Parvana's Journey

by Deborah Ellis

  “Mother wouldn’t recognize me,” Parvana laughed, “doing housework without being told.” She was even wearing girl-clothes all the time again, except when she did nasty cleaning jobs. Her hair was growing back, too. Soon she would be able to tuck bits of it behind her ears.

  She pulled two of the three toshaks out of the house and into the yard. Then she bent down, grabbed a corner of the mat and tugged. But the mat wouldn’t move.

  Grandmother — that was the reason! The mat ran under the toshak where Grandmother crouched.

  “You need to be aired out just like the furniture,” Parvana said. She laughed at herself. She sounded just like her mother’s bossy friend, Mrs. Weera.

  Parvana went out into the yard. Leila had come down from the look-out and was hitting one of the toshaks with a stick to beat out the dust and bugs. Asif was keeping Hassan entertained with a piece of wood he moved in the dirt like a toy car. He made car noises that Hassan tried to mimic.

  “Can your grandmother walk?” Parvana asked Leila.

  “She could before Mother left.”

  “Let’s bring her outside,” Parvana said. “It will be good for her, and it will give us a chance to give the inside of the house a good cleaning.”

  Asif couldn’t help much, but he went into the house with them with Hassan crawling along behind. He liked to try to grab at Asif’s crutches as he walked.

  Parvana and Leila crouched down in front of the old woman.

  “We’re going to take you outside now, Grandmother,” Leila said.

  The woman didn’t respond.

  “How will we do this?” Leila asked. “We can’t carry her.”

  “Pull her out on the toshak,” Asif suggested. As if he could understand, Hassan crawled up onto the mattress beside Grandmother. He giggled.

  The girls grabbed the end of the mattress and slowly pulled it across the room and out the door. Parvana saw Grandmother’s old thin hands grip the sides of the mattress so she wouldn’t fall off, but she made no other movement. Hassan laughed at getting a free ride.

  “Let’s put her in the sun for a while,” Leila suggested. “If it gets too hot, we can move her into the shade.”

  Hassan thought the old woman was something to climb on, so Asif led him back to the game they had been playing.

  Parvana and Leila brought the floor mat outside, beat the dirt out of it and left it basking in the sun. Then they gave the inside of the house a good hard scrubbing until it smelled much better and looked much brighter.

  They brought Grandmother outside every day after that. One afternoon, when they weren’t watching Hassan closely enough, he snatched the chador off the old woman’s head, tossed it on his own and laughed out loud.

  Grandmother crouched down to cover her face. Leila took the chador away from Hassan and was going to give it back to Grandmother when Parvana stopped her. “Let’s wash it first.”

  While it was drying, Leila combed the old woman’s long, graying hair with her fingers. Slowly, her body began to unfold, and her face lifted to the sun. Parvana wasn’t absolutely certain, but she thought she saw the old woman smile.

  Days and weeks went by — golden days full of sun and enough food and lots of happy work. The sores on Leila’s face completely healed, Hassan grew strong, and Asif stopped coughing. Often at night they would sit around the cook-fire and tell stories or sing songs. Hassan usually fell asleep in Asif’s lap, but sometimes, if Grandmother sat out with them, he would fall asleep against her, and Parvana would see her gently stroke the little boy’s hair as he slept.

  Dear Shauzia:

  On good days, Grandmother sits facing the door when she’s inside. Sometimes she has harder days and goes back to facing the wall. I tell her it’s okay. I know all about bad days.

  No sign of our mothers yet. Leila says it’s just a matter of time. I hope Nooria doesn’t go all bossy as soon as she gets here. I hope she respects that I found this place before she did, and what I say goes, but that might be too much to hope for.

  On very, very good days, Grandmother practices standing up. Her legs are not strong enough yet to hold her up for very long.

  Sometimes Hassan tries to stand at the same time. They practice together, and they look so much alike that it really is very funny to watch. Even Asif laughs, although that isn’t very fair of me, because he laughs all the time now. We tell Grandmother we’re laughing at the baby, but really we’re laughing at them both.

  “I don’t know how to write,” Leila said, crouching beside Parvana. “I’ve never been to school. My mother didn’t go. Neither did my grandmother. They wanted to send me, but now there’s no school.”

  “I can teach you how to read and write,” Parvana said. Asif was sitting nearby holding Hassan’s hands and trying to get him to stand on his own. Parvana saw him raise his head, although he didn’t say anything.

  “Can you teach Grandmother, too?”

  Parvana nodded. “Sure.”

  “She always wanted to own a book,” Leila continued. “She used to tell me that if she had a book, she’d learn to read it, and she would sit and read her book when the work was done for the day. She said it would give her new things to think about, and she’d like that.”

  Parvana knew at once what to do.

  There were two of her father’s books left. One was a small book with a paper cover. The other was large with a hard cover. She took the large book inside to Grandmother.

  Grandmother was having a bad day. She was back in her usual spot, facing the wall, her head covered over again.

  “I have a present for you, Grandmother,” Parvana said, sliding the book onto the mattress. She placed the old woman’s hand on the book’s cover. “It’s a book, for your very own. And I will teach you how to read it.”

  The thin, wrinkled hand slowly stroked the book’s cover and thumbed the pages. Parvana was about to go back to Leila when the old woman grabbed her hand and squeezed it.

  “You’re welcome,” Parvana said. She slipped her father’s last book into her shoulder bag where she kept her letters to Shauzia.

  Her father would be pleased, she thought. And she smiled.

  FIFTEEN

  The weeks sped by. Parvana knew that time was passing, but she didn’t think to keep track of the days. Some days it rained, but most days were sunny. She knew by the coolness of the evenings that the summer was turning into autumn.

  “We’re down to the last sack of flour,” Asif said one morning. He had appointed himself in charge of food supplies. “There’s only one full can of cooking oil left, and one and a half sacks of rice.”

  “Are you sure?” Parvana asked.

  Asif just looked at her with disdain before turning his back and walking away.

  Parvana climbed up to the look-out point to watch for her mother and think. The breeze at the top of the little hill was chilly.

  She tried to figure out how long the food would last. They had apples now, too, but not very many.

  “Even if we’re very careful, the food won’t last the winter,” she said to the air. She had been too busy enjoying herself when she should have been worrying about the coming winter.

  Leila climbed up the hill and sat down beside her. One of her braids had come loose. Parvana rebraided it as they talked.

  “Any mothers yet?” Leila asked.

  “Not today.”

  “Maybe tomorrow.”

  “We’re running out of food,” Parvana said, then wished she could snatch the words back. It wasn’t right to worry the little girl. But she would have to know soon, wouldn’t she?

  “Don’t worry,” Leila said. “The mine field will take care of us.”

  “I hope it happens soon.”

  They watched as a group of planes streamed across a corner of the sky. A moment later there was a sound like thunder rumbling in the di
stance. Then they saw dust rise up from the far hills.

  The girls had seen these planes before. They were nothing special.

  “Grownups killing each other,” Parvana said, and she turned away to look for her mother in the other direction.

  “I kill,” Leila said.

  Parvana looked at her.

  “I kill pigeons,” Leila said. “I don’t like to do it, but it’s not hard. It must be much harder to kill a goat or a donkey. Is it hard to kill a child?” she asked suddenly.

  “It should be,” Parvana said, “but some people seem to find it awfully easy.”

  “As easy as killing a pigeon?”

  “Easier, I think.”

  “We eat dead pigeons,” Leila said. “What do they do with all the dead children?”

  Parvana didn’t even try to answer that question. She put her arm around her new little sister, and together they watched the bombs go off, way in the distance.

  As the days went by the children saw many more planes in the sky. The sound of explosions went on around them all night, night after night.

  “I can’t sleep with all that noise,” Leila complained. “Don’t those grownups know there are children trying to sleep down here?”

  “Maybe we should go somewhere else,” Asif said.

  “Nothing will happen to us here,” Parvana said. “Besides, Grandmother can’t walk very far yet.” The old woman had worked up to taking a few steps in the yard, but she was still very slow.

  All night long the sky would rumble like a thunderstorm. The noise stopped in the morning, and the children sometimes stayed in bed until midday, catching up on the sleep they had lost.

  In the afternoons, Parvana taught school. Leila was eager to learn, but she found it hard to keep still and silent during lessons. Grandmother sat beside Leila, holding her book and listening. Parvana wasn’t sure how much she was learning, but she liked having her there.

  “I don’t need your stupid school,” Asif announced. He took care of Hassan during the lessons, but Parvana noticed they were always close enough to be able to hear what she was saying. Sometimes she saw him trying to draw the letters in the dust with the tip of his crutch, but he always made sure to rub out his efforts afterward.

  One afternoon Parvana was teaching Leila how to count using piles of stones. Hassan was standing on Asif’s foot, his arms clinging to Asif’s leg. Every time Asif took a step, Hassan swung and giggled. Parvana kept frowning at them — the giggling was distracting — but they kept doing it anyway.

  Then they heard the sound of an explosion in the field beyond the canyon.

  “Did you hear that?” Leila yelled as she jumped to her feet. “I told you the mine field would take care of us!” She sprinted off down the canyon toward the mine field. Parvana followed her.

  “Are you two crazy?” Asif hollered. “Get back here!”

  Parvana paid no attention to him. Although Leila had a head start, Parvana’s legs were longer, and soon she was right behind the little girl. They dashed through the field to the place where the dust was still billowing from the explosion.

  “It’s a goat!” Leila exclaimed. “The mine only got a part of it. Most of it is still here!”

  They each took hold of one of the dead goat’s legs and dragged it back across the mine field. Parvana thought again about a spider snatching a fly that flew into its web.

  Asif waited for them at the mouth of the canyon. He was waving a crutch and yelling at them.

  “You are both idiots! You could have been killed!”

  “If you call us idiots, we won’t give you any meat for supper,” Parvana said. She and Leila laughed as they ducked away from the waving crutch.

  They put on their most tattered clothes and got the goat ready for cooking. Asif peeled away the skin and chopped the carcass into pieces. They decided to roast most of the meat and put the smaller bones in a pot to boil for soup.

  “Let’s all get cleaned and dressed up,” Parvana suggested, after the nasty part of the job was done and they had buried the remains outside the canyon. “Let’s have a party.”

  Leila loved the idea and, as suppertime grew near and the smell of the roasting goat filled Green Valley, even Asif got into the spirit of it. He washed and put on clean clothes and got Hassan clean and dressed up as well.

  After helping Grandmother clean and change, Parvana scrubbed herself and put on Leila’s mother’s blue shalwar kameez. Her hair felt soft from the washing. She shook her head to feel it fluff out around her neck. It really was growing back!

  On impulse, she took a flower from the bottle full of wildflowers Leila kept on the windowsill and tucked it behind her ear.

  “Oh, Parvana, you look really pretty!” Leila said. “Doesn’t she look pretty, Asif?”

  Asif looked at Parvana and made throw-up noises. Parvana turned her back on him. She would not let him ruin the party for her.

  The roasted goat was delicious. Parvana wasn’t sure how long the cooked meat would last without going bad, so everyone ate as much as they could.

  There was still a bit of light in the sky. Parvana fetched her shoulder bag from the house. She meant to write to Shauzia about the meal from the mine field, but when she got back to the fire, Leila and Asif were singing. She slung the bag over her shoulder and joined them until the fire burned down into deep red embers.

  They were still singing when night came and the bombs started falling again.

  The thunder noise was much louder tonight. Parvana could feel the earth vibrate beneath her. She put her arm around Leila. Asif held Hassan in his lap.

  Parvana’s heart beat hard in her chest as the children kept singing. The louder the bombs, the louder they sang. Parvana was too scared to be able to think of what else to do.

  Then a bomb fell right outside Green Valley. The earth shook violently. The noise sounded right through the hands they clamped over their ears. Hassan screamed.

  Parvana and Asif moved the younger ones over beside the boulders on the edge of the clearing.

  “Grandmother! Come over here!” Leila yelled.

  But Grandmother had rolled back up into a ball and covered her head.

  Leila tried to go to her but Parvana wouldn’t let her. With one hand she held onto Leila. With the other hand she held onto Asif, who shielded Hassan with his body.

  Parvana held on tightly as the earth shook more and more. She held on even though Leila writhed and screamed to get to her grandmother.

  She was holding on when a bomb fell directly on Green Valley.

  Dust, rocks and debris fell on the children’s backs. Parvana couldn’t tell who was screaming. Maybe it was her.

  They clung to each other through the darkness of the night, as the bombs continued to fall all around them.

  Silence came with the morning light.

  There was a large crater in the yard.

  Grandmother was gone. The house was gone.

  Green Valley was gone.

  SIXTEEN

  Dear Shauzia:

  We’re back on the road. It almost feels like we never left. Maybe Green Valley was just a dream. I should stop dreaming. All my dreams turn into garbage.

  As hard as it was before, it seems harder this time. It’s harder to sleep on the bare ground after months of sleeping on a mattress. It’s harder to be hungry after months of eating every day. And it’s harder to spend the days wandering after having a home again.

  I hope you are living somewhere wonderful. You will have to have a truly spectacular life to make up for the waste mine has become.

  Leila didn’t want to leave the clearing. She kept saying her mother would come back and not find her. She made me leave a note for her mother. I’m glad Leila can’t read much, because I had to put in the note that I have no idea where we are going.

  Hassan cries and
cries and cries. I felt sad for him at first. Now I just hate the noise.

  As if he knew what she was writing, Hassan let out an extra-loud wail.

  Parvana threw down her notebook.

  “Shut up!” she yelled. “We’ve tried to help you and we can’t, so stop crying!”

  “He doesn’t understand you,” Asif said, taking the baby onto his lap. “He got used to eating, and he’s angry at us for not feeding him.”

  Parvana hated it that Asif was behaving better than she was. She picked up her notebook and put it back in her shoulder bag. Then she noticed that Leila was crying again, too.

  “Do you want a reading lesson?” Parvana asked her gently. “My father used to give me lessons when we took breaks.”

  Leila shook her head and wiped away some of the tears that were rolling down her cheeks.

  “I should have gone to Grandmother,” she said. “You should have let me go.”

  Parvana tried to hug the little girl, but Leila pulled out of her grasp. Leila cried quietly — not loud like Hassan — but Parvana was just as tired of hearing it. She walked away and sat down with her back to them. She had no idea what to do.

  A row of tanks rolled by in the distance, and two planes flew in the sky above her, although she didn’t see any bombs falling from them. Parvana didn’t pay them any attention. Tanks were normal. Bombs were normal. Why couldn’t eating be normal?

  They had salvaged what they could after the house was bombed. There was a bit of rice spilled on the ground. They picked it out of the dirt grain by grain. There wasn’t enough water to cook the rice, and no cook-pot, so the children had to chew the rice kernels raw.

  The food and water lasted them for a few days. Then it ran out. That was two days ago. It was longer for Hassan, because he couldn’t chew raw rice.

  Their only blanket was the blanket shawl Asif had been wearing around his shoulders when the bomb hit. That, plus Parvana’s shoulder bag, was all they had. Hassan had no change of clothing, and already he stank again.