated. Her job will be flipping hamburgers in a cheap
dive.’
    I bit my lip to keep from laughing. Mother
had seen too many American movies.
    Papa and I put our case for moving to
America.
    Mother and Nadia argued for us to remain in
India.
    Papa faltered when Mother told him that she
had a ‘feeling’ that something terrible would happen should we
leave everything familiar and flee to America.
    I, too, had a ‘feeling’ that Mother was
pretending, and using her ‘instinct’ to convince Papa. But I didn’t
dare make such an accusation. The most important goal had been
reached: our family was once again all together. Anything else, I
could endure, although I did believe we were foolish not to
exchange living in India for living in America, a rich land that
beckoned with luxuriant promise.
    Nadia fully concurred with Mother, and Papa
was unable to resist his wife and eldest daughter. The decision was
made to turn down the American visas and remain in India.
    It was the wrong decision. From that moment,
nothing went right in our lives.
    *
    I loved India from my first day there years
before. I had enjoyed every vacation. But once it was decided that
India would be our permanent home, I was aware of living in a
strange country with foreign customs and languages. My heart told
me that India was not the place for my future. I became
increasingly listless, finding little to my liking.
    For all exiles, the greatest enemy is too
much time. We were all lost. Papa and Mother became so depressed
that their health was affected. Out of despair they decided to
travel to France and visit Uncle Hakim and his family for a
month.
    They were happier upon their return from the
trip, reporting that my dear cousins Zeby and Zarmina were
adjusting well. The big news was that Farid had taken a trip to
London and while there had met an Afghan girl who had stolen his
heart. Farid was getting married!
    We were all shocked because the handsome
Farid had been a dedicated playboy his whole life, with many girls
seeking his attention. Despite our doubts, we were happy if Farid
was happy.
    My spirits lifted hearing about our family
and seeing my parents again after a month’s absence. I didn’t know
the great sadness that loomed in our immediate future.
    Within a week of their return, Papa became
very ill. He was rushed to the hospital, where doctors found new
tumors in his bladder. His cancer had returned. Surgery followed by
other treatments was needed. Once again we lived in fear that we
would lose our rock.
    Papa was in the hospital for several weeks,
and with Nadia in school, Mother and I took turns staying with
Papa. I handled the night shift and Mother managed the day
shift.
    Then one day Mother failed to return to the
hospital.
    When she didn’t appear, we were frantic that
she