Thunder Over Kandahar by Sharon McKay

Author:Sharon McKay
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: JUV030110, book
Publisher: Annick Press
Published: 2010-08-31T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

Shadow of the Sky

White-hot terror pinioned them in place. Neither drew a breath. And then Yasmine said, “We cannot wear these burkas. They attract attention. They are too new, too beautiful.” She spoke quickly and with authority.

“I know what to do. Look.” Tamanna pointed to a large family group led by an old man clutching a hooked staff. They were walking, one after another, across the flat, desert plain, pushing a herd of bony goats ahead. The goats fanned out in different directions. She also knew what they were hoping—that a goat, rather than a man or a valuable donkey, would trigger a land mine. The old man and young children followed the goats, and behind him came a line of women carrying babies and leading burdened donkeys.

“Give me your burka, hurry.” Tamanna pulled her burka up over her head, balled it under her arm, and knotted her headscarf under her chin.

“Why?” Yasmine took off her burka and handed it to Tamanna. She, too, covered her hair with the scarf that lay around her neck.

“I’ll explain later.” Tamanna kicked off her shoes, pivoted on bare feet, and ran towards the family. Yasmine watched as Tamanna moved across the sand with unexpected grace. She was amazed. Tamanna, so shy, seemed to have transformed right in front of her!

“Asalaam alaikum,” she called out to the women.

A girl carrying a baby at the end of the column turned back and stared at Tamanna. She called out to the other women in the group. Then all the women stopped and turned. One, two, five, then six women gathered around Tamanna. Even the children nudged into the circle to listen. Unaware, the goats and the old man trudged on. Yasmine, sitting on her haunches, almost laughed out loud at the thought of the old man and his goats walking alone, forever, until they fell off the face of the earth.

The women and girls passed the blue burkas around, fingering the material. Yasmine watched from a distance as heads bobbed like pecking birds and hands flew up in the air, a sign that the bargaining had begun. Twice Tamanna turned as if to walk away. Twice the woman pulled her back into the negotiating circle. Even the children and animals seemed to be in on the discussion. And then the circle broke up and Tamanna came running across the sand towards Yasmine.

“I wanted to make an exchange—beautiful burkas for old, dirty ones—but there was mistrust.” She was holding her side and puffing. “So, I demanded . . . money . . . too.” Tamanna opened a clenched fist to reveal the paper money. Under her arm were two filthy, torn burkas. They were both the color of mud, full of holes, and frayed at the hem.

Tamanna peered into the distance. It looked as though a small sandstorm was rolling along the road towards them. “Quickly, put it on.” Tamanna tossed Yasmine the nicer of the two burkas, put the food bag over her shoulder, threw the other burka overtop, and clutched the embroidered patoo to her chest.

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