He leapt up from his blankets, his machine gun already in his hand. He pointed the gun right at the man’s head. “Get out of here!” he shouted at the man.
The man froze, then raised his hands in the air to show his harmlessness. He slowly rose to his feet and backed away. Then he turned and ran out of the camp. Everyone in the camp woke up. Someone asked, “What happened?” Another man close to us called out, “There’s a robber around.” People startled awake and began checking their things.
“I’ve seen him stealing for the past two nights while we were in the caves,” Laila said. I was furious she hadn’t said anything. A few men arose and began searching for the thief, but Masood did not move from standing over us, his hand on his machine gun, his eyes searching the camp. Conversation rose in the camp. Men stoked the campfires and sat around sharing their experiences with robberies, break-ins, and the trouble they’d had on the road, and even though the stories were tragic, the talk itself among the community became a safe haven in the dark. Some sat around talking, others lay in their blankets, too exhausted to move. Masood stood over us, vigilant and alert. I tried to follow the conversation, but I was so fatigued, my limbs so heavy. I just wanted to surrender to the night. I lay back down. So did Zia and my sisters.
Our guide finally sat on his blanket, but he didn’t lie down. “Tomorrow we climb the biggest mountain. Get some sleep.”
I stared at the stars. They gleamed back at me, spread across the blackness in uncountable numbers, the earth and sky connected in pinpoints of light. This would be my last night sleeping in dirt. The ground was hard, but somehow even its hardness had become comfortable. I remembered owning a bed of feathers and springs, but I didn’t remember what that comfort was like. Now I had only a backpack as a pillow and the stars for my ceiling. They were luminous enough that I could have read a book by their light. I gathered my shawl over me to keep warm. The air had a crystal clarity to it; I could see forever into the sky. I let my thoughts roam to the happy moments when my whole family had been together. The words of “Within the Circle” came to mind:
God created the circle the same way he created the stars and the planets. It seemed so simple. If that were true, then I was part of his great cosmic plan, and someday I’d return here.
We rose before daylight to prepare for our day. There was an excitement in our group as we packed. “Today we climb the last mountain into Pakistan,” Masood said cheerfully. When we set out, Zia told me to stay close to him, that he would help me up. Fatima walked with such a heavy step, I wondered how she would make it up. We would have no donkeys.
These were the highest parts of the Hindu Kush, and the trails up the steep sides were narrow and treacherous, often strewn with boulders, and ran right along cliffs. Since I was the youngest in our group, I knew they were all concerned with how I was going to make it up this last mountain that separated the two nations. Once we reached the peak and crossed over the other side, we’d be in Pakistan. No more sleeping on the ground. No more eating with our hands. No more dodging bullets.
All during that day of hiking, I took the trail so easily, with a different step than when we had begun so many months before. Spring had just arrived in Kabul when Padar woke us in the middle of the night and set us off, and now the air had grown chilly. Ramadan had passed, so the summer was well over and fall was setting in. We had been on the road nearly six months. Everything about me had changed during that time, as if my very DNA had been rearranged.
I believed my pleasant life would last forever. I now knew the error of that thinking. Life could change in an instant.
In the cool of the early day, we reached the base of the last mountain. We had been climbing for about a week through the Hindu Kush to reach this mountain. We were already several thousand feet high, but this mountain went even higher. It was by far the tallest one we’d seen. It was also the steepest one we’d encountered. But on the other side of it lay Pakistan and freedom. We all stood at the bottom gazing upward at the thin, well-trodden dirt path etched in the side of the mountain. It zigzagged up the rocky face until it disappeared into a wispy line as thin as a piece of string. Masood began up the trail, but the rest of us stood there, looking up the face of the mountain. No one said anything; it was impossible not to be intimidated. But I’d come this far. I’d faced down soldiers, a wolf, and a scorpion, and I refused to let this mountain get in the way of my reunion with Padar and comfort.
I turned to Laila, Zulaikha, and Zia behind me. “Let’s run up it.”
“You’re crazy.” Laila shook her head in disgust. “We can’t run up it. We’ll be lucky if we can walk up!”
Even Zia looked awed by the trail. I smiled at them, turned, and took off. I caught up with Masood, then I sprinted out in front. I wanted to blaze the trail. If I found something that would block our way, I could go back and warn them. Every step upward, it became a little more difficult to breathe, but I was a lion, I would not give up. Soon I was so far ahead of them, they had disappeared from view. I ran up the trail for hours. When I finally reached the summit, I collapsed on the ground, panting for breath. After I recuperated, I stood and took in the view. I could see across both sides of the mountain. Afghanistan to the west was a series of mountains and valleys that went on and on. To the east I could see the buildings of Peshawar. I was straddling the border, one foot in each country. One of Padar’s proverbs came to mind: “One cannot exist with a heart torn in half between two loves, two decisions, or two worlds, because it will eventually break in two.”
I didn’t want to leave Afghanistan, but I stood there gazing into Pakistan. I must leave one to reach the other.
Alone on the mountaintop for several hours, I ran through in my mind what I was leaving, possibly to never return. The memories of the happy times had already faded. I turned toward the new country, Pakistan, and wondered what lay ahead. By the time the others arrived, sadness over leaving Afghanistan had mutated into anticipation for the future. We rested there for a while before beginning to descend. When it was time to go, I couldn’t wait to get into Pakistan, so I ran all the way down the mountain. I could hardly contain my enthusiasm until I reached the bottom. I was alone and out of breath, but I felt hopeful for the first time since the Kuchi woman had sold me the bangles and the scorpion jar.
A long line of soldiers with rifles stood along the border post, blocking our way. I looked back up the trail at our group, and all I could see was a row of dots descending the mountain. I waited, smiled at the soldiers, trying to get their attention, and when the group finally reached me, they were dusty, tired, and thirsty. I pointed to the soldiers in front of us. Masood told us to wait together and went up to speak to them. One of the soldiers glanced over at me, and I pleaded with my eyes: Please don’t hurt us. Just let us pass. We’ve come so far and been through so much to get here. The soldiers talked among themselves, then told Masood something. He wasn’t smiling when he turned from them.
Masood came slowly back and bent on one knee to speak to us. “They will let you and Fatima through, but I can’t go.”
We all stared at him.
“You will be fine,” he said, his voice as authoritative as ever. He pointed to something beyond the border post. “That’s a bus stop over there. Wait there for the bus, and it will take you directly into Peshawar.”