Read Online For the Love of a Son: One Afghan Woman's Quest for Her Stolen Child by Jean Sasson - Free Book Online Page B

a connection
with, unlike his own brother, who was a cruel, ignorant man.
    My father knew he could not postpone the
confrontation with his brother much longer. It was inappropriate
for him to continue calling on the girl’s family without expressing
his purpose, so he gathered his courage to visit his brother. He
stood quietly on one of the many colorful tribal rugs in the grand
suite, waiting for his brother to complete some paperwork. Finally
Shair looked up, his cold eyes in an unsympathetic stare. ‘What?’
Shair shouted, as impatient as always.
    My father knew if he hesitated his courage
would disappear. ‘My brother, I have found the woman I want to
marry’ He plunged fully, admitting, ‘She is as you said. She only
speaks Farsi. She is educated. She works as a schoolteacher. She
shows her face to people who aren’t part of her family.’ My father
paused before adding the most damning bit of information, ‘She is
of the Tajik tribe. Her father is closely linked to the royal
family.’ Then my father did something so unlike him – he lied. ‘I
have already proposed to her father.’ My father watched as Shair
Khan’s face reflected his formidable anger. Shair’s face paled,
then reddened, then paled again. His dark eyes sparked with rage.
He clenched his fists before slowly rising to his feet.
    My father braced himself for a physical
assault.
    Shair cleared his throat as he moved from
behind his massive desk and walked in measured steps, the whites of
his eyes streaked with red. His angry face was only inches from my
father’s face. The two stepbrothers locked eyes.
    The staring challenge felt endless, but to my
father’s surprise, Shair Khan broke his gaze first, shouting over
his shoulder for his special servant to summon his main wife Nina
and his favourite daughter Seema. Nothing more was said between
Shair and my father until the two women rushed in.
    A fuming Shair snarled, ‘My brother Ajab has
assumed my position as head of this family. He has gone behind my
back to ask an unsuitable woman to be his wife.’
    The women were still as stones, never having
heard of such impertinence in their life. They probably assumed
that Shair had ordered them to appear so they might plan my
father’s funeral. Pashtun men had been sent to the grave for lesser
offences.
    Shair sneered. ‘Because my brother has moved
forward with something that is none of his business, I am forced
into an impossible situation. Our honor is at stake, so the family
must continue the process. But I refuse to be involved. Instead,
you’ – he nodded first at Nina, then at Seema – ‘and you, will
approach the family and complete the obligatory arrangements.’
    Nina and Seema trembled at the
responsibility. Such an important marriage was normally arranged by
the head of the tribe, but now Shair was delegating the mission to
women. They knew that if their efforts did not please him they
would be blamed.
    The two frightened women crept from the room
and my father followed. The heavy wooden door slammed with an
echoing crash behind him.
    Nina’s lips were quivering and her hands were
trembling when she cornered my father to ask, ‘Ajab, who is this
woman?’
    ‘Her name is Sharifa Hassen. Her family is
well known in Kabul.’
    Nina’s face was red and her voice became
high-pitched. ‘You are a troublemaker, Ajab! And now you are
bringing us in! How could you go behind your brother’s back on such
an important matter?’
    My father shrugged. How could any man explain
love?
    In adulthood my father rarely felt fear, and
he had become nearly oblivious to his eldest brother’s threats and
actions. Yet on this matter he felt a cold sense of dread because
of the lie he had told. He had not yet asked Sharifa
Hassen’s father for his daughter’s hand in marriage. My father knew
that the Khail name would be dishonored if he asked for a woman’s
hand in marriage and was then turned down. Shair was a man who
fretted incessantly about