On the heels of Arghandab, as General Gromov was busy working out exit details, the fighting continued, though with a difference. Outside the major towns and villages there was little to gain by engaging the mujahideen, as it would mean either unnecessary loss of men and assets or the additional defection of DRA forces. Neither of these would advance the Soviet cause, so the fighting took on a noticeably lower tempo. The mujahideen for their part had no interest in attacking the major cities and roads. They preferred to dig in with extremely well defended positions but would readily ambush the enemy whenever they became aware of large impending troop or hardware movements.
Life in Laghar Juy acquired the quality of an almost forgotten peace. People farmed and rebuilt their homes, and even began to engage in recreation. A favorite activity among the villagers was to head up into the gentle, lower slopes of the Spin Ghar for leisurely walks or picnics. In late July, Noor decided to organize such an outing in honor of Ejaz and Hinna on the slopes near Laghar Juy’s stream. They would cook a lamb and make kebabs and steaks out in the open. At this time, with the snowmelt in full force, the stream flowed more fully and briskly as it drained into the Kabul River near Batawul. It needed to be approached with some caution, so the family gathered near the shade of a cluster of walnut trees about fifty meters from its east bank.
While Abdul Latif and his two sons slaughtered the lamb, Ejaz and Saleem buried a clay pot in the ground. They fired it up with wood to form a primitive but highly effective tandoor. Once the lamb was completely cooked, Noor and Hinna had the task of combining the meat with fresh vegetables and coarse bread. Meanwhile, Usman, Rabia, Saleem and Sikander took a stroll along the edge of the stream.
Having shed her initial stranger-shyness in front of Usman, Rabia, as usual, did most of the talking. “Brother Usman, you know I’ve tried to get Sikander to say something about Scotland, but he always brushes me off with simple remarks. I know that you and your brother, may Allah grant him jannah, were also there. Perhaps you can tell me more?”
Usman paused, wearing a distant look. “Seems like a dream now, Rabia.”
“Sikander only says it was…beautiful,” Rabia shrugged, rolling her eyes.
Continuing the distant stare, Usman opened up: “It took us all day and was dark when we got there. We were taken to a cabin and dropped to sleep exhausted from the travel, but when we awoke I was amazed to see such a scene.”
“Yes?”
“There was a large stretch of water in front of us, and small islands with hills dotting the water, and behind those were even bigger ones. The sun set by sinking behind those islands and, Sikander’s right, each sunset was truly beautiful. Irfan and I would… ” Usman stopped and shrugged.
“Did you ever get to the water or visit the mountains?” Rabia asked. Sikander looked on with interest. Her handling of Usman’s sensibilities made her all the more attractive to him.
“We did once. The soldiers took us in a bus. It took us through such scenic country.” Usman smiled.
“What was it like to fly in a helicopter?”
“See what I mean, Usman?” interjected Sikander.
The men laughed. Rabia pouted.
“I don’t mind,” Usman continued, directing a sympathetic glance toward Rabia. “It’s great, Rabia. The ground gets farther and farther away and it doesn’t seem like you’re really moving. Just floating.”
“You’ve a wonderful way of describing it.” Rabia cast a mild scowl at Sikander for failing to be as evocative in his own descriptions. It was Sikander’s turn to roll his eyes.
“Certainly you—Oh! Aghhh!” Rabia shrieked as her left leg sank into some deceptively muddy soil that not only captured her foot but also under the added weight broke off from the bank and knocked her off balance. In an instant, Rabia became one with the flowing water, leaving everyone else in frozen surprise.
“Heeeelllllp!” she screamed as she was carried downstream. The water was barely two meters deep, but its speed was sufficient to make it hard to find a footing. The rest of the group in the background heard her screams and immediately Ejaz and Abdul Latif dropped their work to see what was wrong.
God! She’ll drown! Sikander’s heart sank.
“Helllllp!” Rabia shrieked once again. Without further thought, Sikander whipped off his turban and outer jacket, broke off the dead branch of a nearby tree, and ran. Fortunately he was able to catch up with her as he cut across a large bend in the stream to see her approaching him near a point where the stream was wider.
“Rabia! Grab this branch!” he shouted. If she couldn’t remain near the water’s edge, there would be no option but to jump in after her.
“I…caaaaaan’t!” Her voice was barely audible over the sound of the rushing water. She was being pulled away from the bank as her entire body began to feel the water’s frigid onslaught. Taught to swim back in University Public School, Sikander knew he had to go in after her. He dropped the dead branch and leapt into the water.
After several seemingly interminable seconds he reached her, and grabbed her arm in a vise-like grip. Now together, the two of them were swept further along when, luckily, an eddy caught them. Pulling them back to the edge, the eddy enabled Sikander to grab the branch of a bush with his right hand, promptly arresting their motion. He held on to Rabia’s arm for dear life with his other hand, while locking one of his legs around the bush. With himself secure, he pulled Rabia close enough to the bank for her to find her own footing, and to use her free hand to grab the bush. Once Sikander was sure she was safe, he allowed Usman to help him out of the water while Saleem, who had never learned to swim, helped his sister. Rabia and Sikander lay down on the grassy bank, short of breath and shivering in the warm air.
“Are…you…all…right…Ra…bia?” Sikander gasped, his wet chest heaving under his soaked qamees.
Her eyes closed, Rabia nodded. Still panting, she was unable to utter anything. By now Ejaz, Abdul Latif, and Noor had reached them. Noor took off her shawl and wrapped her daughter in it as much to guard her modesty as dry her off. Regaining his breath, Sikander arose and took off his qamees allowing himself to start drying in the open air.
“Rabia, pay attention to what you’re doing instead…instead of just chatt…chattering.” Still shivering, Sikander tried to maintain his dignity, dressed only in soaking wet shalwar pants, his dripping qamees now held in front of him, guarding his own modesty.
Crying and giggling, Rabia stared at Sikander, amused by his appearance and feeling considerable joy from not having drowned. When she finally grew aware of her own comic situation, the laughter won out and didn’t take long to infect Sikander.
The rest of the onlookers watched with curiosity, relieved and thankful for the safe rescue of Rabia. Seeing that disaster had been averted, they decided not to let it ruin their day and ambled back to the picnic spot.
As their clothes dried in the sun, the hot tandoori lamb aided greatly in the recovery of the two water brats. Usman expressed his regret at having let Rabia get so carried away with what he was saying that she wasn’t paying attention to where she was walking. Knowing Rabia, everyone else quickly absolved him of any responsibility.
Comments about her experience soon morphed into jokes about Rabia almost getting herself killed. Sikander watched her as she defiantly countered her bothers’ and cousins’ jibes. As she did, he couldn’t help feeling a warm glow of sympathy for her. Feelings that had been taking shape over the past several months were now coalescing into something; something powerful stirring deep inside him. The thought moved him to glance at Ejaz, whom he could see already gazing in his direction with a penetrating stare and a serious smile. Ejaz had at least one question answered. He was not alone.
With the evidence mounting, Razya was now also sure. Indeed, for the most recent experience not to seem improper, one could do worse than propose marriage.
Rabia, meanwhile, was keenly aware of the debt she owed Sikander. But in this moment, consumed by a deep sense
of caring for the one who had cared for her enough to risk his life, she wanted to be with him and couldn’t explain to herself precisely why. He was surely the same Sikander she’d laughed and joked with, and yes, perhaps toyed and fought with, since losing her shyness with him all those months ago.
He was surely not.
Throughout the rest of the afternoon, Sikander and Rabia tried hard not to let what they were feeling become apparent to the rest of the group or, for that matter, each other. Each would occasionally steal a glance in the other’s direction and for the most part, hers didn’t coincide with his. The trying, however, was too intense to escape the watchful attentions of Ejaz and Razya, who could only hide their feelings until the time came to act.
The rest of the family seemed oblivious to these undercurrents. At least, if Abdul Latif was thinking of such things, he was being uncommonly masterful at keeping his thoughts from his face.
The warm sentiments born of the aftermath of the near drowning experience seemed to carry across the group. Slowly and discreetly, Ejaz shifted his position closer to Hinna. Her blue-green eyes were hypnotic, and he found himself experiencing a heightened tenderness toward his new bride, with whom he had spent hardly any time. Her patience at letting him be absent without complaint amplified his feelings. She understood the harsh realities of life in Afghanistan and knew that the recently completed mission was not an act of whimsy but her new husband’s dedication to a mission in which she believed even as strongly as he. Her captivating yet cheerful demeanor evoked in Ejaz the desire to be alone with her, away from the family; to learn her and be learned by her. They would be building the rest of their lives together and he wanted to press on with it.
“Would you like some more?” Hinna asked. “Ejaz?” Ejaz stared back at her, not hearing her question but merely enjoying the experience of her speaking his name. “Ejaaaz?”
“Hm? Oh, yes,” he replied holding out his plate.
The sun sank, draining the warmth from the air, as the shadows grew longer and cooler. It was time to clear up, toss the garbage in the stream, and head back to the village. It hadn’t been the kind of day that any of them had expected. But it had been interesting.
Ejaz and Hinna ambled a little further behind the rest, chatting amiably. They were now firmly on their path of mutual discovery. Rabia and Sikander could not, however, be seen to be doing the same. She remained by her mother’s side, overcompensating for her inner desires. Sikander also did his best to deflect attention away from him and her. He began talking about their experiences of Arghandab, at least the less painful ones, such as his fondness for the fragrance of pomegranate blossoms. He also launched a game similar to I-spy. He would say aloud an English word representing something he could see, and any of the rest of the group had to guess its Pashto counterpart. It entertained him to see Rabia winning, but pretending to guess the right answer only on her fourth or fifth attempt.
The families reached the village just as the sun was setting. It was time to perform the maghrib prayer, followed by isha. With the afternoon’s heavy meal and the other events, the night provided a deep and restful sleep.
When morning broke, Ejaz arrived at Abdul Latif’s house to chat with his aunt. Abdul Latif had gone back to sleep after fajr but Razya was awake, preparing breakfast.
“Assalaamu ‘alaykum, Aunt Razya,” greeted Ejaz.
“Wa ‘alaykum assalaam, Ejaz. Not breakfasting with Hinna this morning? Did you fight with her?” she teased. Dismissing the humor, he launched into his task.
“Aunt Razya. I wanted to talk to you about Sikander.”
“Oh? What’s he done?”
“Done? No, nothing like that. I just… I don’t know if you’ve considered this, but don’t you think he might be a good match for Rabia?”
Razya pretended nonchalance. “I suppose they could be a match,” she responded as she slapped another paratthha on her tawa. “But how would you feel about it, Ejaz?”
“I think you can see how I feel.”
“Hm. And Sikander?”
“I was with Sikander all the way to Qandahar. I spent nearly two months with him. I saw how he took poor Usman under his care and I’ve seen how—”
“Yes, yes, Ejaz, that’s all fine, but tell me, have you seen or learned what he thinks of Rabia? Has he told you what he thinks of her?”
“When we were going into Qandahar, he let me know how he felt but he truthfully couldn’t be sure.” I like that kind of honesty, mused Ejaz before continuing. “But, Aunt Razya, I’m sure now. It would be perfect if you came up with the idea and approached my mother. She would, of course, consult with me. I’d take the appropriate day or so to think about it before agreeing.”
“And what about Rabia? Don’t you need her to agree?”
“Huh! More than you imagine.”
Distracted from her paratthhas, Razya directed an intrigued frown at Ejaz.
“Well, yes. Look, I wanted to marry Hinna, but not just on the say-so of her parents. She had to agree, and huh! Alhamdulillah, she did. Why wouldn’t I want the same for Rabia? I know it’s not been our way in the past, but sisters or daughters aren’t livestock. We can’t treat them that way, especially if we claim to be Muslims.”
“Yes.” Razya sighed, wearing a cynical smile. She had time and again seen girls literally being sold to settle their fathers’ debts or in payment of a gambling obligation or simply handed over in the time-honored fashion of swara. Afghanistan might be a Muslim country, but that didn’t mean that the Muslims there, or anywhere else for that matter, could separate tribal custom from religion. “For what it’s worth, Ejaz, I agree with you. Besides, it is one of Allah’s blessings to assist a man and a woman to find each other in marriage. I’ll explore the idea with Noor, but before I make it a formal request will you confirm Sikander’s interest?”
Ejaz agreed, though he had no doubt about Sikander. He thanked his aunt and with the conspiracy launched, he returned home, Razya returned to her breakfast preparations, and in an adjacent room Sikander rolled over, smiling, before returning to snooze for another hour.
Later that day, Razya went to borrow a cup of red lentils from Noor. As she poured them into a small bag, she made her pitch. Noor took a few moments to absorb the idea before posing the anticipated questions.
“I could accept it, Sister, but what about Ejaz? His consent’s important.”
“Yes, of course, I can’t imagine proceeding without it. Let’s hope he’s favorable. Not to mention Rabia herself.”
“Rabia, you can leave to me,” offered Noor. “I’ll talk to her after you speak to Ejaz.”
Razya agreed and the two women parted. Each believed she was doing something noble.
As the extended family regrouped for the evening meal, Razya got the nod from Ejaz that Sikander seemed to be willing, triggering Razya’s confirmation, made in a quiet corner to Noor, of Ejaz’s assured consent. Noor was thus cleared to speak to Rabia, but in keeping with Hinna’s full rights as the wife of Ejaz, she, too, needed to be in on things. Since Hinna and Rabia had an excellent relationship, Noor saw an opportunity to tackle both questions by asking Hinna for her opinion, and to broach the subject with Rabia.
Later that same evening when Abdul Latif, his family, Sikander, and Usman left to go home, Noor approached Hinna.
“I’d like to discuss something.”
“Adey?” responded Hinna with appropriate Pashto respect.
“Hinna, Rabia’s almost seventeen, as you know, and should really have been spoken for by now but…well this accursed war…” Noor fumbled over the words with a nervous chuckle.
“Yes, I’ve wondered about that too. Adey, have you thought about Sikander?”
Noor studied Hinna for a moment. “Yes. Yes, Sikander, for example.” Her suspicion grew. “Do you think that would be a good match, Hinna?”
“I think so. I talk to Rabia a lot and I think she might be willing to marry him. I know they often argue but it’s really in good humor.
”
“Yes, I notice it too, but she’s only seventeen, Hinna, and a girl of that age, well…” With a suspended shrug, Noor rolled her eyes in mock weariness, wearing a tight-lipped smile.
“Perhaps if I talk to her?” Hinna replied.
Noor pretended unawareness of what she was now certain was going on and agreed that Hinna’s talking to Rabia might be a good next step.
It took only as long as the next encounter between the two young women, and with Rabia, only a direct approach would do.
“Rabia, what do you make of Sikander?”
“How do you mean?”
“I think you know how I mean.”
Succumbing to a rare blush Rabia stumbled through her answer. “He’s…well, he’s exotic, I think. You know? From Peshawar? He can be an annoying tease at times but he’s also very caring. Huh! I wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t come into the water after me. He’s…”
“Yes, Rabia?”
“He’s—Hinna, why are you asking?”
“Aba’i mentioned to me that you…you might be interested perhaps, in his marriage proposal?”
Rabia blushed again.
“Nothing formal’s been discussed, mind you, but there seems to be some interest. Rabia, it’s an excellent match don’t you think?”
Rabia looked down and smiled, conveying all that was needed.
The way was clear for Noor to ask more formally. Listening dutifully, Rabia accepted. Noor “broke” the news to Ejaz. Ejaz pretended to deliberate for about an hour before pronouncing his agreement and that Razya and Abdul Latif should in turn be asked to present it to Sikander. The “dance” went on for another day, by which time all parties agreed to an outcome that both Sikander and Rabia had hoped for all along. Yet cultural mores demanded proper protocol be followed and in the end everyone was satisfied. But there was a wrinkle.
Sikander was sitting on the floor in Abdul Latif’s main living room cleaning his Kalashnikov and lost in anticipation of becoming Rabia’s husband when Abdul Latif walked in after chatting with Razya.
SIkander Page 23
