friends.’
‘Then how do you know him?’ I asked.
‘I was working for an aid agency in Kabul,’ said Adeena. ‘You know that in Afghanistan it is very new for women to be allowed to work. Only the aid agencies and a very few government departments will employ us. I studied English language in school and then I found a job in Kabul, after 2001 when the Taliban left. I was working as a translator for two years. Then a few weeks ago the Taliban shot two people from our aid agency in the street.’
As she spoke I remembered reading about similar incidents. This part of what she was telling me sounded true at any rate. I reproached myself inwardly. Why shouldn’t her story be true?
‘They shot one good German man,’ Adeena continued, ‘and his bodyguard, right outside the office, in front of their car. I did not see, but I heard the shots and ran to the entrance. My friends were lying in the road. The men who had shot them just walked away. It is a busy street but no one tried to stop them. Everyone knew it was the Taliban. The police did nothing when they came. One policeman said to me: ‘‘They will shoot you too, because you are committing a crime against God, working for these Christians.’’ ’
Adeena yawned, covering her mouth with the back of her hand as she did so.
‘So how did Aseeb come into your life? You still haven’t explained that.’
‘Because I am very tired,’ said Adeena. ‘It is hard for me to remember and speak English at the same time. Aseeb came to me one day soon after. The people I worked for were talking about closing the office and going back to Europe. Aseeb came to my home. He told my brother to go outside and my brother went quickly. He gave me a look. He wanted me to be careful with this man. When we were alone, Aseeb told methat the Taliban knew who I was and where I lived, and would kill me in the next days because they wanted to show the Europeans that they could protect no one,
no one
, who worked for them. This was important politics for them. Aseeb told me this. ‘‘It is not you yourself they want to kill, but they need to kill you as an example.’’ ‘‘What can I do?’’ I asked. ‘‘Where can I go?’’ He told me he could help me. He took me away in his BMW before my brother came back. He said he would get me to England and give me an English passport as a favour to me, and in memory of my father, whom he once knew. He took me by plane to London.’
Adeena looked at me, as if asking me to understand. I nodded encouragingly. I was having difficulty, picturing Aseeb in the role of Good Samaritan.
‘How did he get you a visa?’
‘He told me to say I was his niece coming to learn English at a language school. It is easy to come if you say you are a student. But when I got to England he took me to that house and told me I would have to marry an Englishman, as a favour to him, in order to get an immigration permit and then an English passport. He said he would ask me to do certain favours for him in return.’
‘What favours?’ I asked. It seemed like a very important question, but I did not get an answer.
‘I am tired now,’ said Adeena. She stood up. ‘I wish to go to sleep. Can I stay here tonight?’
I stared at her. She looked so vulnerable when she said those words.
‘Yes, you can stay,’ I replied. ‘In the morning we will talk some more about what to do.’ I too felt overwhelmed by sleep as I spoke. It had been a long day. ‘That is my bedroom, through that door there. The sheets are clean. Andthat,’ I said, ‘is my bathroom. I’m sorry everything is so cramped. You can sleep in my room and I will sleep here on the sofa. Tomorrow we will decide what must be done.’
Adeena seemed relieved by these arrangements.
‘Thank you,’ she said. Then she asked, ‘What is the time now?’
‘Nearly midnight.’
‘Please wake me before dawn. I must pray at sunrise. I will go to sleep now.’ She went into the bathroom and then, a
‘Then how do you know him?’ I asked.
‘I was working for an aid agency in Kabul,’ said Adeena. ‘You know that in Afghanistan it is very new for women to be allowed to work. Only the aid agencies and a very few government departments will employ us. I studied English language in school and then I found a job in Kabul, after 2001 when the Taliban left. I was working as a translator for two years. Then a few weeks ago the Taliban shot two people from our aid agency in the street.’
As she spoke I remembered reading about similar incidents. This part of what she was telling me sounded true at any rate. I reproached myself inwardly. Why shouldn’t her story be true?
‘They shot one good German man,’ Adeena continued, ‘and his bodyguard, right outside the office, in front of their car. I did not see, but I heard the shots and ran to the entrance. My friends were lying in the road. The men who had shot them just walked away. It is a busy street but no one tried to stop them. Everyone knew it was the Taliban. The police did nothing when they came. One policeman said to me: ‘‘They will shoot you too, because you are committing a crime against God, working for these Christians.’’ ’
Adeena yawned, covering her mouth with the back of her hand as she did so.
‘So how did Aseeb come into your life? You still haven’t explained that.’
‘Because I am very tired,’ said Adeena. ‘It is hard for me to remember and speak English at the same time. Aseeb came to me one day soon after. The people I worked for were talking about closing the office and going back to Europe. Aseeb came to my home. He told my brother to go outside and my brother went quickly. He gave me a look. He wanted me to be careful with this man. When we were alone, Aseeb told methat the Taliban knew who I was and where I lived, and would kill me in the next days because they wanted to show the Europeans that they could protect no one,
no one
, who worked for them. This was important politics for them. Aseeb told me this. ‘‘It is not you yourself they want to kill, but they need to kill you as an example.’’ ‘‘What can I do?’’ I asked. ‘‘Where can I go?’’ He told me he could help me. He took me away in his BMW before my brother came back. He said he would get me to England and give me an English passport as a favour to me, and in memory of my father, whom he once knew. He took me by plane to London.’
Adeena looked at me, as if asking me to understand. I nodded encouragingly. I was having difficulty, picturing Aseeb in the role of Good Samaritan.
‘How did he get you a visa?’
‘He told me to say I was his niece coming to learn English at a language school. It is easy to come if you say you are a student. But when I got to England he took me to that house and told me I would have to marry an Englishman, as a favour to him, in order to get an immigration permit and then an English passport. He said he would ask me to do certain favours for him in return.’
‘What favours?’ I asked. It seemed like a very important question, but I did not get an answer.
‘I am tired now,’ said Adeena. She stood up. ‘I wish to go to sleep. Can I stay here tonight?’
I stared at her. She looked so vulnerable when she said those words.
‘Yes, you can stay,’ I replied. ‘In the morning we will talk some more about what to do.’ I too felt overwhelmed by sleep as I spoke. It had been a long day. ‘That is my bedroom, through that door there. The sheets are clean. Andthat,’ I said, ‘is my bathroom. I’m sorry everything is so cramped. You can sleep in my room and I will sleep here on the sofa. Tomorrow we will decide what must be done.’
Adeena seemed relieved by these arrangements.
‘Thank you,’ she said. Then she asked, ‘What is the time now?’
‘Nearly midnight.’
‘Please wake me before dawn. I must pray at sunrise. I will go to sleep now.’ She went into the bathroom and then, a
Similar Books
