For the Love of a Son: One Afghan Woman's Quest for Her Stolen Child by Jean Sasson

Author:Jean Sasson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: losing a child, divorce, islam, womens studies, muslim women, gender studies, womens rights, women in the middle east, women in afghanistan, stolen child, islamic women, middle eastern women, islam and gender, middle eastern memoir, islam and divorce
Publisher: Jean Sasson

Chapter XI

For years New Delhi had been a place where our family vacationed. We had always arrived in the city in a happy mood of anticipation. But our mood was grave when we arrived on 27 December. Our first stop was to see Mr and Mrs Delep, a Hindu couple who had put us up on our vacations, who were startled by our unexpected arrival. But they were such good hosts that they had an elaborate Indian lunch prepared almost instantly. While we ate, Papa began to tell them about the bad times that had come to Afghanistan. They reacted with sympathy to our desperate plight.

I excused myself from the room so that I could discreetly retrieve the bag of Afghan soil from where I had hidden it in my bra. I walked back into the room and said, ‘Papa, look. This is for you.’

Papa glanced at the bag of soil with a puzzled expression before recognizing its significance. He grabbed me in his arms and kissed my forehead and hair over and over.

After our meal ended, Mr Delep escorted us to the small, furnished two-bedroom house in Greater Klash Colony that we would rent from him. It was near his house, so the couple would continue to take care of our needs.

Still wondering when we would hear the reasons behind the Soviet military activity at the airport, I went to bed almost immediately, and slept soundly only because I was physically exhausted.

Early the next morning, Papa woke me with loud shouts. ‘Maryam! Wake up! Maryam!

He was listening to the BBC, his favorite radio station. ‘Maryam! I can’t believe it. The Russians! It was an invasion! As we were leaving, daughter! Afghanistan has just been occupied.’

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. ‘What did you say?’

‘They are all dead. The Russians killed President Amin and his entire family.’

‘Dead?’ I repeated in disbelief. It was impossible to imagine him dead. Although I hated him for bringing communism to my country, and had wanted him out of office and out of the country, he was not a man I would wish dead.

Of course, our first thoughts were of Mother and all our relatives. They were in danger. It was unbearable.

Then Nadia burst through the door. She was in medical school in Bangalore, but Papa had called her upon our arrival and she had taken time off to meet us in New Delhi.

Papa explained to Nadia all that had occurred since she was last in Kabul. That’s when I learned something I had not known before. Mother had insisted that Papa accompany me, rather than herself, because Papa was in danger of being arrested. A friend with high government connections had passed on a warning that the communist regime was putting in place a plan to exterminate all military officers who had formerly been loyal to the royal family. It made no difference if the officer was long retired. It was probable that Papa would have been arrested and executed if he had stayed.

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