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

believe Kaiss.’
    But then I heard that when Uncle Hakim
revealed the good news to his family, he was aghast when his two
daughters screeched in dismay. ‘No! He is horrible. He is mean and
violent! You must stop the wedding.’
    I pleaded with my father. ‘Something is
wrong! Please, Papa, postpone the wedding until we can at least
investigate these accusations.’
    Papa, however, was furious that I would
believe such malicious gossip about a man who was such a fine
catch.
    Only after the wedding was I told that
another relative living in America had also been alarmed when told
of my match by her son-in-law, and had called Auntie Shagul. ‘I
know that evil man. He is a criminal. He went to prison in
Afghanistan for assault. You must stop the wedding.’
    My auntie shook her head. ‘It is too
late.’
    ‘You will save your niece’s life. For God’s
sake, call her father.’
    ‘It is too late.’ My auntie never called.
    Overcome with misgivings, I was limp with
despair on the night of my wedding. Trapped, unable to find the
courage to shame my father, embarrass my relatives and anger my
groom, I slipped on my beautiful white wedding dress and
fashionable head-dress. I looked in the mirror. I looked pretty on
the outside, but was mangled by despair and fear on the inside. I
wished I had the courage to flee the building, to find a car and
drive far away.
    But such an action would horribly wound my
father. It would surely kill him. I could not do it.
    I said my vows, and then I was married. It
only seemed to take a moment. After the wedding there was a huge
reception in a wedding hall. Kaiss strutted about like a proud
peacock, accepting congratulations from well-wishers, while I hung
back, regret washed with fear.
    Kaiss and I soon left the wedding for our new
home, which was in a high-rise apartment building next to the hotel
where he worked.
    For some reason none of the women in my
family took me aside to prepare me for what I needed to know about
the wedding night. Kaiss jumped me the moment we walked into his
apartment, ripping at my clothes and pushing me into the bedroom.
Never having been intimate with a man before, I was stunned and
frightened by his assult. Kaiss was so rough with me that first
night of married ‘bliss’ that I ended up in a hospital emergency
room.
    After I received medical care, I wept like a
child. ‘Take me home to my father,’ I spat at Kaiss. I hated
married life as much as I had feared, and after only a few
hours.
    Kaiss drove me home and I rushed inside to
see my Papa. I sat on his lap weeping. ‘I want to stay here, Papa,’
I pleaded.
    Papa asked, ‘What on earth is going on?’
    ‘Her stomach hurts,’ Kaiss said in a funny
voice, rolling his eyes at my father’s puzzlement.
    Papa did not know how to deal with such a
sensitive matter. He needed his wife to handle such a delicate
female problem.
    Papa pushed me away lightly. ‘Go home,
Maryam. Go home to your husband.’
    My shoulders slumped. I had nowhere to turn.
I was in a nightmare, a nightmare of my own making.
    Kaiss smirked and led me away. We returned to
his apartment where he attacked me again as soon as the door was
closed behind us.
    *
    My marriage to Kaiss was a merciless
struggle. My husband was mean and brutal. My daily life was a
miserable round of housework, restaurant work and rape. There was
no more talk of moonlight dinners or disco dancing. My husband
worked, ate and raped his wife. That was his life. I sometimes bore
the secret and frightening thought that perhaps my father’s eldest
brother Shair Khan had been reincarnated into Kaiss.
    Soon it was time to enroll at college. I
longed for the change, to attend school with like-minded peers, to
better myself and get away from my husband for a few hours each
day.
    But my husband laughed at me and said,
‘Certainly not. You cannot go. I do not want a career wife. I want
a wife just like the wife my father had – a wife who obeys me.’
    It was like a body blow. I saw all his
prenuptial promises suddenly evaporating. ‘You promised my father
that I would be allowed to get a college degree,’ I stammered.
    Kaiss sneered. ‘Of course I promised. I had
to come up with a good package. A good salesman gets you to buy the
product he is selling. I was the product. I had to sell myself to
your pathetic father to get his daughter.’
    I would not submit to the beast another
moment, I told myself. I would not. ‘I will go to college,’ I said.
‘You