“The innocent and guilty suffer equally.”
“Pashtuns are very hospitable people; they value their guests and make them welcome. They would never turn people away, right?” asked Phil, and Rafiq nodded as he negotiated his way past a slow truck.
“But, if I understand correctly,” mused Zeina. “Even before 9/11, this was a troubled area as different groups were trying to hold their own and wanted to control Afghanistan. There was never unity among the different factions who fought with the Russians; this is one of the major causes of strife in this part of the world. Osama bin Laden, from my part of the world, was able to have a big influence in the region just because of the differences.”
“Yes,” agreed Rafiq, nodding as if impressed. “So, you come from Saudi Arabia? I can tell Phil is from America, but what about you, Ismail?”
“I’m from Israel.”
Rafiq was intrigued by this information as he looked curiously at Ismail in the rear-view mirror and after some thought, said, “Now that’s one place from where lot of our problems might have started.”
“Maybe,” said Ismail dourly. “But, as I understand it, the history in Afghanistan has been pretty turbulent for a long time.”
“Yes, Afghans have a very gruesome history. There have been too many murders, assassinations and coups,” Roddy joined the conversation. “I don’t think we covered this fully back in Nancowry, so let me recap a little history of Afghanistan to help you understand the struggles. Zahir Shah was the last king of Afghanistan. He was crowned at the age of 19 in 1933 after he saw his father, Nadir Shah, murdered in front of his eyes. He ruled for 40 years before his cousin seized power. Not wanting a family bloodbath, Zahir Shah left the country with his family and lived in Italy until 2002.”
“After the king left, Daoud ruled until 1978, when he too was murdered. Three leaders followed him, but none survived for too long, and finally, in 1985, Mohammed Najibullah, who was a puppet for the Russians, came to power as president.”
“After the Taliban took over in 1992, Najibullah was brutally killed along with his family, right?” asked Phil as he remembered what he had read about the bloody ending. “The king was castrated in his bedroom, dragged by a car, and hanged in the square for all to see.”
He shuddered at the thought and saw Rafiq and Roddy exchange glances in the mirror.
“Yes, the history around here is full of blood and gore,” said Roddy.
“History, in general, is full of such instances, like with any country’s revolution,” remarked Ismail defensively.
The visitors could tell that while Rafiq did not mind talking about his country, he did not truly appreciate criticism from others about it.
“Keep your eyes and ears open and your mouths shut!” Roddy warned them when Rafiq stopped to get them cold drinks from the store at the petrol pump. “People here don’t like Westerners and are very sensitive to any criticism. Avoid making any disparaging remarks even if they’re true. The reality on the ground is a whole other ball game; you will have to work your way through convoluted opinions and customs and conflicting truths. Just remember why we’re here — to find Rebecca and get her out safely.”
Rafiq returned with icy cans of a recognizable brand of cola, along with bottled water and sweets and biscuits to snack on, and the visitors were most appreciative.
“Rafiq, is there any ISIS influence in Pakistan?” inquired Phil.
“Not much yet, but since their push out from Iraq and Syria, their numbers have increased,” he admitted angrily. “They’re always looking to recruit, and this area is ripe for fanatics to influence the downtrodden who suffer because of the rampant corruption of politicians here. Some groups like the Talib-e-Azad have been claiming they belong to ISIS, which boosts their importance.”
“Isn’t Talib-e-Azad the group we’re looking for?” asked Ismail.
“Yes, they are,” said Roddy while Rafiq nodded. “They’ve become a big influence in this region.”
“There are lots of young people here who have no jobs and no elders to guide them,” lamented Rafiq. “They make willing martyrs for the cause of the terrorist groups since they’ve undergone extreme trauma and are easy to brainwash.”
“And always ready to earn a little extra,” added Roddy.
“But people like Chief Naseer Husain, who will be our host at Amankot; he’s been stepping up to rectify the situation,” Roddy said, trying to add optimism to the grim picture.
“You also need to understand one thing,” said Rafiq. “There are different kinds of people ruling through intimidation and terror in the area. You can call them Taliban or ISIS or Al Qaeda or completely different groups. Some of them believe in the righteousness of Islam, while others are just there to frighten people in the name of God for their selfish reasons. They’re all dangerous; they do the most harm and are difficult to control.”
“And, because there are so many different factions at play here, it is essential to understand the enemy and deal with them accordingly,” Roddy concluded. “I don’t know for sure what kind of category Talib-e-Azad falls into, but we need to find out.”
War had ravaged the area, and many lost their families and homes. A whole generation had grown up knowing no other way of life other than war. Phil remembered how hopeless he felt after his mother died, and had he been older, he would have done anything to avenge her death. He had hated the terrorists so much for taking her, but over time, he found better ways to deal with his anger and frustration.
“The innocent and guilty suffer equally,” he had once told Rebecca. “People living in conflict zones go through the same phase of wanting revenge as I did; it’s hard not to react by wanting to strike back after you’ve lost everything dear to you! The people in Afghanistan have it a lot worse; they have no government support whatsoever.”
Phil could almost taste the rage he had felt, and he could relate to such emotions. Fortunately, he had worked through his feelings, whereas many here acted out their fury.
He sighed. It was all so complicated. In the next few days, he hoped to bring about some positivity.
The objective is Rebecca, he reminded himself. Her rescue must always remain uppermost in my mind.
They stopped at a roadside restaurant for a meal. They were unsure whether it was the crisp mountain air or the delicious food, but they were starving and relished the thick parathas stuffed with a mixture of spicy mince and potatoes that they dipped in fresh yogurt.
“I’ll have another paratha,” said Phil, and the others laughed at his appetite.
“Watch out, or you’ll have an upset stomach, Phil!” cautioned Zeina.
“The food is fresh with pure ingredients, so don’t worry,” Rafiq chuckled. “But the richness of the meal and overeating; well, that could get you into trouble!”
“I’ll take my chances!” Phil decided. “This is just too delicious to pass up!”
There were very few customers around, and after taking care of them, the owner, Hafeez, who knew Rafiq, came by to sit with them.
The two men had a rapid-fire conversation in Pashto, and then Rafiq translated.
“He wants to know where we’re going, and I explained how you’re guests of Chief Naseer Husain and traveling to his village for trekking and mountain climbing,” Rafiq said, and the others immediately understood that he was playing it safe.
There was another exchange of words, and Rafiq explained: “He wants to know how you know the chief, and I told him your organization created a five-year plan for the development of his village. Hafeez says there has been some trouble in the area. There has been an attack on a family, and there have been a couple of other deaths.”
“A bit nosy, this chap!” Phil frowned.
“Not a concept understood here; folks just need to know stuff as a show of interest and concern … and curiosity!” Roddy smiled; it had taken him years to figure out the customs.
Hafeez waited until Rafiq had finished, and then they had another conversation. As Hafeez spoke, he looked around, and Phil could see he was almost fearful that someone might hear him. There were only two other occupied tables. One had a family of six gathered around it, and on the other, sat a bored-looking man whom Phil guessed was a truck driver.
“He knows Chief Naseer Husain and respects him,” explained Rafiq. “He’s going to attend a fair, like a big festival; in a couple of weeks, organized by the Lashkar. Naseer Husain and his Lashkar have been very successful in bringing new hope to the area by steering the Taliban towards leading normal lives. The idea is to showcase a lot of what we can do for people to live more… How would you say this: more progressive lives?”
“Very commendable,” Roddy remarked. “I hear he’s having a very positive influence in the area, actively trying to give the youth hopes for a better future. It must be a difficult thing to do, changing the mindset and lifestyles of local people.”
“Yes, but he continues to make great strides in spite of the opposition he faces from certain quarters,” Rafiq continued. “Chief Naseer has made lots of enemies because of what he does; about five years ago, someone kidnapped his son, and he’s still searching for him. The leader of Talib-e-Azad knows that Naseer Husain is after him. The CIA also has them on their hit list. The view is that the bombing of the convoy was a message for the CIA.”
Phil was all ears now. Was Rebecca’s caravan bombed because of CIA interests in the region? That made a lot of sense as Ron’s father worked for the CIA. Was Ron the actual target?
“Please ask him what else he knows about the CIA? Are they respected? Does he help them too?” Phil wanted Rafiq to ask Hafeez.
“I can answer that, Phil,” said Roddy. “The CIA is considered to work for the American government, and overall, the villagers in this area don’t like or trust them. It’s understandable since they’ve played a major role in the devastation of this country. Even now, the CIA is responsible for the drone attacks and the bloodshed.”
“They have made many enemies by killing innocent civilians,” added Ismail with a nod from both Roddy and Rafiq. “The people see that the CIA are more focused on their interests than on those of the local population.”
Phil nodded and sighed. It was painful to admit there was blame on both sides.
“I hope the locals will be more amenable towards helping us as a group of multi-nationals who represent the UN,” he said.
“Don’t be so naïve, Phil,” Ismail retorted. “They don’t understand or care which acronym we represent; we’re outsiders and not welcome to meddle in their affairs.”
Phil had planned to call Mr. Clooney as soon as he reached Peshawar and wondered if he could ask him about CIA activities in the country and why they were here.
“Hafeez is our informant. He sees lots of people; they come from all over for his food,” Roddy had whispered as they got up to leave. “Hafeez is paid to keep his eyes and ears open. I don’t know how much I can trust him, though he has given us some valuable information.”
“Is Rafiq also a paid informant?” Zeina asked.
“No, no, he’s a genuine friend,” Roddy smiled. “He’s well off anyway; he would be most insulted if I offered him money. He volunteered his time and vehicle for the mission, and I’m so grateful; he’s brilliant and respected; his knowledge of the people and place are vital to this operation.
As they made their way out of the restaurant, Phil noticed the sole man looking at them curiously and speculated about what his story might be. He was wearing a colored turban and matching vest over his long shirt. Was he a regular trucker and family man, or a Taliban terrorist or perhaps all these things? It was impossible to tell who anyone was, which is why reliable Intel was so important. This place and its people held so many secrets; he could feel the mystery in the air.
Phil nodded at the man and smiled and was heartened to get a greeting in return.
“Hafeez says he heard there’s some trouble within the Talib-e-Azad group,” said Rafiq as he entered the vehicle.
Was Rebecca causing that? wondered Phil. He hoped not, but then again, if anyone could upset the apple cart, it would be her. If they had captured her, he worried she might go too far in provoking them. Surely, she must have tried to escape, and this would have caused even more tension among them. With a heavy stomach, the rocking of the car and thinking his worries, Phil drifted into a deep sleep only to be tormented by reoccurring nightmares of Rebecca calling out to him. He ran to her, and though she was near, he couldn’t reach her. He woke up screaming her name, and Ismail patted his back, and his embarrassing look met sympathetic nods.