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

over.
     

Chapter
XVI
    Papa pulled strings and used all his contacts
trying to locate Kaiss. We soon discovered Kaiss’s route out of the
country. Just as my premonitions of disaster had warned, Kaiss had
carefully planned his escape prior to his visit to Los Angeles. He
knew that if he could only ingratiate himself with my family, that
a moment would come when I would be out of the immediate vicinity.
My folly had come from relying on Papa to watch over and protect my
baby. Five short minutes in the bathroom and all was lost.
    Devious Kaiss had had a rented car sitting
outside on the street. The moment Papa permitted him to take Duran
out of the apartment on the pretence of going for a cold juice,
Kaiss had dashed to his car, strapped in Duran and driven out of
Los Angeles, up through California and Washington State into
Canada. Once in Canada, he hid out in a small village. After a
week, he flew to Europe. While there he obtained documents to
travel to Afghanistan, the one place on earth where he knew he
would find tribal protection and be beyond the reach of the law of
America.
    I discovered too quickly that the United
States government could do nothing once Kaiss left the United
States. They had no jurisdiction in Afghanistan.
    Sadly, events proved I had been right: only I
knew the real Kaiss, a brute raised by a brute. I knew his history
only because during one of the few times Kaiss was feeling
affectionate, he had confided something of his childhood to me.
    Kaiss’s father was an ignorant, cruel man.
Kaiss’s earliest memories were of a household consisting of a
wicked father, two cowed wives and many children. As a child, Kaiss
clung to his mother, who was vilely mistreated by her husband.
Kaiss’s father had such a violent temper that all the children hid
when he made an appearance. When Kaiss was four years old, his
mother was diagnosed with tuberculosis. His father became enraged
at his wife, beating her severely for contracting an infectious
disease. The father then hired someone to take Kaiss’s mother away
from her children to a family farm where she was locked away in a
small dark room. The poor woman was fed only once a day, and had to
live in that tiny room without access to a toilet. Her disease only
worsened with time and eventually she died.
    One day Kaiss had a mother, and the next he
did not. Without a mother to protect him, Kaiss was often beaten,
and so he learnt to be cruel himself. He turned into a tough kid,
harming animals and beating up his younger siblings. He was proud
to admit to me that he had stabbed a few people over minor
disagreements, and once even demonstrated the best way to do the
most harm with a small knife.
    That was Afghanistan, I thought, one monster
rearing a second monster. Would that happen to my baby too? Would
his father’s cruelty destroy my baby’s sweet nature? Would the most
loving child in the world grow into an unfeeling tyrant, the same
as his father?
    My wounds were open and made raw by a family
who had met my warnings with smiles even as Kaiss outwitted them
all. I was most frightened by the knowledge that Kaiss did not
truly love Duran. He was proud to have fathered a son only to brag
to other Afghan men about it, but he had never shown any affection
for the child in my presence. I shuddered to remember all the times
Kaiss had grown so easily irritated at Duran, had shouted at him,
had beaten me in front of him, and had, on occasion, even
threatened to smack Duran. My son had been saved from violence only
because I was there to intercept his father’s angry hand.
    The truth was that Duran hardly knew his
father. He had been living apart from his father most of his life.
My gentle Papa was his father figure. My frightened son was bound
to cry for his mother and his grandfather. When that happened I
knew Kaiss was fully capable of battering my tiny son.
    My baby was only two years old, too young to
comprehend his mother’s absence. I knew that my baby was looking
for me, just as I was longing for him.
    I called Kaiss’s favorite relative, a
half-sister named Zena living in Germany. She was falsely friendly,
and denied any knowledge of Kaiss’s whereabouts. She swore to me on
the Koran that she would tell if she heard anything. Knowing in my
heart that she was lying, I appealed to her own love for her
children, but she swore she knew nothing.
    I suspected that Kaiss and Duran were most
likely living with her. One week later, I arrived in