took her left arm and extended it all the way out to the side and back again.
Hasan blinked in astonishment. His ancient tribal soul screamed that this was impossible, it was an illusion, it was evil magic. But his real-word eyes welled with tears and his throat seized up. The wonderful truth of it was sitting right there in front of him.
A spark of hopeful surprise shot through Zubaida’s eyes. Dr. Peter offered her a small mirror, and when she looked into it, her eyes popped open in wonder. The she looked up at her father and smiled.
Mohammed Hasan began to cry, touching his hand to his heart in a traditional Afghan gesture of gratitude. He hugged Peter Grossman and heaped thanks onto him without waiting for the interpreter.
Even though Zubaida was still shivering from the removal of the insulating bandages, she continued to look around the room with a happy smile. That first brief gaze into the mirror told her everything she needed to know.
They did magic on her, after all. Not perfect magic, but the results astonished her. She looked as if she had been sewn together out of patches— but she could clearly recognize herself. The monster was gone.
She could move both of her arms, she could close her eyes, and for the first time since the fire came to punish her for dancing, she could even hear a little bit of the old music. Hundreds of strange sensations inside of her re-carved face and reborn body prevented her from being able to concentrate on the melody in the brief moment that it flashed through her—and she certainly couldn’t move to it—but it was there, like an echo from the next valley over.
She kept smiling even though it hurt her to move her stitched up features. She smiled to welcome back a face that she could finally recognize as her own and because her heart was exploding and she couldn’t hold it back if she tried.
Chapter Four
There was never any denying the strength of the wave that carried Zubaida along, whether the players could explain it or not. Before she went to America, during those last days before Dr. Mike Smith left Afghanistan to accompany her to America, he wrote a letter to Peter Grossman that contained all of the following concerns.
Writing from Kabul, he talked of how Hasan insisted on accompanying Zubaida to America because it was simply not practical for his son Daud to go in his place. Smith liked the plan, since the older family man was far less likely to try to defect while in America than a young and unattached male. An immigration controversy would, in the words of a prophetic saying, cause heads to roll.
He also detailed Zubaida’s medical condition as it pertained to the travel arrangements, then went on to request that privacy screens be used at the airports so that she would not be made an object of idle curiosity.
He then wrote fondly of Zubaida’s generally calm demeanor, and of the close and trusting relationship that she displayed with her father. He talked of her willingness to laugh and be playful, despite her condition, and how she voluntarily interacted with others instead of withdrawing.
Dr. Smith also informed Peter that he was going to have to administer a complete round of vaccinations to her, because although her father insisted that she had “all her shots,” medical records were nonexistent in Afghanistan at that time and there was no way to know for sure about it, especially given the family’s poverty.
In addition, Smith expressed relief at how well the visa situation was going, now that Michael Gray at the State Department had gotten involved, then he went on to make sure that the Foundation funds were in place to pay for the airline tickets and noted that the NGO was busy conducting a search in Los Angeles for a suitable host family for Zubaida.
Smith concluded by expressing his concern that she must be guaranteed familiar language and customs around her, throughout her recoveries. Otherwise, a cold-water culture shock would merely present
Hasan blinked in astonishment. His ancient tribal soul screamed that this was impossible, it was an illusion, it was evil magic. But his real-word eyes welled with tears and his throat seized up. The wonderful truth of it was sitting right there in front of him.
A spark of hopeful surprise shot through Zubaida’s eyes. Dr. Peter offered her a small mirror, and when she looked into it, her eyes popped open in wonder. The she looked up at her father and smiled.
Mohammed Hasan began to cry, touching his hand to his heart in a traditional Afghan gesture of gratitude. He hugged Peter Grossman and heaped thanks onto him without waiting for the interpreter.
Even though Zubaida was still shivering from the removal of the insulating bandages, she continued to look around the room with a happy smile. That first brief gaze into the mirror told her everything she needed to know.
They did magic on her, after all. Not perfect magic, but the results astonished her. She looked as if she had been sewn together out of patches— but she could clearly recognize herself. The monster was gone.
She could move both of her arms, she could close her eyes, and for the first time since the fire came to punish her for dancing, she could even hear a little bit of the old music. Hundreds of strange sensations inside of her re-carved face and reborn body prevented her from being able to concentrate on the melody in the brief moment that it flashed through her—and she certainly couldn’t move to it—but it was there, like an echo from the next valley over.
She kept smiling even though it hurt her to move her stitched up features. She smiled to welcome back a face that she could finally recognize as her own and because her heart was exploding and she couldn’t hold it back if she tried.
Chapter Four
There was never any denying the strength of the wave that carried Zubaida along, whether the players could explain it or not. Before she went to America, during those last days before Dr. Mike Smith left Afghanistan to accompany her to America, he wrote a letter to Peter Grossman that contained all of the following concerns.
Writing from Kabul, he talked of how Hasan insisted on accompanying Zubaida to America because it was simply not practical for his son Daud to go in his place. Smith liked the plan, since the older family man was far less likely to try to defect while in America than a young and unattached male. An immigration controversy would, in the words of a prophetic saying, cause heads to roll.
He also detailed Zubaida’s medical condition as it pertained to the travel arrangements, then went on to request that privacy screens be used at the airports so that she would not be made an object of idle curiosity.
He then wrote fondly of Zubaida’s generally calm demeanor, and of the close and trusting relationship that she displayed with her father. He talked of her willingness to laugh and be playful, despite her condition, and how she voluntarily interacted with others instead of withdrawing.
Dr. Smith also informed Peter that he was going to have to administer a complete round of vaccinations to her, because although her father insisted that she had “all her shots,” medical records were nonexistent in Afghanistan at that time and there was no way to know for sure about it, especially given the family’s poverty.
In addition, Smith expressed relief at how well the visa situation was going, now that Michael Gray at the State Department had gotten involved, then he went on to make sure that the Foundation funds were in place to pay for the airline tickets and noted that the NGO was busy conducting a search in Los Angeles for a suitable host family for Zubaida.
Smith concluded by expressing his concern that she must be guaranteed familiar language and customs around her, throughout her recoveries. Otherwise, a cold-water culture shock would merely present
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