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

son, although I became
excited when in 1989 the Russians were defeated and pushed out of
Afghanistan, for it gave me hope that the time was coming when I
might be able to find my way into the country to reclaim my son.
Little Duran was by that time five years old, still too young to be
without his mother. But just as I was making my travel plans,
everything fell apart again. The moment the Russians withdrew and
the Afghan warlords broke the Russian fetters, they began to
struggle against the Soviet-backed government for control of
Afghanistan. One day the warlords were battling the Russians, the
next they were battling each other. Soon the country had erupted
into civil war.
    I unpacked my bags, knowing that Afghan
warriors would fight until they were all destroyed together. I
carefully followed one major battle after another, from the Battle
of Jalalabad, to the fall of Kabul, to the race to control all
Afghanistan.
    Would my son never know peace?
    Khalid the Saudi became a daily fixture,
renting so many movie videos that one day I asked, ‘How can you do
your studies? All you do is watch movies!’ The handsome Saudi said
nothing in his defense, although he smiled his sweet smile.
    Then one day Khalid telephoned and asked my
advice. ‘Maryam, what is the most romantic restaurant on the beach?
I am going to ask a very special lady to dinner and want to take
her to the best place.’
    I suggested: ‘There is a delightful Indian
restaurant with the best view on the pier in Redondo Beach.’
    That night when I was closing the store,
Khalid walked up. ‘Maryam, can I ask you to please come with me to
this restaurant? I want you to meet this special lady.’
    ‘That’s kind of you, Khalid, but no. I am
very tired tonight.’
    ‘You must be hungry.’
    ‘Yes, but too tired for an evening out.’
    ‘Please. You said the food was great.’
    I studied Khalid carefully for the first
time, wondering why he would invite anyone to accompany him on a
date with his special lady.
    ‘Please.’
    ‘Oh, all right.’ I was hungry and I
reasoned that going to the restaurant would save me from having to
cook. And Khalid must have a reason for me to meet his friend. He
was a very nice man. Perhaps he wanted to get an unbiased opinion
of the woman.
    We waited thirty minutes for his special date
but she never arrived. Finally I said, ‘Her majesty is late. And I
am starving.’
    Khalid stood up. ‘Wait right here.’ He walked
away. I assumed he was going to call his overdue date.
    Within a few minutes Khalid returned. He was
carrying a long-stemmed red rose and was smiling widely. He
presented me with the rose. ‘Maryam, you are the special girl I
have been waiting all my life to meet.’
    I blinked in surprise, thinking the situation
was getting ridiculous. ‘Khalid, what is it with you Saudis? First
your friend proposes to me on our first date. Now, you are telling
me that I am your special girl. Is this normal for Saudi Arabia? Do
good friends fall in love with the same girl and both propose?’ I
teased him. ‘Is this a national custom I had not heard about?’
    Khalid laughed. ‘Maryam, I can’t speak for my
friend. But he is back in Saudi Arabia and just informed me
yesterday that he has discovered it is very difficult to bring a
wife from another country to Saudi Arabia. I think he has given up.
But I, I am here. And I am staying here. I want to see more of
you.’
    At first I didn’t take him seriously. But he
continued to call me daily and soon I found that I looked forward
to his calls. Slowly we began dating seriously. We became very
close.
    One day he asked: ‘Maryam, why are your eyes
so sad?’
    Since the loss of my son I had become much
more reflective. I discovered that people rarely talk about the
things that mean the most to them. Since my baby had been stolen, I
had placed memories of my precious Duran in a special place in my
heart. Never did I confide my heart’s secrets.
    Khalid looked so gentle and caring that I
looked away. ‘One day I might tell you, Khalid, but not now.’
    I thought a lot about Khalid that night. He
was the most mild-tempered man I had ever known. I had never heard
him raise his voice. He never criticized me. We never argued. If we
disagreed on any topic, we calmly discussed it. Khalid respected
me. Respect from a man was something few Afghan women ever
experienced.
    Khalid was the exact opposite of Kaiss.
    That is why I fell in love with Khalid.
    When I told my sister that