The Puppetmasters (36 page)

He hoped to blend right in if need be. While they were only a group of three—and the normal
Kuchi
family had extended members—Rashid figured he would pass them off as a young family on the way to meet relatives in the next village.
Kuchis
often traveled together, but in small bands, maybe a few hours behind their other family members. He would just need to lie convincingly.

Kendall laughed when Poya pulled out a small sack of
lur
and offered her a lump. He immediately popped a piece of the hard candy made from brown sugar into his mouth, and a slow smile spread across his face. He was clearly relishing the taste.

He recounted that some children asked him to play
mosa
near the market, and he did. But he was older and taller than the other kids and soon lost interest. Rashid explained to Kendall that
mosa
was like horseshoes but with the use of a rock instead of a horseshoe.

Poya had not learned anything critical about their predicament or the government situation. He had only seen a few soldiers who seemed to be strolling about rather than hunting for someone or something. He watched a little news
on a flat-screen television at a shop inside a tent at the market, but was shooed off by the owner for loitering.

Rashid asked him where the other children were, and why he came back alone. Poya broke into a huge grin and said they all went to watch a game of
buzkashi
at a nearby field. Rashid had seen most of the men leaving the caves, and now realized where they’d gone.
Buzkashi,
he explained to Kendall, was a game like polo played on horseback, but using the carcass of a
kokpar
—a headless goat or calf instead of a ball. The game was very violent and frequently resulted in severe physical injuries. Riders, or
chapendaz,
were often at the mercy of other player’s whips and boots. The whips, carried in the riders’ teeth, were used to fend off opposing riders and horses. At least a day before the match, the
kokpar
or carcass is beheaded, disemboweled, with its limbs cut off at the knees. It’s then soaked for twenty-four hours in cold water to toughen it. The preference was to use a calf over a goat, because it was less likely to disintegrate during the game.

Kendall was once again horrified to learn the details of this seemingly barbaric game. Poya was eager to watch the game, and asked Rashid to come with him. The latter thought it might be the perfect opportunity to blend in while scoping out any tension around the city. They quickly ate the
pulao
—a rice dish with mutton and vegetables—that Poya also brought back from the market.

Rashid and Poya set off for the field mid-afternoon. The game was halfway through the first forty-five minute half when they arrived. They decided to walk around the field to a place that had no spectators. That way they were safe from scrutiny and could enjoy the spectacle. Poya had never watched a game of
buzkashi
before, and thought it was thrilling the way the eight horses galloped by and how quickly the
kokpar
changed sides. The young boy shrank back when a rider got hit by his adversary’s whip. The crowd whooped and cheered loudly when one side scored in the opponent’s
kazan
—or goal.

At the fifteen minute half-time break, they walked around keeping to themselves. They did not notice the man with a pair of binoculars trained on them. They walked a little further out on a small path heading away from the field, so that Poya could relieve himself. All of a sudden, that same man who had been watching them started waving his hands and yelling at them. Rashid heard the loud voice over the din and was startled to see the man running towards them … arms flapping.

Thinking the man recognized them, Rashid yelled for Poya to run further along the path into the shrubs along the hillside. He took off towards Poya and looking back over his shoulder at the man who was now capturing everyone’s attention, missed the short red stake that had been driven into the ground to his left to indicate an unsafe minefield that had not yet been cleared of the landmines.

The blast knocked Rashid off his feet. He lay unmoving on the hard ground. The crowd and players reacted by scattering the opposite direction. The man finally reached Rashid and helped him to his feet and brushed off the dirt that covered him. Rashid was shaken and momentarily disoriented and deaf. After a few minutes, with the sympathetic man telling him that he had tried to warn him of the nearby minefield, Rashid understood for the first time that the man had been trying to help him. He gave the man a grim smile, looked around at the clearing smoke, dust, and debris raining down on them, and shouted Poya’s name.

As the air cleared and he regained some of his bearings, he saw the heap of bloody clothing first. He quickly ran over to the boy and grabbed Poya up in his arms. The boy had detonated the landmine when he stepped directly on it. Hundreds of metal fragments had torn through his body. He never had a chance.

Rashid turned when he heard the roar of an engine, and saw a pickup truck of Afghanistan National Police headed their way. The police were probably coming to help, but he couldn’t take the chance of being recognized. He gently laid Poya’s lifeless body on the ground. He then reached into his pockets and pulled out a wad of
Afghani.
He shoved it at the kind man and asked him to give Poya a proper burial.

With tears streaming down his face, and his head down, Rashid quickly ran past the approaching truck. He stumbled, blindly, back to their stone dwelling, still trying to clear his head, and burst into the cave. He threw himself at a surprised Kendall. Through his stilted speech, she got the gist of the horrific events. He sank onto the hard earthen ground pulling her down with him. He wrapped his arms around her, completely consumed with grief and guilt. How had he missed the clear sign of a nearby landmine? How could he have let his guard down even for a moment? Poor Poya. He hadn’t deserved this.

Kendall held him tight and shushed him quietly, because he was speaking in English. She was afraid others would hear. But their neighbors were already suspicious. Some had seen Rashid and Poya at the game and thought it was odd the two stood where they did, near an uncleared mine field. All of the locals knew better than to stand there. These two people sharing their caves were obviously strangers. Now, word was spreading that they spoke English. Two men quietly went to summon the local authorities or soldiers, whichever they came across first.

Kendall could feel they were now in danger. She extracted herself from Rashid’s prostrate form and efficiently gathered their things. She then knelt down and grabbed Rashid’s arms. She looked him directly into his eyes and said in a stern low voice, “Rashid, stop! There is no time to mourn. What’s done is done! It’s terrible, and we’ll deal with it later. We are in danger. People have been looking in at us. I think they are talking about us. We must leave now!”

She stood up and yanked his arms as hard as she could. He seemed to snap out of it, and scrambled to his feet. She took one of Poya’s shirts and wiped Rashid’s face. It took two trips to get all of their stuff back in the jeep.

As they drove out of the cave area, they could see lights flashing in the distance, coming towards them. Their way was clear in the opposite direction. They headed away from the oncoming lights. Rashid’s face was rigid and tense. He constantly looked in his rearview mirror. For the moment, they were safe. But he figured the authorities were only thirty minutes behind them. He made a split-second decision to head to the Band-e-Amir Lakes. The road to Band-e-Amir was crudely paved, while the infrastructure around Kabul and the government offices had been upgraded to very passable roads. President Shazeb had not welcomed visitors and tourists. Many of the tourist destinations had fallen into disrepair from lack of funds.

It was now dark, and they had to climb two thousand feet to the ten-thousand-foot elevation of the lakes. Again, Rashid was worried about their headlights being seen. He stopped the jeep, and they put on their night vision goggles. While he drove slowly and carefully in the darkness, Kendall rummaged around for something to eat and drink. They ate on the run. This was beginning to be a habit for them.

Rashid gripped the steering wheel like he was hanging on for dear life. Kendall couldn’t stand it anymore. She reached out her warm hand and placed it gently over his arm. He could feel the heat radiating the length of his arm. He instantly relaxed and eased his grip. He looked over at her and his eyes were wide and intense with anger.

“Why Poya? He didn’t deserve this! He was just a boy. I had hoped he would have a stable life with Jangi. I was planning to check on him and make sure he was happy. Once I made a new life for myself, I would gladly have brought him there if his situation wasn’t working out. He deserved to have a new a life. He never had a stable life until he came to live with me. Even then, he was in constant danger from the Shazebs. I wanted him to get educated and go to college.”

Kendall let him ramble until his voice gave out. She patted his arm. “I’m so sorry, Rashid. I know he meant the world to you.”

His voice cracked, “I couldn’t even stay to arrange for a proper burial.”

She murmured soothingly, “It couldn’t be helped.”

He shook his head. “But if I’d only known. I’m used to the rocks painted red on the sides of the road. That’s how I know of an uncleared minefield. I missed it.”

His voice faltered and gave out. They rode in silence for a long time, each lost in thought to the unexpected events of the day. Kendall wondered at the
passing barren landscape. There were no trees on the sides of the road. But she could clearly make out large reddish-looking lumps along the way.

Finally out of curiousity, she pointed to one and said, “Rashid, what are those red mounds?”

He frowned at the distraction to his brooding. “That’s moss. The village men come up here with their donkeys and use pick-axes to harvest it.”

“Really? What’s it used for?”

“It’s stored on rooftops and used as kindling for fires.”

They drove by a stone building close to the road. Before she could ask, Rashid pointed it out, “That’s a tea stop. During the day, we could stop there for a cup of green tea. The men sit outside on a piece of carpet and talk.” She shook her head at the comparison to a Starbucks store back home. What a different world she was in. She wondered if she’d ever see home again.

As they drove on and began to climb, Kendall could see the clear demarcation of the sedimentary rock in the hillsides. At one point, they drove by a place with poles stuck into the land. Atop each pole was a flag. “Rashid, is that a cemetery?”

“Yes.”

“Way out here in the hills?”

“Yes. Those graves belong to ancestors of the nomads that roam the mountainside.”

“How do they make a living?”

“They have herds of sheep and goats.”

“Oh, like the boys we almost ran into when we left Kabul?”

“Exactly.”

Two hours later they arrived at the first of the six lakes that comprise the Band-e-Amir Lakes. The full light of the moon reflected off the clear smooth water. The sight was breathtaking.

“Rashid, tell me about the lakes.”

“Hmm. They are in the Hindu Kush Mountains west of Bamiyan. The water is so clear you can see the fish from one hundred feet up the cliff. And the water’s very cold.” He pointed at the obvious rock face. “There’s a natural dam formed by mineral deposits. In fact, it’s one of the few rare lakes in the world formed by limestone and mineral springs. Did you know that it’s considered one of the wonders of the world?”

“No, I didn’t know that.” She saw a row of tents. “It looks like a bazaar of sorts.”

“It’s a small bazaar by the largest lake. Most of the population is the same
as in Bamiyan. They are
Hazaras.
The only industry is the flour mills below the dam and the old tourist buildings and monuments. The millstones are turned by using the power of the water.”

Kendall nodded. “Where are we going now?”

“To the lake at the far end. We’re going to camp.”

“In the car?”

Rashid laughed. “No. It’s not exactly a
kaidi,
but it’ll do for us.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask. What’s a
kaidi?”

“A
kaidi
tent is a large tent that the
Kuchi
nomads use. Mine is just a light brown—sort of khaki colored canvas tent used for sleeping. We’ll barely be able to sit inside it.”

“Yikes! So, we’re out in the open most of the time then?”

“Yep. We should be good unless it rains.”

“Wonderful! It keeps getting better,” Kendall said dryly.

“Is that sarcasm I detect?”

“Sorry. I’ll be a better companion once I’ve had a little food and sleep.”

They passed a lot of caravans and broken-down cars, a few camels, and horses. Each campsite had a fire around which a family sat. Rashid finally found an isolated spot a little out of the way and pulled over. He explained to Kendall that they had a lot of creature comforts in the jeep, but he didn’t want to call attention to them, so they were going to set up a bare campsite. He thought it was best that they re-group in the morning and make their plans. He was just too tired to think any more.

Rashid skillfully set up the tent, after which Kendall laid out the bedrolls inside. When she was through, she turned to the next task, and was surprised that Rashid had a roaring fire going. He quickly heated water for tea, and they ate nuts, fruit, and dried mutton from the supplies Jangi and his wife had given them. Kendall felt much better after having some hot tea. She hated the inconvenience of not having a bathroom.

“Rashid, do you have a flashlight?”

He frowned, “Yes, but we’re not going to use it now.”

“Why? I need to find a bush!”

He laughed. “Oh, that. Well, let me come with you, and I’ll give you the smallest light I have. But we’ll need to walk a ways, because I don’t want anyone to see our light. We can’t afford to draw attention to us.”