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

proposal of
marriage. My daughter is soon to be married to my brother’s son.
She was pledged to him at her birth.’
    The emissary was struck dumb. Never had the
powerful Ahmed Khail Khan been refused. The poor man squirmed,
fearing he might forfeit his own life when he returned with
rejected gifts rather than with the promise of a beautiful bride.
He reluctantly departed and braced himself for what was to come.
The bride Ahmed Khan so desired was promised to another.
    As expected, the Khan flew into an
uncontrollable rage. Everyone around him remained motionless,
fearful to call attention to their presence. ‘Who is this poor
farmer who dares refuse the head of his tribe?’ he demanded,
flinging his arms about, shouting louder and louder. ‘Where can I
find this undeserving groom who plans to claim such a beauty?’
    While Mayana’s family carried on with their
wedding plans, a grisly plan was already in motion. Mayana would
never marry her betrothed, the only man she had ever considered as
a possible husband and the father of her children.
    Two days after the Khan’s emissary left their
home a disappointed man, an expert horseman thundered by, tossing a
large dilapidated burlap bag at the farmer’s door. Mayana’s father
slashed the bag open before recoiling in horror. The mangled body
of his dead nephew had been stuffed into the bag. Everyone
understood that the ominous message must have come straight from
the ruler of the Khail tribe: no one could refuse the Khan. The
murder was a harsh reminder that the Khan held undisputed power
over his tribe. In order to avoid any further bloodshed, the
petrified family sent word to the Khan that their young daughter
Mayana would arrive in a few days.
    As usual, Ahmed Khail had his way.
    *
    And so it came to pass that my grandmother
Mayana became a ‘prize bride’ like so many other beautiful Afghan
women who are given to the man with the most influence and
wealth.
    My grandmother rarely discussed her youth or
early married life with me. Although she showed me and my sister
great affection, she was dolefully silent about her own life story,
her stoic nature discouraging her inquisitive granddaughters’
curiosity. I longed to ask about her early life but I could never
muster the courage to ask if she had felt affection for her
ill-fated cousin, the man she had believed would be her husband, or
if she mourned his violent death.
    Silence reigned around those who knew my
grandmother. I was ten or eleven years old before I knew anything
substantial about her history. No one in my family dared to discuss
her marriage openly, for who knew if word might hit the ear of the
Khan, thus condemning them all. But as I grew older, my parents and
others in the family would sometimes let slip small stories about
the life Mayana had lived as the wife of Ahmed Khail. I remember
weeping from stories so sad. At the sight of my tears, Grandmother
would caution, ‘Do not speak of such depressing things in front of
this child.’
    But the family gossip continued.
    I knew that any girl’s wedding should be a
cause for celebration, but instead my grandmother was given to
someone she did not know. The women of the family dressed a
frightened Mayana in her wedding dress, then she was placed on the
back of a gaily decorated horse, with ribbons of vivid colors woven
into its mane and tail, and escorted to the grand home of the Khan,
approximately six miles away.
    While an impatient Ahmed Khan waited to claim
his bride, his three existing wives were riddled with jealousy.
Through household gossip they had discovered that their husband was
overly excited about the exceptionally beautiful daughter of an
ignorant peasant. They felt themselves superior to such a simple
girl, but they weren’t the only ones who were infuriated. Ahmed
Khan’s grown-up son Shair, the proclaimed heir of the Khail Khan
title and fortune, was also tormented by the realization that a
youthful bride brought with her the possibility of siblings, who
would be rivals for his father’s wealth. Should the new bride
present his father with a son, Shair would be expected to share his
inheritance. And so it was that many aggrieved people were looking
out, waiting to catch their first glimpse of the simple farmer’s
uneducated daughter.
    Six miles on a horse was a long journey on
Afghanistan’s pitted dirt roads, but Mayana’s entire family made
the excursion to the Khan’s home. Some family members were
mourning, but