“There’s nothing to worry about; we’ll be quite safe.”

   In hindsight, she knew she would have given anything to have this fight, any fight, anything with Ron.

 “What the…?” Ron had been livid, and Rebecca was too confused to react.

     Wasn’t she always the one to decide about these things? What had changed? Relationships are so complicated.

   They had an argument last evening, which had agitated the usually calm and collected Ron. 

   “I don’t want to go on this trip! What were you thinking? You should have at least consulted me before signing us up for it!” Ron exploded when she told him.

  “I thought it would do us good to see life outside this place,” she replied. “I thought you’d be happy to visit Pakistan and meet your father In Peshawar.”

   John Clooney, Ron’s father, had an embassy job in Pakistan.  Ron had confided to Rebecca that his father worked for the CIA.

   “Dad specifically warned us to stay within the city limits,” he grumbled. “He believes we should never have come to this country in the first place. He has emphasized quite a few times how dangerous things are in this region; being seen together with him only puts us all in more danger. You must realize we’re not in the States, Becky; things are very different here!”

  “I see that!” Rebecca had stomped out of the room to sulk and scold herself for upsetting Ron.  She twirled her long, curly hair around her fingers as she contemplated the situation.

   They had known each other for over a year when they both joined the staff of Brooklyn Hospital in New York. Working together in the emergency ward, they had grown very close. Rebecca and Ron, both enthusiastic interns, wanting to see the world and spend some time together, had decided to take a year’s break, were recruited by Doctors without Borders and were stationed in Afghanistan.

   Working out of a hospital in Kabul, Afghanistan, their goal was to treat patients and train the local medical staff. They were both enjoying the jobs so far, and their relationship was getting stronger. In her last chat with her best friend Phil, Rebecca had talked at length about their “almost engagement.” This confession was in response to Phil teasing Rebecca about her relationships.

  “I didn’t think you could stick with anyone for more than six months unless he became your puppet,” he kidded her lightheartedly.

   “Stop! Ron’s wonderful as he is. I don’t want to manage him!” she giggled. “I like him, Phil. I have a feeling that he’s the one for me, and I’m going to do whatever it takes!”

   Phil was Rebecca’s neighbor in New York. Phil had lost his mother in the tragedy of 9/11, when a terrorist attack coincidently schemed from the very place she was in, had demolished the World Trade Center and the plane she was travelling in. Rebecca had seen him crying in school a few days after and, without any introduction, had put her arms around him. In turn, that marked the start of their unusual friendship.

  Ron is so similar to Phil, only much cuter. Rebecca mused today while brushing her teeth over Ron’s blonde head in the bathroom they shared. Phil Rosenthal was different, in a more rugged, friendly sort of way. Phil could make fun of a stranger just to get to know him better, while Ron was more reserved. 

  Like Phil, Ron did not mind her taking the lead, and he let her deal with general issues while he managed more significant matters at hand. However, he took exception at being coerced into making this trip across the border and displayed  exasperation over not being consulted.

   Afghanistan was not the safest of places, but they were there to help people, and, Rebecca being Rebecca was not worried. Always looking for adventure, she had found out that they were looking for two volunteers for a health camp. Of course, she decided to sign them both up. The plan was to make a two-day stopover at Sharana near the eastern border, to treat ailing residents from remote villages in the vicinity. 

   Patients would walk for miles, she was told, for  the possibility of medical attention at the clinic outside the U.S. helicopter base. After the camp, Rebecca had planned that the two of them would cross the border into Pakistan, while the others returned to Kabul.

   “Who would attack anyone who has come to this country for the sole purpose of helping the local people?” she questioned, and concluded, “there was nothing to worry about; we’ll be quite safe.”

   In her mind, they were angels of mercy and would be welcomed with open arms wherever they went. Rebecca thought they were above the politics of the country and failed to see the hostility in many faces they come across, at times, even from the patients at the hospital who resented the foreign intrusion. As for the militants, their hatred of the West was quite evident in their looks and deeds. 

  “The foreign missions are respected and welcomed,” Rebecca insisted. It would have been so much better if she wasn’t proved wrong.   

    The couple could never stay mad at each other for long. After tempers cooled, Rebecca agreed to talk to Ron’s father on the phone, informing him of their upcoming drive to his post near Peshawar in Pakistan.

   “If he advises against it, we can change the plan,” she suggested to Ron.

 It’s not too late to get other volunteers.”

  It was a surprise to the couple when John Clooney agreed they could make the trip. He missed his son, and this would be a rare opportunity to catch up. Ron, who always complained of never having enough time with his father, began to look forward to seeing him.

 Rebecca sighed at the turnout of events and congratulated herself on yet another satisfactory outcome. If only boys had the same common sense as girls, she thought to herself.

    The weather in September was quite pleasant, especially in the lower lands they passed through today. All the necessary supplies were in the back of their truck. Behind them in a van were two local doctors, two other resident medical students, one security guard, a translator and Megan, a United Nations medical assistant.

           The couple rode in the front seat of the old truck alongside the driver as they drove from Kabul through the eastern province to get to the border town of Sharana. Ron sat in the middle, with the driver on his right and Rebecca to his left. He looked as if he were busy with his phone, but she could feel his eyes on her as she leaned her face out of the open window to enjoy the fresh air brushing against her face and hair.      

           Relationships are about honesty and creating a better understanding, she thought, glancing back at Ron’s smooth face and blue eyes that were focused on the road ahead. I can do that, right?

           The battered, old vehicle had seen better days and bounced along on worn-out springs as it struggled over the rough, steep roads. The drive seemed never-ending. There was nothing to break the monotony of the mountainous terrain with its sandy stretches of desert. The passengers held their breath as the drivers snaked around narrow passes, clinging precariously to rock faces that threatened to give way at any moment.

            All Rebecca could see were barren, rugged mountains on either side of the narrow pass; it felt scary and claustrophobic, and she could not wait to get out into more open spaces where from time to time she would spot a green valley hidden in the low land between hills with a river snaking through it. Such beauty was in stark contrast to the solid rock mountains that made up much of the other areas of the country.

           As they moved on, Rebecca caught a welcome sight of the river meandering through deep gorges; its pristine blue water flowed from the mountain range. 

            “Look, Ron!” she exclaimed. “What a surprise! Isn’t it beautiful?”

   “Yes, it is,” he agreed; his body pressed against her to get a better view.  She held his hand, and he responded by squeezing it gently.         

   “I can’t believe how peaceful it is, Ron,” Rebecca said, looking around. “I can’t hear a single sound, apart from the groans from this old rust bucket!”  

  “We must cross two more mountains to get to our next stop,” Mustafa told them as he wrestled with the steering wheel to bypass a pothole on the road.

   “How long is that going to take?” she asked.

   “Only two hours to Sharana, Miss.” They were lucky to have a driver who could speak English.

   Ron and Rebecca gazed at each other, and she pushed her foot against his ankle and tried to play with it. Mustafa saw this movement, and Rebecca withdrew, seeing the man’s embarrassment. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ron smiling, and she grinned back.    

   “I don’t like this area,” grumbled Mustafa as they passed through a gorge between two steep hills. “Nobody lives around here; this is a favorite Taliban hideout. The other day at the hospital, I recognized a member of Talib-e-Azad who comes from this region. I heard he had some problem at the hospital with your medical staff?”

  “Oh yes, I remember that man,” recalled Rebecca. “He came to the hospital two days ago; I was a bit disturbed by his aggressive attitude. I remember his name; Mullah Shaheen, the local staff called him by that name.”

  “Yes, yes, that’s the one! Mullah Shaheen,” Mustafa agreed. “He arrived with his sister, I think?”

  “Yes, she has cancer and was in terrible pain; I managed to give her some temporary relief, but I fear it may be too late to save her unless she sees an oncologist as soon as possible,” Rebecca whispered to Ron.

   “Sadly, I’ve seen that over here, since most patients come to us too late,” Ron sighed.

   “It was her brother who made me feel uneasy. He looked like a militant, and I saw a gun in his waistband, which he barely hid with his jacket. He was scanning all around as if he was searching for something. He certainly didn’t like our presence at the hospital.”

   “I remember the guy you’re talking about,” Ron confirmed.   “He was the one who created a ruckus with Dr. Omara because he wanted only a female doctor to see his sister.”

  “Yes, that’s him. Dr. Omara asked me to examine the woman. When Shaheen saw I was a Western infidel, I think he would have preferred a man,” Rebecca laughed. “I just don’t get it! Some patient’s relatives are so glad we’re here to help them, but not the likes of Mullah Shaheen! He just glared at me, and when I tried to meet his stare, the hatred was so obvious. Do you know what he tried to do with Megan’s Bible?”

  “No, but why did she have a Bible lying around?” Ron asked.

   “You know Megan! She believes she’s here on God’s mission to save the people in this part of the world. The office has warned her, so she doesn’t dare preach, but says she gets her inspiration and strength from the Bible,” Rebecca replied. “She’s always reading it.”

  “She shouldn’t have left it lying around,” Ron said. “She knows how fanatical these people are about their religion.”  

  “Anyway, while I was talking to his sister,” Rebecca explained, “I saw Shaheen looking at the Bible. He saw me looking at him and asked whether this was our Holy Book, like the Quran. I said, yes. Then he boldly asked why we brought it here and whether we wanted to convert Muslims. I said no, and tried to explain, but my mind was preoccupied with his sister. I took her into a private cubicle for closer examination, and when I came out, I noticed Megan trying to get the book back from Shaheen. It seems he had put it in his pocket and was going out when Megan intercepted him.”

   “It was a bad idea to bring the Bible to the hospital. As it is, we’re totally in a precarious position here,” Ron reminded.

“I’m sure she’s carrying it with her today, too,” predicted Rebecca. “I don’t suppose we can stop her from practicing her beliefs.”

“I can’t understand why some outsiders ignore the culture and politics of this place,” replied Ron. “Respect for religion was one of the main points stressed in our orientation before we came here.”       

“I don’t claim to understand or agree with what’s going on, Ron, but that’s not why we’re here!” Rebecca shot back. “Our mission is to help everyone, regardless of views or beliefs!” 

“Let’s keep it real, Becks!” Ron snapped back. “The only religion here is Islam, and we must be ever mindful of that fact in this region.”

    “I guess it’s best to keep one’s private matters out of the workplace, but it takes all sorts,” she agreed, not wanting to add to this debatable question and annoy Ron. “I think she deserves the same respect as the next person, but who am I to judge, especially in this land of religious extremists?” 

Mustafa, who had a colorful turban on his head and had his sleeves rolled to show his strong biceps, needed to speak his mind. “Though the Taliban no longer rule us, there are groups of men like this all over the country who fight for their ideals,” he interjected. “They hate foreigners or non-believers of Islam. They prevent progress and keep women behind four walls, away from education, and any Western influences.”

    Mustafa seemed to be annoyed as he spoke, and Rebecca wondered why. She could only imagine what he had suffered under Taliban rule and in the aftermath of the attacks on the Twin Towers.

  “Mullah Shaheen is believed to be the founder of a local Taliban group, which adheres strictly to the tenets of Islam according to Sharia, Law. They deem it’s their duty to…,” Mustafa sighed and shrugged in a gesture of helplessness.

   Ron and Rebecca waited for him to continue, but he just sat there, gripping the  steering wheel tightly, wanting to concentrate on the road, and avoid hitting anything that would further damage his faithful, rickety, old truck.