“I don’t belong here; I must go home!”
Early in the morning, Ammi, Gulnoor, little Amu, Rebecca, and Abdullah left the camp. At Khar, they stayed at Ammi’s sister’s house for one night, and Rebecca was surprised to see how accommodating everyone was. Even though seven residents lived in the four-room apartment, it was so spacious that the new guests could have stayed for months, and no one would have felt inconvenienced.
In the evening, while everyone sat at the dastarkhans on the floor, in their segregated spaces, for a meal, Rebecca found herself all alone as she waited to use the restroom. On a desk, she saw a pencil and a notebook that belonged to the young girl who was using the bathroom. Quickly but quietly, Rebecca tore a page out, making sure there were no signs of a tear, and took the pencil, stuffing the items into the side pocket of her voluminous kurta.
Rebecca knew she had some time until the girl finished her meal.
I’ve got to put the pencil back before the girl returns to finish her homework, or else there will be hell to pay! Rebecca thought with her heart pounding. My life is on the line here!
Rebecca had tried to send a letter once before when she had come to town to get medicines. Her guard had seen her passing the note and snatched it out of the hands of the surprised shopkeeper. She was punished with 10 lashes and no food until Gulnoor had intervened.
“Why do you keep doing this, Becca Bibi?” Gulnoor would ask every time she got into trouble. “It pains me when they beat you.”
“I want to go home, Baaji,” Rebecca cried, though she acted brave, the pain and her situation brought tears in her eyes. “I don’t belong here; I must go home!”
And find help. I have to do something, Rebecca contemplated.
Rebecca prayed for better luck today. As soon as the girl came out, Rebecca told her it was time to eat and went into the spacious restroom. She wrote a letter introducing herself and explaining her plight as briefly as possible, drawing a rough map showing the campsite and surrounding landmarks. After five minutes, there was a knock on the door.
“Why are you inside the toilet for so long?” Abdullah barked, banging on the door, annoyed that he had to leave his meal to check on her. She quickly hid the folded letter and pencil in her kurta pocket and came out, covering herself with her chador.
“So long?” she shot back. “I have a bad stomach; I was inside for all of two minutes; what’s wrong with you?” She glared at him, and he went back to his meal. Rebecca slipped the pencil back in its place.
The next morning, Rebecca, Gulnoor and Abdullah made the trip to the big hospital. They walked up to the second floor where Dr. Zara, the only female oncologist in the area, had her clinic. Rebecca had always been the push for Gulnoor to get treated for her cancer. She was the only one who understood how critical it was to take care of this insidious ailment as soon as possible. She was hoping Dr. Zara would take matters into her hands and convince the uninterested husband.
When they arrived, there were eight patients seated on the rows of plastic chairs, and they waited for their turn. There was no appointment system, and people just turned up; a sour receptionist gave them a number on a piece of paper, and they waited and prayed. They could get lucky, or else they would wait long hours or even days for a chance to see the doctor. It was still early in the day, and more and more patients kept arriving. Soon, the chairs were all occupied, and other patients and their attendants squatted on the floor along the corridor.
Behind the building, the backdrop of mountains looked majestic and serene. In different circumstances, it would have been a pleasant setting, but all Rebecca could think about was her future and what it might hold. If she went back to the mountains without Gulnoor as her protector, there would be no reason to keep her alive; she feared, she may not even have a future at all. Though she had not allowed her captors ever to think they scared her, right now, she felt petrified.
What’s my plan? Am I ever going home? Does Phil think I’m dead? Do the authorities know I’m alive? Are people searching for me? These questions constantly rattled around Rebecca’s mind. At the camp, she was non-existent, and she hated the male-dominated society.
“I’m going to teach these chauvinists a lesson they’ll never forget, but how? What if Abdullah forces me to marry him? Then he’ll be able to do as he pleases with me!” she buried her head in her hands, trying to fight the tears that were already rolling down her cheeks. For the first time since her captivity, she was glad of the light blue burka that covered her face and hid her tears.
“How did she get this?” Rebecca cringed at the question from Abdullah after they were seated for the consultation with Dr. Zara. “Is it contagious?”
People sometimes used words of English mixed with Pashto, and usually, Rebecca was able to understand most of the conversations.
“Abdullah Sahib, cancer isn’t contagious. The patient isn’t at fault for getting this disease!” Dr. Zara replied. “If you want to get her well, she’ll need medical help and your support throughout the long treatment.”
She could see Dr. Zara was severely short-staffed. Rebecca remembered her time at the Kabul hospital with Ron and her other colleagues, and a profound sense of loss enveloped her. Rebecca knew Dr. Zara was the only hope for Gulnoor. Though she could have blurted out her predicament, out of respect for Gulnoor, she sat there quietly and made sure Dr. Zara was prescribing the proper treatment. If Rebecca got a chance, she would slip her note to the doctor. Rebecca knew of the dagger that Abdullah carried and that he would not hesitate to use it. She wondered if anyone in the room would stop him if he tried.
“Your wife has breast cancer, as you most probably know,” Dr. Zara informed Abdullah. “We’ll need to do some tests first. We’re looking at the treatment of two to three months. We can do the treatment here.”
“How bad is it? Can we wait?” asked Abdullah. Rebecca saw Gulnoor bow her head at that.
“I think you’ve waited long enough. If you want to save your wife, you must act as soon as possible; her treatment should have started months or even years ago!”
“Do you guarantee that you’ll cure her?” Abdullah grumbled.
“Only Allah can give that guarantee. We can merely do our best,” the doctor looked at the man with disgust.
“In that case, wouldn’t it be better to pray to Allah for her recovery?” He grew more belligerent by the minute.
“I only deal with medical questions here,” Dr. Zara shrugged. “You have come to me for treatment; you must decide what you want; I have other patients waiting to see me, and I don’t want to waste your time or theirs.”
“How much will all this cost?” the husband asked rudely, and thought, I do not want to be beholden to this arrogant bitch! How bold she is to look me in the face and speak to me in this fashion! This kind of behavior is what you get from educating women; they start thinking they are equal to men! I want to slap that superior look right off her ugly face!
“We do subside patient treatment here, and you pay as the treatment progresses,” the doctor replied coldly. “Even so, this is an expensive treatment; it could include tests, chemo, radiation, surgery and drugs; be prepared to spend around 20 to 30lacs over the next four months.”
“What!” Abdullah gasped. “That’s too much! I must speak with her brother first!”
“Yes, do consult your family,” Dr. Zara was used to such reactions; after all, the patient was a woman; that kind of money could get him a healthy, young, new wife. “The treatment is costly, but is there a price on a life?”
“Which you can’t guarantee saving!” He stalked out of the room in a rage to speak to Shaheen. Through the half-open door, he kept an eye on Rebecca.
Dr. Zara turned to see to a patient in another cubicle while Abdullah called Shaheen. She had seen enough of men’s attitudes with a diagnosis of their wife’s breast cancer. Gulnoor was going to lose one breast or both. Having the option of four wives, these tribal men could move on quickly and ignore the suffering of a dying spouse.
Rebecca knew that Abdullah respected Shaheen and would be obliged to stand by his wife. She wondered how much love played in marital relationships; after watching the interaction at camp for the last couple of months, apparently none.
Lust, yes; love no! she thought. It’s a sorry, sad situation, to say the least.
Mullah Shaheen must have approved his sister’s treatment because Abdullah came back all red in the face and told Dr. Zara to go ahead. As Rebecca listened to the doctor giving instructions about the schedule of the treatment, she knew for certain Gulnoor was not going to go back with her to camp, and a sense of fear came flooding back. Rebecca would be driven back to their camp with Abdullah and the driver, while Ammi, Amu, and Gulnoor stayed behind for the regular hospital visits.
After the examination, the doctor asked them to return in two days for tests; and if she could stay, that might give Rebecca a bit of time to save herself. She was increasingly anxious over the fact that with Gulnoor gone, she would be at the mercy of the men. Subconsciously, she touched the other object she had managed to take from Ammi’s sister’s house the night before. Tucked away in the side pocket of her kurta with the note was a small knife she had managed to lift from the kitchen.
Gulnoor was in front, following her husband, and Rebecca was a few steps behind trying to manage her cumbersome burka down the flight of dark stairs; she could hardly see through the lattice and was afraid she would come tumbling down any minute. Her mind was in turmoil, and she wondered if she had made the right choice by not giving her note to Dr. Zara and missing a good chance of escape. But how could Rebecca do that and complicate Gulnoor’s chances? She cursed herself and bit her lips hard.
As they emerged into the daylight, Rebecca heard a sweet voice ahead of her. “Have you seen them?” the words were carefully repeated.
The teenage girl handed a flyer to Gulnoor, who looked at Rebecca, and then at Abdullah, before she tried to hide it in her dress. Abdullah snatched the paper from her hand and looking at it, hurriedly called for the driver who was waiting near the gate a few feet away. The women were slowly making their way through the crowded hospital. Through the folds of their burkas, he grabbed Gulnoor and Rebecca by the scruff of their necks and tried to propel them roughly through the verandah towards the waiting vehicle.
Rebecca understood something had happened to alarm Abdullah. She struggled to get out of his grasp, but Abdullah just tightened his grip and yanked her onward, almost choking her.
Rebecca now saw the teenage girl, the one who was distributing the papers. The girl held out a flyer and asked loudly. “Have you seen them?” Rebecca caught sight of the images on the paper and gasped; there was no doubt about whose pictures she saw. The green eyes, the dimpled chin, and the sweet smile were too familiar. And there she was; it was Phil’s picture of her. But how had this girl gotten hold of it? Was he here? Her heart started racing as she flailed around to be free.
The driver saw the scuffle and rushed towards Abdullah as he tried to grab Rebecca’s wrists. There were lots of people around, but no one paid her any attention; they were busy with their own lives. The security guards strolling about saw the commotion but did not interfere; men must be allowed to handle their women. Rebecca felt her world could change with her next move; she knew this was the time to act.
Though Abdullah tried to block her, Rebecca pushed him aside and managed to pull her hand free from the man’s grip. She ran to the girl with the red scarf, who was just a few feet away. Rebecca pushed her handwritten message into the girl’s hand and hoped that she had enough sense to take it without a fuss. She did. She hesitated a minute in front of Rebecca but was pushed aside by Abdullah, who tried shoving Rebecca in front of him to get them into the parked vehicle.
“I’m Rebecca!” she screamed as she raised her burka and made another break towards the startled girl.
Abdullah dragged her back. She got out the knife and stabbed Abdullah’s hand. He cursed and released her in surprise.
Rebecca noticed another woman about her age. She was different somehow, perhaps not a local, and the commotion and Rebecca’s scream had caught her attention. The threesome, all confused, formed a team against Abdullah, and for the first time, Rebecca felt a genuine chance of escape. She turned to run while the girl and the other woman blocked Abdullah.
Abdullah held onto Gulnoor with his bleeding hand. Before Rebecca could run away, the driver ran after her and knocked down both the other girls with a mighty sweep of his elbows. He hit the knife out of Rebecca’s hand and dragged her by her neck towards their truck.
The battle was not over; the girls were back on their feet and charged towards Rebecca, who screamed when she saw the knife in the driver’s hand come down towards the woman’s back. The woman spun on her heel, and with one kick, the knife flew from the driver’s hands and landed on the ground. The driver had enough; he pushed the girl out of the way, punched Rebecca in the head, grabbed her around her waist, and threw her into the vehicle through the open door. Within moments, they were hurtling down the street as Rebecca’s screams and hopes faded.