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

Afghanistan, I will
cut it off and send her body back to Los Angeles.’
    Friends and relatives living in Kabul
continued trying to see Duran. Some of them even took food and
gifts for Duran, but they were met at the door by an angry Kaiss
who threatened their lives. We did learn that Kaiss had switched
his allegiance from his fellow Afghans to become a Russian puppet.
He was a food caterer for the Russians, making a tidy sum of money.
I tried to see the good in it. At least Kaiss was not at the front,
leaving Duran with perfect strangers. And although he was helping
the enemy of my country, I hoped he was using some of the enemy’s
money to take care of my baby.
    One woman did get a chance to get to Kaiss
and see Duran, only because Kaiss did not know she was my friend.
She reported back that I should not worry, that my son was alive,
although he cried a lot and called out ‘Mano! Mano!’ any time a
woman came into the room. She was taken aback when she heard me
shriek in agony at her words.
    I often prayed that my baby had forgotten me,
anything to make his life less painful. But evidently Duran was so
traumatized that he was still looking for me, even after ten months
of separation. Knowing that, my pain increased and I grieved even
more. Friends and family whispered their fear it would kill me, and
that I would soon be dead.
    When I heard that several cousins were
preparing my shroud, I knew that I must try to be strong. If I were
to die, who would continue to push for the return of my son? Once
my epitaph was written, I knew that my son’s miserable fate would
be mainly forgotten.
    That’s when I decided I had no option except
to go on living.
     

Chapter
XVIII
    In October 1987, I accepted a position
working in a video store, checking videos out and checking videos
in. My boss had never had such a reliable employee. I became a work
robot, arriving early, working at a feverish pace and remaining
late without asking for extra pay. The shop became my total
preoccupation and the customers became my social life. A number of
men asked me out on dates. I said no to them all. Finally one of
them probed, ‘Are you a lesbian?’
    I shrugged, not bothering to explain how a
man and marriage had destroyed my life. I had no interest in
investing anything in another relationship.
    About that time Nadia gave birth to a baby
girl. Some joy returned to my life when I gazed on my sister’s
baby. My niece, Suzie, became a focal point in my life. Although
there were moments when I relapsed into my profound grieving, the
time had come for my life to start again.
    Shortly after my niece was born, a tall
Middle-Eastern man walked into the store to rent a movie. I asked
for his video card and ID. The ID he presented was of another
person, and he then explained that he was visiting his
brother-in-law and was there to rent a movie for the family. When
he mentioned he was from Saudi Arabia I spoke without thinking:
‘Did you bring your four wives with you?’
    He laughed easily, unoffended. ‘Not all Saudi
men have four wives, you know. I don’t even have one.’
    Soon he was coming in daily and before long
he asked me out for dinner.
    ‘Why not,’ I answered without enthusiasm.
    Many Muslims think of Saudi Arabia and Saudi
Arabians as being backward, mainly because of the harsh manner many
have towards their women, but my Saudi date was a perfect
gentleman, and I found him interesting.
    Then he surprised me by asking, ‘Do you
believe in love at first sight?’
    ‘Definitely not.’
    ‘Well, I do. I fell in love with you the
first minute I saw you. Will you marry me?’
    I burst out laughing and asked him to take me
home.
    The following day he returned to the video
shop with another Saudi man. His friend was dark and handsome with
vivid green eyes. ‘This is my friend, Khalid,’ he told me.
    He turned to Khalid. ‘Khalid, this is the
girl I will marry.’
    He looked at me again, ‘Maryam, I must go
back to Saudi Arabia today, but Khalid will look after you. Please
think about my proposal while I am away.’
    I laughed, thinking that Saudi men were
surely quick to fall in love. Perhaps it had to do with their
closed society. Of course, I was never going to marry again, so his
proposal meant nothing to me beyond a joke.
    Khalid came to the video store frequently and
would chat with me. He never mentioned his friend and neither did
I.
    The time passed slowly. My life was filled
with only two things: work and mourning my