“He doesn’t understand our lives.”
John Clooney was out of Peshawar on urgent business, and he asked Roddy and the group to proceed, and he would be in touch when he returned in a couple of days.
It was late evening when they were dropped off at Naseer Husain’s house. Rafiq drove off with promises to return the next day. They were greeted by the chieftain’s younger brother Basheer Husain, who explained, “Naseer Sahib has been called away on urgent business; he asked me to relay his apologies. He’ll return as soon as possible.”
“Not a problem,” Roddy answered politely, wondering how soon was “as soon as possible.” His experience reminded him that time had a different meaning over here.
“Sorry, power failure,” the man said as he led the group inside through the dimly lit entrance. Shahzad, the chieftain’s son, lit their way with a lantern.
“The electricity will be back shortly,” the handsome young man smiled. “This happens all the time; either the transmitter has blown a fuse, or a troublemaker has cut the lines.”
Roddy hoped Naseer Husain would return before the electricity, which could take days to fix, was back on.
There seemed to be a lot of people milling around the large front courtyard.
“What’s going on here?” Ismail asked. “Are you having a party or something?”
“No, no! These are friends and relatives; a few live with us, but most are just passing through,” Shahzad replied, and seeing the confusion on Phil’s face, he added, “We must welcome visitors according to our traditions; our house is open to guests.”
“Family and community are significant in Eastern culture,” whispered Roddy. “Having several generations living under the same roof is the norm.”
“There must be about 12 men here; heaven knows how many women there are inside the house!” Phil remarked. “I can’t imagine this happening at home; my folks get into a tizzy when we have six guests over for dinner!”
“That’s because you Westerners are selfish,” Zeina said irritably. It had been a long, tiring day, and jet lag was beginning to take over.
“I beg your pardon?” Phil was astounded by her accusation. “How can you say such things?”
“Easily, buddy!” Zeina snapped. “Cultures are different; why can’t you realize this and deal with it?”
“So, you’d be comfortable with a house full of people invading your space?” Phil shot back.
“Happens all the time at home; not a problem and certainly not an invasion of any kind!” Zeina replied shortly. “I’m an Easterner, after all!”
“Is that why you run away from your customs? I sure hope Rebecca is enjoying this Eastern hospitality!” Phil retorted.
“Come on, you guys; give it a break,” Roddy intervened. “The mission hasn’t even begun, and you’re already at each other’s throats. We’ve got serious matters ahead, so get a grip and chill!”
Shahzad called out to his sister Aisha, who came to take Zeina to the women’s section, where she was greeted warmly by Safia, the chieftain’s wife. The light-complexioned woman was tall and stately, with large green eyes, a feature she had passed to her sons and daughter.
After a shower and dinner, Shahzad showed Phil and Ismail their beds, which were the charpoys with mattresses. Everyone slept under the stars, in their separate areas, the men in front and the women in the spacious walled enclosure at the back of the house. As tired as they were, they were more than ready to retire. The air was fresh and nippy, and Zeina wrapped herself in her cotton quilt and passed out the moment her head touched her pillow.
“It’s amazing out here,” praised Phil. “But what happens if it rains?”
“See the enormous verandah?” Ismail said. “We’ll just drag our string beds over there!”
It was still dark outside when Phil awoke to loud shouting that jolted him out of his nightmare. It took him moments to get his bearings as he looked around in confusion. Remembering where they were, Phil understood what he was hearing was not the plane crashing from his nightmare, but the early morning call for prayers. He laid down, hearing the shouts and singing from speakers calling out to people.
Glancing over at Ismail and Roddy, he saw that they were fast asleep, quite undisturbed by all the ruckus. He lay back and watched the other men rise and go to perform their ritual ablution before the namaz. Rolls of carpeting were unfurled to serve as communal prayer mats. The men took their places, and the prayers began.
Phil was wide awake now. He got up from his bed and walked away from the worshippers to look around. There was a high wall all around the house, and Phil couldn’t see a thing outside. The gate was locked; he tried to look through the gaps in the steel slats, but they were too narrow to afford a view. Phil walked around and on seeing a large rock, stood on top of it. Jumping up and down on it did not reveal any more of his surroundings.
As far as he could tell, there were no other houses close to them. He tried to jump higher and lost his balance, slipping off the rock and landing on his bottom with a thud. Getting up and dusting himself off, he heard a soft giggle coming from the part of the courtyard where they had taken their meal the night before. As he focused his eyes on the dark space, he saw a young boy wearing a shawl wrapped around him, crouched in the corner.
He was watching Phil curiously, as he tried to suppress his laughter with his hand across his mouth. Phil smiled and signaled him to come closer. The boy’s long hair was tousled and stood out in different directions, and his eyes were still heavy with sleep. He got up, and as he came nearer, Phil remembered his 14-year-old stepsister Kayla. They were about the same age, and both their faces lit up when they smiled.
“My name is Phil. What’s yours?”
“Hello! My name is Adnan,” he replied in well-practiced, heavily accented English. “You want to see out?”
“Yes, please,” Phil replied. “But I don’t want to keep you from your prayers.”
“Too late now; I didn’t wake up in time. Come!” said Adnan, and motioned Phil to follow.
They explored around the house until they came to a grassy mound. The sun was beginning to spread its morning light, and from the top of the hillock, Phil could see a few settlements, but overall, the area looked mostly barren and hilly. As he studied the more distant mountain peaks, he wondered if Rebecca was out there. He was even more worried about her after what Hafeez had said but knew she would not be easily intimidated and, hopefully, could take care of herself.
Rebecca was a resourceful person and quick to see through people. She could not tolerate artifice of any kind, and yet her heart melted when she witnessed suffering. Phil remembered the time she had shaved her head just because her friend who had cancer was going through chemotherapy; she wanted to make her feel better. The laughter they shared every time they looked at their bald heads did help to cheer the patient up. Phil smiled sadly at that memory and then realized that Adnan was looking inquiringly at him.
“Are you Chief Naseer’s son?” Phil asked, and Adnan shook his head.
“My father died 10 years ago. Chief Naseer is my uncle, my father’s younger brother. Our family has lived here for many generations. Chief Naseer had gone to Afghanistan for business but came back here to take over after my father passed away.”
“Do you learn English at school? Your English is perfect,” he asked, sitting down. Though the boy’s English was broken and accented, he was very articulate.
“Yes, from school and books,” he said and added, “also from films.”
“Oh, you watch movies?” Phil was somewhat surprised to hear this in such a conservative place where movies were usually banned, and cinema houses were set alight.
“Shahzad Bhai sometimes he brings movies, and we watch on the DVD player,” he exclaimed gleefully. “I love American movies; the superhero and fighting ones are the best; also, the Kung Fu; Bruce Lee is my favorite!”
You and most of the male population! Phil thought, cheered to find a common link in the chain of humanity, even if the technology used to make the connection was outdated.
“Do you know who lives over there?” Phil said, pointing towards the houses he could see.
“That house to the left is the one of Malik Rehman. Some days before, there was shooting, and he died,” he said. Phil nodded. He remembered Hafeez talking about the attack. “My friend Iqbal lives there; Rehman Sahib was his father.”
The shooting so close by makes it seem so real, he thought. I’m actually where the action happened! It’s all so senseless and sad!
Before Phil could ask further questions that were queuing up rapidly in his mind, Adnan went on.
“Do you know about the fair? We have planned a lot of fun activities. Will you be able to attend it?” the boy said excitedly.
“I have heard about that; it seems very interesting. Bringing people together is always a good thing. What are you planning for the fair?” Phil asked.
“Iqbal and me, we’re building a model solar-powered house,” Adnan grinned proudly. “We’re going to submit it in the science competition. I love to learn about solar panels. If I win the competition, Sheikh Sahib, who’s a friend of my uncle, says he’s going to invest in my project to build solar panels for the area.”
“Wow, I would love to see that. You should speak to my friend, Ismail. He adores geeky stuff like that.”
“Geeky stuff?”
“Yes, things like science and technology,” Phil explained.
“So, I’m geeky stuff?” Adnan asked.
“Someone who loves geeky stuff is called a geek,” Phil smiled and wondered what this boy could achieve with American education. “You’re a geek! So, you enjoy school?”
“Yes, and no,” Adnan frowned. “It’s far away; I have to walk two kilometers to get there. I had a bike, but someone stole it. In winter, it’s so cold and there’s so much snow; taller than you; we cannot travel on the roads for days, and I have to stay at home.”
“That’s too bad,” Phil sympathized. “But, you must keep up with your studies.”
“Just one more year, and when I finish school, then I can do what my elder brothers do,” the boy brightened up.
“What do they do?” Phil asked with a raised eyebrow.
“They go to town with friends. They help my uncle take care of the farm. The whole day they can do what they want. They also get guns,” said Adnan, making a shooting motion with his fingers.
“Is that what you want to do? I thought you wanted a solar-panel business?” Phil looked disappointed. “You want to carry a gun?”
Phil now understood how important ideas such as the fair were. They offered something to bring the people together with peace and goodwill as the intent and to focus their minds on something other than guns and violence. The question caught Adnan unaware, and he thought for a while.
“That’s just one thing; I can do lots of things,” he whispered sheepishly. “All the men carry guns here; we have to protect ourselves. In America, you also have guns to protect yourself, no?”
“With your engineer’s mind, you could do wonders in your region,” Phil suggested, ignoring the question. “Give me some time, and I’ll try and find even more ideas. We’re here to look for my friend, but I’d love to spend time with you and figure out what you could be good at. You think about what you want to do, and I’ll try to see how I might help.”
“I’ll think about it, thank you,” Adnan looked pleased with Phil’s offer, but also seemed skeptical that improvement could include no guns. This is a nice man, but he’s not one of us, and he doesn’t understand our lives, Adnan thought to himself.
“A wise head on young shoulders,” Phil mused, unable to put himself in the boy’s shoes. “Like Adnan, the 9/11 terrorists must have been young once. If only they had been advised differently and given other options, would that have changed the course of events?”
Channeling youthful energy into worthwhile outcomes was typical of why he’d wanted to go to Borders. What Phil’s young mind did not fathom yet was that people’s mindset was not subject to overnight change. Change takes time.
“Okay, let’s check on the others and see if they’re awake yet,” offered Phil, getting to his feet. “You can meet my friends and talk about science with Ismail.”