Naveed

by John Heffernan

  He spits, and shakes his fist in the air. But before he can continue, Anoosheh interrupts.

  ‘That may be, cousin,’ she says quietly, her voice almost swallowed by the noise of traffic. ‘But there are Afghans destroying this country as well, many of them.’

  Akmed stares incredulously at her. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘I’m talking about warlords and drug barons who rob us and kill us and tramp all over us.’

  ‘Ah, yes, I agree. But they’re working with the unbelievers. They must be expelled, too.’

  ‘Wait.’ Anoosheh stops as they reach the top of the lane that leads down to their house, forcing Akmed to do so as well. ‘I’m also talking about the Taliban and those who follow them, who seek to ruin our lives.’ She stares straight at her cousin. ‘I’m talking about women being flogged, and wedding guests beheaded for daring to dance! But you don’t see these things, do you, cousin Akmed?’

  ‘No, I don’t, because they’re not true. They are lies made up by the foreign devils.’

  ‘You’re wrong, cousin. Religious extremists commit terrible crimes every day, but you don’t see them because you don’t want to. You choose to be blind.’

  Akmed turns to Naveed and scowls. ‘Your sister has developed a loose tongue. You should keep her more—’

  ‘Don’t blame my brother for my loose tongue. Blame education. It teaches people to think for themselves. But the Taliban and their kind don’t want us to think, do they? That’s why they bomb schools and murder teachers and throw acid at girls who seek to learn, even shoot them. The power of education frightens the Taliban.’

  ‘Enough, little cousin,’ Akmed shouts. ‘I know what evil foreigners can do. I know it better than anyone. They killed my family.’

  ‘Yes, and I know what evil religious fanatics can do.’ Anoosheh shouts back, matching his fury. ‘They killed my father and they took away my legs.’

  Akmed glares at Anoosheh, his face red, his whole body shaking. She glares back, refusing to be intimidated. Naveed is sandwiched between the two of them, feeling the full force of their combined rage.

  ‘Deny all you wish about the unbelievers!’ Akmed hisses. ‘But there is one crime they commit which you cannot deny – and it is the worst crime of all.’ Akmed brandishes his copy of the Quran. ‘They insult Allah!’

  ‘The worst crime?’ Anoosheh replies. ‘You—’ Before she can go on, a voice calls from the far end of the lane.

  ‘Anoosheh. Naveed.’ Their mother is waving to them from the alley outside their house. ‘Akmed. Come,’ she calls, beckoning frantically. ‘At once.’

  Naveed squats, letting Anoosheh clamber onto his back. Then he sprints down the lane, followed by Akmed.

  Chapter 31

  ‘What is it?’ Naveed asks as he reaches his mother.

  She is waiting in the outside alcove, her hand on the blanket covering the low doorway.

  ‘Hurry,’ she says, drawing the blanket aside and waving them in.

  Naveed sets down his sister, handing over her crutches, and together they enter the room with Akmed right behind. Inside, they find Mr Omaid and Jake waiting for them.

  There is an uneasy silence, eventually filled by the truck driver.

  ‘Please forgive us for intruding,’ he says to Naveed. ‘But—’

  ‘Today is a wonderful day, my children,’ Naveed’s mother cries, pushing past. ‘All thanks to your friend.’ She points to Jake. ‘May Allah shower him with a mountain of blessings. A wonderful day.’

  ‘Slow down, Madar, please. What has happened?’

  ‘It’s Anoosheh.’ She grasps both his hands and laughs out loud. ‘Little Noosh!’

  ‘Me?’ Anoosheh asks. ‘What have I done?’

  ‘It’s a miracle.’ Her mother throws her arms in the air and then smothers Anoosheh in kisses. ‘A miracle!’

  Seeing Naveed’s and Anoosheh’s frustration, Mr Omaid speaks up. ‘You were not here when we arrived, so I had to translate as best I could. I hope I have told your mother the right thing, but as you know, my English is very poor. I might have got your friend’s message wrong. It was translated by another truck driver at Bagram Airfield.’

  ‘What message?’ Naveed shouts in desperation.

  ‘Just tell us!’ Anoosheh begs.

  ‘Legs,’ Mr Omaid says to her. ‘You are to have legs.’

  Anoosheh gasps. ‘Are you sure?’ She looks at Naveed and then turns to Jake, speaking in English. ‘Is true?’ she whispers. ‘I really to have legs?’

  Jake nods. ‘That’s the idea. I got the news only this morning from the doctor in charge of prosthetics at Bagram. Of course, you must realise it will take quite a while. They don’t just put new legs on people like that.’ He snaps his fingers. ‘They need to do tests to make sure it’ll work in your case. Measurements have to be taken; casts have to be made, and the legs themselves. Then they need to be fitted and checked, and once that’s all okay, you’ll have to spend a good while just getting used to them.’

  As Naveed listens, the joy builds inside him, watching his sister’s face glow.

  Jake continues. ‘The main point is that you realise the whole thing will take a while. You do understand that, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes,’ Anoosheh replies, her voice trembling. ‘I understand, just cannot believe is happening.’

  ‘Too right it’s happening,’ Jake says with a chuckle. ‘Whenever you’re ready.’

  ‘Mr Jake,’ Naveed interrupts. ‘What you mean, ready?’

  ‘The sooner the better. If you guys can come to the air base tomorrow, they’ll start the tests straight away. What do you say?’

  Anoosheh cannot hold back anymore. ‘It’s true, Madar,’ she shouts in Dari. ‘I’m going to have legs!’ She rushes forward and throws her arms around her mother, who lifts her up, crying and laughing at the same time. A moment later Naveed joins in, hugging his mother and sister and then spinning them around the room in a swirling dance.

  Jake watches them, beaming from ear to ear, and Mr Omaid laughs, clapping and stamping his feet in time as Anoosheh and her mother ululate in celebration. Naveed calls to his cousin and beckons him to join in. But Akmed simply stands there, a blank expression on his face, his eyes staring right through them. Naveed wants to grab his cousin and pull him into the dance. But he’s too swept along in the excitement, and by the time he looks around again, Akmed has gone.

  Dizzy from spinning and twirling, the dancers eventually stop and Anoosheh wriggles out of her mother’s arms. Naveed retrieves her crutches and passes them to her, and together they turn to Jake.

  ‘Thank you,’ Anoosheh whispers, tears streaming down her face, ‘thank you.’

  ‘No need to thank me, I just made the appointment – that’s the easy bit!’

  Anoosheh and Naveed shake their heads, thanking Jake over and over until he holds up his hands.

  ‘So does this mean I’ll see you all at the base tomorrow morning?’ he asks.

  ‘Too rights!’ says Anoosheh, grinning through her tears.

  Late that night, Naveed sits in the lane outside the house, Nasera’s head in his lap. A smile is still on his lips as he thinks about the events of that afternoon and of the great blessings heaped upon him and his family. Anoosheh and his mother chatted well into the evening, long after Jake and Mr Omaid left, unable to sleep with all the excitement. He has thanked Allah many times for sending Mr Jake into their lives, but does so again with a silent prayer as he gazes up at the stars.

  There is a sad note to the day, though, which he can’t push away – Akmed. Naveed is angry with himself for not chasing after his cousin when he walked out that afternoon. He so wanted Akmed to be part of their happiness, to join in their joy. He should never have let him go. But he did, and now his cousin may well have gone forever.

  He understands Akmed’s feelings; losing his whole family that way would have to leave the deepest of scars. He understands Akmed’s outrage about the burning of the Quran, too
. What Muslim wouldn’t be outraged? He understands the anger and the urge for revenge as well. These are natural emotions in the face of such crimes. But Naveed knows that they are not good emotions; you cannot build anything on them. They only grow more of the same.

  Earlier that afternoon when Akmed and Anoosheh were arguing, Naveed could feel his cousin’s anger and hatred like a physical force, a wall. He wanted to say something then. He wanted to tell Akmed that there was a better way, one with tolerance and understanding. But his cousin would not have listened – he was far too incensed – and then the opportunity passed. Now it would probably never arise again.

  Naveed peers up the lane, hoping Akmed will appear. ‘Where is he?’ he whispers, gently stroking Nasera – waiting, wishing.

  After a while he stands. He leads Nasera to her basket and puts her to bed. But then, as he is about to enter the house he hears his father’s voice.

  Never despair. Tomorrow is a new—

  Yes, Padar, I know – a new day that brings new light. Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten your words: I will always seek the light.

  Chapter 32

  ‘He’s forgotten.’

  ‘No, Madar. He would never forget.’

  ‘Nonsense, Naveed. Men forget everything. You forgot to wake up this morning.’

  ‘I did not forget to wake up.’

  ‘You did so. I had to shake you awake.’

  ‘Yes, I know, long before sunrise. Because you couldn’t sleep we had to sit around for hours.’

  ‘Well, there’s no point in being late.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Madar, there is no chance of that.’

  Naveed is waiting with his mother and sister for Mr Omaid. Last night he agreed he’d take them to Bagram Airfield in the morning, in his truck, arranging to pick them up at the top of the lane that leads from their house.

  ‘Oh dear.’ Naveed’s mother suddenly thrusts her hand to her mouth. ‘Perhaps we’re late,’ she shrieks. ‘Do you think Mr Omaid has given up waiting for us and gone?’

  ‘Please!’ Anoosheh shouts. ‘Stop it!’

  ‘What?’ Her mother looks surprised. ‘Stop what?’

  Anoosheh leans on her crutches, frowning. ‘Worrying, stressing, fretting. Please stop, Madar. You’re making us all nervous.’

  ‘Yes, but if Mr Omaid has—’

  ‘Madar!’ Anoosheh growls this time, surprising Naveed as well. ‘Mr Omaid has not gone, and he is not late. We are early, that’s all. Very, very early. So please sit down.’

  ‘Very well. As you wish.’ Her mother sniffs and perches on the edge of a low rock wall. ‘Have it your way.’ She fidgets with her scarf for a little while. ‘But if we’re—’

  ‘Shush!’ Both Naveed and Anoosheh pounce on her this time.

  She recoils at once. ‘My lips are sealed,’ she says, holding a finger up to her mouth.

  Naveed leans down and pats Nasera. His mother looks askance at the animal and huffs.

  ‘Why is the dog coming to the hospital?’ she asks, drumming her fingers on the wall.

  ‘Mr Jake asked me to bring her, Madar. Who knows? Maybe he has some good news for her as well.’

  ‘Very funny.’ She turns away and searches the traffic.

  ‘Here he is,’ Anoosheh shouts.

  Mr Omaid’s brightly decorated jingle truck slips out of the heavy traffic and pulls up in front of them. ‘Sorry I’m late,’ he says, climbing down from the cabin. ‘A breakdown on the road.’ He throws his arms in the air. ‘Come, all aboard.’

  He leads them around to the passenger’s side, helping Anoosheh into the cabin and lending a hand to her mother. Naveed goes to the back of the truck, lifts Nasera on and is about to clamber up himself when Akmed appears from the lane and walks towards him.

  ‘Wait, Mr Omaid,’ Naveed calls. ‘Madar. Look who it is.’

  A cry of delight bursts from the cabin. ‘He has come back,’ Naveed’s mother exclaims. ‘Thanks be to Allah.’

  ‘Are you all right?’ Naveed asks as Akmed reaches him. His cousin’s face is ashen, his eyes sunken, dark shadows under them, while the bulky black coat he wears makes him appear even paler. And smaller; it is far too big for him. ‘You look terrible.’

  Akmed ignores Naveed’s comment. ‘I want to come with you.’

  ‘Of course. No one is more welcome. Let me help you up.’ Naveed reaches out to him.

  ‘I’m fine,’ Akmed replies, grabbing at the rail. His hand is shaking and his grip looks weak.

  ‘But cousin, I can see you’re not—’

  ‘I said, I’m fine,’ Akmed snaps. ‘A little tired, that’s all. Leave me be.’

  Naveed stands back while his cousin climbs aboard, then follows.

  ‘You’ve brought the dog,’ Akmed complains as soon as Naveed is on the truck.

  ‘Yes. My friend asked me to. We—’

  ‘That dog doesn’t like me. Look how he stares at me.’

  ‘She, Akmed. Nasera’s a female. And you’re wrong – she does like you. See, she’s sniffing you again, as before.’

  ‘Yes. Getting ready to bite, I’m sure. Keep her away from me.’ Akmed steps warily around Nasera and hurries to the front of the truck. But she tags him, continuing to sniff. ‘Keep her away, I said!’

  Naveed clips a leash onto Nasera’s collar, and ties her up at his side, well away from Akmed. Even so, his cousin still fidgets, increasing the gap between them. Naveed wants to say something, but decides to leave it for the moment. Perhaps the drive and some fresh air will improve things. He taps the roof and calls out to Mr Omaid. The truck clunks into gear and trundles off.

  The drive actually makes things worse. It is slow and tedious, the traffic endlessly stopping and starting. This makes Akmed even more edgy. He huffs and sighs, glancing behind or craning his neck to peer ahead. Naveed can feel the tension coming from his cousin, and decides that he has to speak up.

  ‘What’s wrong, Akmed?’

  ‘Nothing, I tell you. Nothing. Why won’t you believe me?’

  ‘Because I’m not blind. You’re shaking, you’re as pale as a ghost, you look as if you haven’t slept all night and you’re so on edge.’

  Akmed moderates his tone a little at this. ‘I’m sorry if I’m jumpy. I don’t mean to be. I had a bad night. Thinking, you know? Lots of thinking. Allah helped me search my soul.’

  ‘I guessed as much,’ Naveed replies, trying to sound understanding. ‘At least you decided to come back to us. I’m glad of that.’ His cousin shrugs at this but doesn’t reply. ‘So where did you sleep last night?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Akmed mutters. ‘In a doorway somewhere, I think.’

  ‘It must have been freezing.’

  Akmed only grunts.

  ‘Lucky you had that coat.’

  ‘Coat?’ Akmed glares at Naveed. ‘What about the coat?’

  ‘Aram shoo – calm down.’ Naveed backs off, shocked at the wildness in his cousin’s eyes. ‘I only meant how lucky you were to have the coat last night. To keep you warm.’

  ‘Warm?’ Akmed scowls. ‘Yes, I suppose so,’ he adds, then looks away. They have reached the outskirts of Bagram Airfield. He peers ahead and nods. ‘Not long now,’ he says, as much to himself as anyone.

  Naveed doesn’t need to look ahead. He knows exactly where they are. They’ve just entered the narrow avenue leading to Entry Control Point One, about to join the long queue of trucks slowly weaving around blast blocks and over speed bumps. He’s seen the queues before and knows that this part of the trip will take a while. That doesn’t worry him at all. It’s his cousin that he’s concerned about. There is definitely something very odd about him.

  Naveed can’t stop thinking about Akmed’s sudden outburst over his coat, of all things! Why would he get so worked up by something like that? It doesn’t make sense.

  Unless . . .

  Naveed stares at Akmed and a chilling thought slowly creeps up on him. He stares at his cousin’s shaking hands, at his face and neck wet with
sweat, at his lips now moving rapidly as if talking to himself. No, he’s praying – his cousin is praying. Finally Naveed stares at the big bulky coat that at first just made Akmed look a bit comical. And gradually – terrifyingly – he understands what he is staring at.

  A suicide bomber.

  Cousin Akmed is a suicide bomber!

  Chapter 33

  Naveed breaks into a cold sweat. Impossible, he tells himself. Ridiculous. He must be imagining it. But then Nasera tugs at her leash, straining to get closer to Akmed, and all the doubt instantly vanishes.

  How could he have been so blind? So stupid? That’s why Nasera was sniffing Akmed in the lane that night – she could smell the residue of explosives on him. And now she can smell the bomb on him, wrapped around his body, no doubt, packed into the lining of that coat.

  This nightmare is real, and Naveed is right in the middle of it. So are his mother and sister. And Mr Omaid. At the very least he has to get them as far away as possible. But how? Akmed is so tense that any sudden move, anything to raise suspicion might tip him over the edge.

  Naveed’s throat is bone dry, his head spinning, and he feels as if he’ll faint at any moment.

  ‘What are you staring at?’

  He only just hears his cousin’s voice, for it is almost drowned out by the wave of panic washing over him. He grips the railing to steady himself.

  ‘What’s wrong with you?’ Akmed shouts.

  ‘Sorry, cousin,’ Naveed replies. Urging himself to keep calm, he takes a deep breath, trying to think what to say next. ‘I was daydreaming. It’s so slow, getting into the base. I just drifted off and was staring into space.’

  ‘What’s all the delay?’

  ‘Inspections. Papers, vehicles, people. But they’re mainly checking for, er, bombs.’ Naveed stumbles over the word, hoping his cousin won’t notice.