I had no way of knowing if it had arrived, so I could only hope that the letter found Khala Shaima. It wasn’t until many years later, a lifetime really, that I heard it had been discovered in her hand by her older sister, my khala Zeba. Khala Zeba couldn’t make sense of it anyway, since she’d never gone to school or learned her letters. She was too distraught at finding her sickly sister cold and breathless to give it much thought then anyway. But two weeks later, when the rhythm of her life returned and the birds had prayed all they could over Khala Shaima’s grave, she would ask her husband to read it for her and be puzzled, wondering which cousin would write to her crippled sister of things as mundane as birds and the weather.
The letter was signed Bibi Shekiba.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thank you to my parents who gave me the tools to write about a girl who deserves the world. I am yours, always. To Zoran and Zayla, you made this story important to tell — I love you. Thank you to my husband, Amin, for your ideas, discussions, and faith in me. You’ve made my dreams come true. To my street-smart, wise-cracking brother, Fawod, my first and forever fan, thank you for your absolute confidence. Fahima, my muse, the spark that ignited this story and my first reader, how grateful I am for your support, every day! I am thankful for the legacy I’ve inherited, the creativity and traditions from the greats and grands in my own family, and hope to pay tribute to them through this story.
A great big hug to my agent, Helen Heller, who took my draft and ran with it. Thank you for your confidence and guiding ideas through this process. A special thanks to my editor, Rachel Kahan, for taking this story on and never letting go! Your input and feedback has been invaluable and I am so glad to be with you. Much appreciation to the entire team at William Morrow for turning a draft into a real thing! No list of thanks would be complete without acknowledging the impact that teachers and coffee shops have on realizing dreams. My gratitude to Tahera Shairzay, who provided invaluable firsthand insight into the workings of the Afghan parliament and for her contribution to progress in Kabul. My appreciation to Louis and Nancy Dupree for their contributions to documenting Afghanistan’s culture and history. Their works have been an invaluable resource.
This story is loosely based on historical figures in Afghanistan as well as contemporary citizens. It is a work of fiction and I have taken great liberties, but I have no doubt that more of it is factual than we would hope. A special acknowledgment to the daughters, sisters, mothers, aunts, and teachers of Afghanistan, and to those individuals and groups who work so tirelessly to make that world a better place. To the daughters of Afghanistan, may the sun warm your faces as you forge your paths.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
NADIA HASHIMI’s parents left Afghanistan in the 1970s, before the Soviet invasion. She was raised in the United States, and in 2002 she visited Afghanistan for the first time with her parents. Hashimi is a pediatrician and lives with her family in suburban Washington, D.C.
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