A Far Away Home

by Howard Faber

  “Thank you, I feel fine. Dad, how is my leg? Did they make it better? What did they say?”

  “The doctors said the operation went very well. They straightened your leg, but they aren’t sure if it will bend like your other leg. That will be something that will take time to see, but, God willing, you will be able to walk on your leg very well,” said his dad.

  “If I can just stand up straight, I’ll be very happy. If it will bend just a little, I’ll be very happy, but even if it doesn’t bend, I’ll still be very happy. Can I go home?”

  “Not yet, but they said maybe in a week, or sooner. I’ll make you some soup and fresh bread. What would you like to drink?” said his mom.

  “Just tea, but maybe green tea. Do we have some?”

  “I’ll get some. We’ll be back soon. You sleep some more. The doctors will be around to talk to you.”

  So it was, his leg was straight for the first time ever. Ali went back to sleep, dreaming about walking, dreaming about standing, and dreaming about flying.

  ***

  After three days in the hospital, the doctors told Ali he should get up and move around, using his crutch to help support the weight when he put his left leg down. Ali hadn’t really thought about walking or if it would be hard to do. He sat on the edge of the bed with both legs hanging down to the floor. He put his weight on his right leg, put his crutch out to take the weight for his left leg, and carefully, slowly, with help from two nurses, put his new leg, his left leg, down to touch the floor. It felt sore but was a wonderful new sensation. It was heavily taped, wrapped to support the knee. He put ever so little weight on that leg. It wasn’t really painful on the leg, but he could feel pain all around his knee. He expected that and kept a little weight on the leg, then asked if he could move some around the room.

  The nurses helped him, and he kept his crutch on his left side to take most of his weight. He was of course good at using the crutch because he never walked without it. He was soon tired and asked to go back to the bed. He sat on the edge, looking at his straight leg, smiling, thankful for this miracle.

  It was also, of course, due to the skill of the new doctors. He looked at his doorway, and there they were, anxious to see how he moved. They came in and asked him about the pain and whether he could put any weight on the leg. They told him they wanted to have him gradually start to use his leg, but it would take several weeks to heal, and they expected it might take a month to be able to use it very much.

  “Thank you very much, thank you.” Ali tried to think of more to say. “I will be grateful all of my life. You have given me a great gift and I will do my best to use it well.”

  “We are very happy to help. This is why we are here.” The doctors were very gracious.

  Every day, first once a day, then twice, and later four or five times a day, Ali gradually used his new leg. That’s what he called it, his new leg. After a week, some of the heavy bandaging was removed. After two weeks, most of the tape came off. Before they taped it again, the nurses let Ali see the scars where the doctors opened his knee. He touched the scars lightly, tracing them with his finger. He tried to bend his knee a little, and it bent, just a little, but was very stiff and didn’t seem to want to bend at all. That day he went home. He was very happy to leave the hospital. His mom and dad were just as happy. The doctors told him to come back to the hospital every day, once in the morning, once in the afternoon.

  After three weeks, the doctors started the nurses working on his knee to stretch it and bend it every day. It was painful. Ali tried to fight the pain. Every day it bent a little more, still not at all like his right leg, but it gave him hope. He was going to be satisfied whatever happened, but every little bit more it bent, the more he could do. At the end of the month, the nurses and doctors decided he might try to walk on it without his crutch.

  He scooted to the edge of the bed, swung his legs down, and slowly put his weight on them. At first, all of his weight was on his old leg. He was using his new leg just for balance. Then, sweating and nervous, he adjusted his balance to gradually add weight to his left leg. The nurses were behind him, ready to catch him if needed. He took a step with his right leg, following it by sliding his left leg forward. This was his first step with his new leg. The nurses cheered. He relaxed a bit and took another careful step, then another.

  His new leg was getting tired, so he talked to it. “Don’t be tired. Go ahead. Walk. Do your job. You can do it.” It seemed to answer with some throbbing pain. This was going to be hard, but he would not give up.

  Ali returned to the hospital every day, and every day he got better at using his new leg. The pain was less, the swelling was less, and it got stronger. He could also bend it a little further every week. He was now walking around town, getting compliments about how he was moving. He could play with his friends, not yet climbing on walls, but playing tope danda, a ball game where you hit a ball with a stick and run between two bases.

  Your team changed from hitting and running to catching and throwing if someone on your team was hit with the ball while running between bases. There could be two or more on each team. Usually, there were about ten boys playing. Ali was a good hitter and thrower. He was getting faster at running, as his leg got stronger. He had to swing it sideways because it didn’t bend very far yet.

  Once a boy new to Sharidure began teasing him about his leg and his slow running. The game stopped. Ali’s friends told the new boy not to say anything about Ali. He started to argue that he could say whatever he wanted. That was not what the boys wanted to hear. They walked closer to the boy and said again that’s not how they acted in their town. He was bigger than anyone else and seemed to think he could do whatever he wanted. Maybe he was used to that in his town. The talking ended, and the Sharidure boys ended up sitting on the bigger boy, suggesting he take himself back to his town to his friends, if he had any.

  Ali thanked his friends, feeling a little uncomfortable about having his friends having to fight for him, but also feeling great that they would. It’s a valuable thing in life to have a friend and even better to have several.

  ***

  Every summer visitors came to Sharidure, the nomads, the Koochi, or as they preferred, the Maldar. They came on their trek from the lower climates to the cooler summer pastures of the Hazarajat. They had come for as long as Ali could remember, camping with their black tents just above the town, with their herds of sheep and goats and with the huge dogs that guarded the herds. The Maldar men would come into town to trade a sheep or goat for wheat, sugar, tea, or candy. Ali was intrigued by these people, though careful not to get too close. There were stories about how tough and ruthless they were. After all, they were not Hazara, not his people, so they were not to be trusted. They also carried rifles and wore bands of bullets around their chests. Mostly, they would stay a few days, then pack up their tents onto camels, and move on to find grass for their herds.

  It was in the evening, when their work was finished, that Hossein and Ali were walking on the edge of town, below where a group of nomads were moving their herds of sheep and goats closer to their tents for the night. “Wouldn’t you like to see them close up?” Hossein was a good friend. He had always been brave and very curious about things.

  “My dad has told me to not meddle with them. He doesn’t think they are bad, but
he wants me to just stay away from them.” Ali didn’t want to disobey his parents, and he was really not so curious about these people. He watched them in town, and wondered about their tents and about how they could live always moving.

  “Come on, we won’t get too close.” Hossein started to move closer to the tents. Ali was torn about what to do. He didn’t want his friend to think he was afraid, but he knew he shouldn’t go closer.

  “Hossein, I really don’t think we should bother them. Let’s just go back to town.”

  Hossein turned around and made chicken wings out of his arms and waved them at Ali. “Are you afraid, Ali?”

  Just when Hossein turned around again to move closer, they both heard the bark of a dog. It sounded like a big dog, and it was not far away. Hossein turned again and started running downhill. Ali started to turn when he saw the dog. It was huge. Its dark shape seemed like a horse. It was close, heading straight for Hossein. It was going to get him. Nobody could outrun a dog. Hossein heard the dog, too, and screamed for help, “Ali, help!”

  Almost instinctively, Ali reached into his shirt for his fahlakhmon (slingshot). He always carried it. He also kept two or three smooth stones in that pocket. He loaded a stone, focused on the dog, swung the sling around his head, and fired the stone. The big dog was about ten meters away, running as fast as it could, intent on catching Hossein.

  When the stone hit, the big dog yelped and bit at where the stone hit, right in the ribs. For a second, Ali thought it might come at him, but the dog lost all interest in chasing anyone and turned back toward his tent, yelping, and limping.

  Hossein stopped running and looked back. He heard the yelp and turned to see what was happening. He looked at Ali, then ran over to him, grabbing his hand and thanking him for saving him. Ali just sat down, shaken, his heart racing. Hossein sat down, too, but kept looking in the direction of the nomads’ camp, worried that the dog might return. “Let’s go, Ali. The dog might come back, or the Koochi.”

  Later, as they neared their homes, they started talking about what happened. They hadn’t said much all the way down to town. Hossein kept marveling about how Ali stood and calmly aimed his slingshot. He said he could only think about running. He couldn’t believe Ali hit the running dog. Ali shrugged his shoulders and laughed a little. “Ali, what’s so funny?”

  “I was just thinking, that dog was so big he was a good target.”

  Of course, Hossein told all their friends about how the dog charged and how Ali plunked it with a stone. Everyone oohed and ahhed about this great feat. Ali was someone to be reckoned with. He routed the giant Koochi dog. Ali was the slingshot man.

  Chapter Five

  Ali Learns to Fly

  © Don Beiter

  Now that he had a new leg, Ali was able to do more to help Dan, the pilot, when he flew into Sharidure.

  He could carry containers of gas, he could load and unload the plane, and because he was also older and taller, he could reach a lot higher than before. He could also sit in the co-pilot’s seat and put his feet on the pedals that helped control the plane. So it was, that one afternoon when Dan was finished with all of his work, and when he was staying that night at Sharidure, he asked, “Ali, you’ve been watching me and helping me get the plane ready for two years. How old are you now, fourteen?”

  “Yes, fourteen.”

  “Would you like to learn to fly this plane?”

  Ali had been putting the lid on a barrel of aviation fuel. He stopped, turned, walked over to the plane, the beautiful, sleek, red and white plane, ran his hand over the shiny, slick side, then the wing, and quietly said, “Yes, I would like that very much.”

  Dan climbed into the plane on the left side. Ali pulled himself up on the right side, both clicked their seat belts into the latches, and Dan showed Ali how to start the engine. It sputtered a second, then roared to life. Then, Dan showed Ali how the steering wheel would turn and move in and out. He had Ali watch the wings and tail when he moved the controls. Dan explained what happened when each control moved. Ali tried each part of the control system, to get the feel of how they felt.

  There were lots of things to watch on the panel in front of them. One moved as the engine changed speeds. One showed how much fuel each tank had (Ali knew about the plane’s several fuel tanks.), another showed how high they were in the air, and another the directions. There was lots to know about. As he did each check, Dan explained what he was doing. Dan turned the plane and increased the engine speed, and the plane obediently moved toward the top of the runway. Ali had his hands on the wheel but was just gently holding on, feeling Dan’s movements. Dan gunned the engine, holding the brakes to let the engine get to the speed he wanted, then released the plane to start down the hill, down the runway.

  The little plane gained speed quickly, and about halfway down, the tail lifted. Now, it was easier to see, and Ali saw the valley ahead. The end of the runway was still quite a bit ahead. When the tail lifted, the plane seemed able to move faster quickly. As the end of the runway approached, Ali for a moment wondered if they would be flying before falling off the cliff, but he remembered he had watched Dan take off many times, so he turned his mind back to watching Dan and feeling the controls as Dan moved the wheel a little to lift the plane off the ground.

  They were flying! Dan kept talking to him about each part of the takeoff, turning the wheel to head down the valley over Sharidure. He tried to remember all of the things Dan said. After flying about five minutes, Dan told him to find a bridge in the distance and fly toward it. That involved a turn to the right, so Ali turned the wheel a little, and the plane responded instantly, his first turn, his first moment of control, his first seconds of flying a plane. He could feel the response of the controls and tried to picture the movement of the parts on the tail Dan showed him before taking off.

  Dan asked him to fly a bit higher and showed him the circle of glass on the control panel that showed how high they were. He showed him the number he wanted to go to, then told Ali to fly higher and how to do that. So, up they went, slowly, with Ali watching the gauge to get it just right. He wanted to impress Dan and show he could do this. It was wonderful. It was as magic as he had always hoped, as freeing as he had dreamed.

  © Don Beiter

  Dan had him turn back up the valley toward Sharidure. He hadn’t realized how far they had flown. It soon came in sight on the left, the trees, the homes, the road. Everything seemed small. It gave him a new perspective on his home town, how small it was, and how it was a part of so much more.

  Dan started the wide left turn that would line them up with the airfield on the hill. As he guided the plane toward the landing area, Dan explained what he was doing and why. As the edge of the cliff approached, he showed Ali just where he would set the plane down. He also said they couldn’t slow down too much or the plane would quit flying and drop. They touched down just where Dan said, and gradually slowed down as they went up the hill. Ali was in awe of the control Dan had of the plane. He tried to remember each detail of the flight, the feel of the wheel, the gauges, and the speed as they landed. When they stopped, he just sat for a while. He wanted to never forget this first real flight, this first time he was a pilot.

  ***

  The flying lessons continued all fall
, usually once a week, when Dan flew to Sharidure. Dan gradually taught him more and let him have more time flying the plane. Ali was a good student. They talked when they flew, with Dan often telling him stories about flying. Dan’s favorite saying was, “There are old pilots and bold pilots, but no old and bold pilots.” It was his way of saying to be very careful.

  Ali’s favorite saying, one that he taught Dan was about how gradually, little by little, something important can grow, “Qatra, qatra dareeawe maysha (Drop by drop a river grows).” He was talking about his becoming a pilot. It was true, with each lesson, he grew more confident. Dan hadn’t let him land yet. That was the most difficult, but he said that training would begin the next week.

  When Dan landed on Thursday, he asked Ali if he could fly back with him to Kabul that afternoon. Ali just grinned and ran to tell his family and wrap some things in a cloth to take to Kabul. “I take that as a yes!” called Dan, as Ali disappeared down to Sharidure.

  “I’m going to Kabul, and Dan is going to teach me to land the plane,” Ali told his dad as he burst through the door of the carpenter’s shop. “Oh, is that OK with you?” He hoped it would be, but he really knew it was.