Time of Gifting
Page 9
With a respectful nod of his head, Haji took her burden from her as she turned away and went to find the rest of her party. The other women were not too hard to find. All six of them were milling around, idly examining things and talking. As soon as Mary came into view, they surrounded her, chattering about how there was nothing to buy and that even Naomi was finding it difficult to get good pictures.
The two photographers told her that the lighting was tricky and that such a stark landscape did not offer much scope for exciting photos. After a spirited discussion, Mary told Abdul that she thought they could head back for the city.
The young driver had completed the errands that Mary had requested of him and headed off toward the village headman’s house to let them know they were leaving. When Abdul reappeared, he was accompanied by the headmen who pleaded with the women to have a meal before they left.
When the scruffy man explained that a group of the women had been cooking most of the day for their visitors' entertainment, none of the Americans felt like they could leave without at least tasting the dishes.
To everyone’s surprise, the food was terrific. Delicious and flavorful, the pallet of flavorings burst in their mouths and perfumed the air. Patty and some of the others were asking quick questions about the food preparation and the spices that were used. Abdul and Jumal could not translate fast enough, so the two men accompanied Mary’s party into the kitchen to talk to the cooks.
For some reason, Mary was exhausted and lingered over her last cup of tea. Staring idly at their bus and thinking of the trip back to the hotel, the American woman noted the many people that walked past the tour vehicle as they moved from the village to a worn pathway.
For a while, the group leader played a game in her head, trying to imagine what the people were doing in the pathway. Ranging from young men driving goats ahead of them to women carrying water jugs, Mary amused herself with making stories of what they were going to or coming from.
Mary was pulled out of her daze when she felt a stab of recognition and realized that the two men that were just coming up from behind the tour bus looked very similar to men she had seen the previous day in the spice market. Staring at the duo, she finally dismissed her thought, concluding that she was getting overly tired and needed to take a nap. Any further ruminations were stopped as the rest of her tour erupted out of the kitchen, speaking loudly and cheerfully.
The group leader listened to the happy conversation while Abdul elaborately thanked the headman and promised to return. Obediently following Jumal and Haji, Mary made sure that all of her friends were back into the tour vehicle before she wearily dragged her own body up the steps.
Pausing briefly by Abdul only long enough for him to murmur, “It is all done.” The group leader made her way back to her quieter seat in the rear of the bus and settled with an exhausted sigh. Mary knew they were headed back toward the city now and would sleep in their clean beds tonight.
Thinking to herself, I am desperate for a shower, maybe even a soak in the tub. Clean sheets and a firm mattress are going to feel like heaven. If
Chapter 13 – Riding the Bus
The afternoon sun cast a warm glow over the mountainous terrain, illuminating the old cracked road that the bus traveled along. Awakening after a short nap, the murmurs of the other women in the bus had lulled Mary into a sense of contemplative stupor. Their low-toned discussions formed a soothing backdrop to her skittering thoughts.
The woman kept pushing on the feeling of dread that had increased each day, struggling to pin it down to anything specific. Trying to be honest with herself, Mary could not tell if it was a premonition driven by the tidal wave of different encounters and situations in which they found themselves, or something more. Even considering possible reasons was challenging.
Mary knew that she was close to the place that had occupied her thoughts since the planning of this trip. In the decades of her life, Mary could not remember anything at all that had filled her with the same degree of dread and desperate need ever since it was decided to take this tour. The uneasiness in her stomach and the slight pounding of the blood in her veins combined to create a cocktail of anticipation. She took a deep breath, releasing it slowly and determinedly dragged her attention back to the here and now.
Thank goodness for my ‘textile friends.’ I would never have made it here without them, she thought gratefully. Even though we met in a grief support group, I believe we have been good for each other’s souls.
Mary looked toward the front of the small bus at the foursome directly behind the driver. They were an incongruous group. All-female and all smiling, but different in other ways. Naomi was a tall and slender woman with a pale complexion and very dark hair. She was bent slightly toward and over Geri, the oldest member of their group who had skin as black as night and hair entirely white. Chatting animatedly with them were twins, Patty and Pam. The sisters had similar gray-streaked red hair and deep green eyes, looking like identical images of each other. Even in their fifties, their freckles made them look ridiculously young.
Each of the women had some form of rug or fabric in their hands. The group’s visit with the small villages had been both pleasant and productive. The native weavers had shown the group a series of interesting techniques and even some new ways of dying fiber that were greeted with excitement and energetic handwaving all around.
Of course, everyone had bartered or purchased items. Mary thought happily about the rugs and other purchases that were carefully stowed in the bus’ luggage compartment and on the seat beside her. Even though she had obtained local money, the village women preferred to barter for the Americans’ things. Who knew that the pens and the T-shirts I packed were worth so much? Mary thought contentedly.
The woman turned her attention to the other side of the bus, where the remaining two members of their small group were stretched out and asleep on the bench seats. Jean was dozing underneath one of the rugs she had purchased, and Connie was examining a handmade bag intently. Wondering what Connie was looking at, Mary stood up and grabbed the back of the bus seat to steady herself, when suddenly it seemed like the world ended in an explosion.
It was as if a giant hand had grabbed their small bus and thrown it high into the air, accompanied by a crash of percussive sound and the screech of ripping metal. Unseen forces smashed into the vehicle. The inhabitants were violently thrown in whipsawed directions as windows exploded into a shrapnel shower of glass.
They were falling through the air, loose items seeming to go upward while they fell down. It was a nightmare feeling, out of control and surreal.
The smash of the bus returning to the ground ripped every iota of air from Mary’s lungs, and she felt hot, slashing pain in her ribs. As the entire vehicle began to roll over on its side, the woman curled her arms over her head in a futile attempt to ward off danger. The bus had landed with a horrible crash, teetered briefly onto its side before continuing its fall, rolling over and over again. Bodies were thrown everywhere, accompanied by screams and the sounds of breaking glass.
Mary’s arms were struck by the flying contents and the intrusion of the surrounding environment's rocky outcroppings as the bus rolled down the slope, forcing the unyielding spikes of stone into the bus's interior and ripping vicious slashes in the already damaged chassis. The disorientation of the vehicle’s bouncing and rolling fall finally came to a jarring halt, raising a choking cloud of dust and dirt.
There was a brief instant of quiet when Mary muzzily wondered if she were dead. It was as if the world held its breath, and there was no sound. Then dimly, as if from a distance, sharp popping sounds split the silence. First, there was a rapid pattering of staccato beats, answered by slower, lower-toned percussive sounds. After a short time, the frequency of the sounds diminished until silence ruled again.
The momentary relief of that quiet was all too soon shattered with a clashing of noises that hurt her ears and added to her confusion. Screams combined sobs against the backdrop
of a persistent hissing sound. Mary felt as if she were caught between two realities, one that resided in silence and the other that overwhelmed her with noise and smells. The woman knew that she was stepping back and forth between the two, finally realizing, I must be in shock. Otherwise, how could I be both freezing and too hot?
Mary inhaled deeply before anchoring herself in the real world around her. Somehow, she had become entangled with Connie, and they had landed on a curved metal surface. She could feel the other woman shaking in her arms, but neither of them spoke. Carefully disengaging, Mary straightened painfully and took stock of their situation.
The interior of the bus look like a tornado had ripped through it. There were bags, rugs, and bodies tossed randomly around the seats, and lengths of fabric draping down from seatbacks. At first, Mary stood slightly hunched over and hugging her sides, staring in non-comprehension at the confusing scene. It didn’t make any sense to the group leader until she realized that the bus was upside down. In astonishment, she looked down and saw the curved surface. Numbly, the woman thought to herself, This is the ceiling! It is not flat, which is why I am having problems standing straight.
The relief of finding some orientation to the bizarre scene filled Mary with an almost irrepressible bubble of hysterical laughter. Managing to suppress her mirth with difficulty, she struggled painfully to stay upright just as more sound filled the bus.
Frightened voices, crying sobs, and a peculiar hissing sound now filled the air in the vacuum left by the violence of their landing.
Mary forced her thoughts into coherency, thinking, We have survived, but I have no idea how well and how long that will continue. With an effort to work past the greyness that clogged her brain, Mary focused on finding out what state she and her friends were in.
The group leader started with Connie. A quick examination showed that the other woman was frightened but essentially unharmed except for various bruises and scratches. However, she appeared stunned and shocked. Mary picked up a small rug that had landed close by and tucked it around her shaking friend. Patting her gently, the group leader said, “Just stay here for a moment, dear, while I check the others.”
Loud sobs were coming from the front of the bus, so Mary headed there next. Crawling carefully and painfully on her hands and knees, the woman made her way over to what appeared to be a pile of arms and legs.
The crying came from someone on the bottom. Murmuring phrases of comfort and encouragement without thinking, Mary started to untangle what appeared to be a pair of her friends.
Mary gently straightened tangled limbs and touched Pam’s face, looking and feeling for injuries. When the group leader could see awareness seep back into her friend’s eyes, she gently helped the stunned woman sit up. Immediately, Pam held her hand to a visible lump on the side of her head and moaned softly.
The spike of fear ran down Mary’s spine, and she spoke urgently, “Pam, honey, can you look at me?” Slowly and carefully, the seated woman turned to focus on her group leader. Mary leaned closer, seeing with relief that both pupils looked to be equal size. Vowing to check her frequently, Mary went back to triaging her friends.
The shuddering figure that had been covered by Pam’s body was her twin sister, Patty. The woman was clearly in shock, with unfocused vision and blood dripping down her face.
“Patty, where do you hurt?” asked Mary urgently.
The sobbing woman appeared not even to hear her, locked in the shock of the event. Mary quickly ran her hands over the other woman but didn’t find any particular injury. Another slower and more thorough check showed that the stunned woman had avoided any major injuries but had some sluggishly bleeding deep scratches.
Closing her eyes, Mary thought to herself, I do not like the knock on the head that Pam took at all. But both Connie and Patty appeared to have come through the accident reasonably well. I am hoping and praying that everyone else also did.
Mary took a deep breath in preparation and then opened her eyes and looked around. On her left, she saw Geri was carefully checking Naomi for injuries. Neither one of them appeared to be in immediate or major danger, so the remaining sounds of pain drew Mary onto the next heap.
The injured person was Jean. Although the rug that she had been sleeping under had saved her from some of the damage, the glass shards from the windows had penetrated through the thick pile.
At first glance, it looked to Mary like a bizarre porcupine had landed on the carpet. A multitude of shiny spikes of glass stood like quills along the rug as it followed the curves of its captive. Moving the edge of the carpet carefully away from the end that was emitting the cries of pain, Mary saw the frightened and agonized face of her oldest friend.
Jean’s typically perfectly groomed blonde hair was sticking out in random directions, some tinged a pink tone from blood. Her brown eyes were darkened by fear and pain, and tears trickled down her cheeks. She managed a tremulous smile when Mary gently picked glass particles from her face but seemed incapable of speech. Murmuring words of gentle support, Mary carefully started to lift the rug away from her friend’s body.
The injured woman’s sobs reduced in frequency and loudness as Mary gently began to remove the glass-infested rug. As Mary took stock, she acknowledged that it could have been worse. Most of the shards of glass had been caught by the thick carpet. It was not until Mary started to shift the covering from Jean’s legs that a sharply-drawn breath warned her to take care.
Telling the injured woman to take a deep breath and hold it, Mary firmly but quickly lifted the remaining carpet away in one motion. A growing pool of fresh blood met her appalled gaze, indicating that at least one of the shards had gone deep enough to puncture. Mary’s stomach flipped with an upwelling of nausea, but she kept focused and continued to gently examine Jean.
Despite the blood-soaked condition, Mary soon realized that there were only three wounds of particular concern. Relieved that none of them were spurting blood, a closer examination showed that one of them had cut more than an inch into Jean’s calf muscle.
Trying to decide what to do next, Mary was startled when Geri’s voice spoke right beside her. The oldest member of their group appeared to be moving well, although scratches on her face and arms showed minor signs of bleeding, and a small splash of blood showed against her white hair.
So intent was the group leader on evaluating the last of her friends that, at first, she made no sense out of what the woman was saying. Finally, Geri gave Mary’s forearm a little shake, snapping the woman back into the present. The older woman said, “I’ve got this, Mary. Naomi is all right, although scratched up and very shaken. I will finish taking care of Jean, but I think you better look at Abdul. He’s not moving, and his head is twisted at a funny angle.”
Mary’s heart lurched as Geri’s face twisted into a grimace of controlled grief, before the older woman added, “ I didn’t want to upset the others, but I think he’s dead.”
The group leader’s heart lurched in her chest with pending grief, and she had to steady her breathing before she began to move. Driven by a need to know, Mary began to make her way toward the bus’s front after one last gentle kiss on Jean’s forehead.
Mary’s dread at what she would find was like the welling of water from a broken pipe. Flashed images of Abdul and his cheerful smile, thoughtful gestures, and devoted attention to his charges’ needs tormented her as she navigated the destruction surrounding the front of the bus.
The damage here was worse than any other place. The front window was smashed and hung in jagged icicles of glass. The supporting framework was twisted and bent, resembling nothing so much as a metal pretzel. As Mary moved, she could feel the debris under her feet slip and slide.
To keep her balance, the group leader was walking with her arms out, but that increased the agony in her ribs. Sweat poured down her face, and she had to keep brushing it away to see. Gasping from the effort, Mary had to stop several times to slow her breathing down to manage her pain.
Thinking to herself, If Abdul is dead, we will mourn him. If he still lives, he will need someone to help him like he has assisted us, Mary continued to move toward the crumpled body of their young guide.
Chapter 14 – Scavenging
It had taken some doing, but almost everyone was out of the bus, even Abdul. Their driver had taken a nasty blow to the head, and his neck had been twisted badly. As much as Mary could tell, the young man was merely unconscious, but she worried that he might have a skull fracture. It looked like he had been injured at impact since his only expression was one of astonishment.
Once the women had crawled out of the broken windows to take stock, Mary and Pam had managed to drag Abdul through a gap in the downhill side. They laid him carefully beside a pile of rocks, placing a piece of fabric over the rock pile and slanted out to form a lean-to. Pam sat on the ground next to him, occasionally trickling water into his open mouth. Mary had seen her motherly friend massaging the young Afghani’s throat and hoped that she was getting some liquid into him because the day was blazingly hot.
Getting Jean out of the damaged vehicle had posed different challenges. Covered with cuts and lightheaded from loss of blood, the woman was unable to stand by herself. Mary and Geri had teamed up to extract her, entirely ignoring her whispered pleas to just leave her and keep themselves safe.
When her oldest friend kept begging them not to bother with her, Mary finally lost her temper, snapping, “No, we are not going to abandon you. What sort of friends do you think we are? How dare you try to commit suicide on a martyr's altar! I am not going to mourn your ass, so shut your mouth until we get you out of here!” The group leader realized that she was shouting by the end of her speech and took a breath to calm down.