Shooting Kabul

Shooting Kabul Read Online Free PDF

Book: Shooting Kabul Read Online Free PDF
Author: N. H. Senzai
relief. But he hadn’t found a trace of Mariam.
    â€œWe should have stayed in Peshawar, then,” said Zafoona, turning her face away from the food.
    â€œWe couldn’t, jaan ,” said Habib patiently. “We’d delayed as long as we could. If we hadn’t left, our asylum papers would not have been held for us. Then we would have been a family without a country to call home. We couldn’t have returned to Afghanistan, and we couldn’t have stayed in Pakistan.”
    â€œBut she’s out there all by herself,” insisted Zafoona.
    â€œMother,” whispered Noor, leaning across the aisle toward them. “Dad did what he could.”
    Zafoona’s reddened eyes filled with tears, and she huddled in her woolen shawl.
    â€œ Jaan , your cousin Nargis has a crew of men in Peshawar looking for any news of Mariam,” said Habib, rubbing Zafoona’s hands to warm them. “Nargis said she’d call us first thing if she learns anything. And Professor Sahib is headed to Jalalabad with his sons to search along the Afghan border.”
    â€œBut—,” began Zafoona.
    â€œMother,” Noor interrupted, “Mariam is an American citizen, so the U.S. consulate is keeping an eye out for her too. And I helped Khala Nargis post Mariam’s pictures at the International Rescue Committee’s office. If she comes over the border, they will find her.”
    â€œThere are so many people looking for her, even your old schoolmate we ran into at the United Nations RefugeeAgency’s office,” added Habib. “She will notify us if they or other local nongovernmental agencies dealing with displaced persons spot her.”
    Zafoona looked away from them and pursed her quivering lips. Noor settled back in her seat and sighed.
    Fadi rolled the foil off his steaming chicken and, without much interest, removed the plastic silverware from its protective plastic bag. Watching the spoon slide into his hand, he paused, bewildered. Mariam’s voice called out to him as if from a haze.
    â€œFadi!” shouted Mariam. “I want the spoon!”
    â€œOh, all right,” grumbled Fadi, handing her the wooden spoon while he kept the steel fork with the crooked prong.
    The sun was just about to set and the two of them were in the backyard, crouched under the lone plum tree. In less than twelve hours they would be in a taxi, headed toward Jalalabad. Fadi glanced back at the house as the last of the sun’s rays glinted across the expanse of windows, tinting them silver. Withered rosebushes grew along the sides of the house, planted years ago by his grandfather. Fadi wondered if he’d ever see any of it again.
    â€œAre you ready?” Mariam interrupted his morose thoughts, an eager smile playing on her lips.
    â€œYes, I’m ready,” grumbled Fadi. He’d been cornered by her earlier that day, and in order to escape her chattering on and on about not leaving her treasure behind, he’d agreed to help.
    For a moment Mariam’s smile faltered as she looked around the base of the scraggly tree. She pooched out her cheeks and inspected the trunk, parched and peeling from the drought. Her eyes widened in alarm. “I don’t remember where I buried it,” she squeaked.
    Fadi released a pent-up breath. “Mariam,” he said quietly, “there’s still packing to do, and we’re leaving really early in the morning. Are you sure this treasure of yours is so important?”
    â€œYes,” said Mariam, her lower lip trembling.
    â€œOh, all right. Don’t cry,” said Fadi. “Just pick a spot and start digging.”
    For the next hour, aided by the light of the full moon and a sputtering candle Fadi had found in the empty house, they crawled around in the dirt, excavating dozens of shallow holes. His fingernails caked in soil, Fadi was about to call it quits when the earth loosened around a small tin box in their
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