hadn’t been able to do anything to keep the doctors from torturing her in Afghanistan or in Iran, had he? And even though the American doctors didn’t hurt her as much, they still insisted on washing her in places where she was hurting, where she wanted to be left untouched.
What could her father actually do , she wondered, if the Americans decided to kill them both? Or what if they decided that Zubaida wasn’t worth the effort and it was easier to just kill her? What could her father do to stop them?
Even worse, what if the Americans possessed ways to harm Zubaida and her father that neither of them could even imagine—ways that would make them wish for death, instead?
* * *
On June 2, 2002, The New York Times published articles stating that the FBI had stumbled in its anti-terrorist work so far, and the CIA was publicly acknowledging that the successful penetration of tiny, fanatical terrorist cells was virtually impossible. The CIA article contained a photo of former Director George Tenet at the CIA memorial wall, reaching out to touch a star representing an operative killed in Afghanistan. The war for hearts and minds in Afghanistan was portrayed as a near impossibility.
On that same day, halfway around the world, the same Special Forces Sergeant who had accompanied Mohammed Hasan to get his visa was now driving the military truck to ferry Hasan and Zubaida to the transport plane for the trip to Afghanistan’s capital of Kabul. From there, they would be administered with a host of vaccinations and Zubaida would have more antibiotic treatment before they flew on to the United States.
In the weeks since Zubaida was taken into the military medical system, the Sergeant and his squad had managed to keep a constant supply of small amounts of pocket cash flowing to Hasan and his daughter, making it possible for them to remain in Kandahar while preliminary medical work was done on her. The squad members all knew their careers were at risk for breaking the list of Perfectly Good Reasons why a local civilian should never be taken into the U.S. medical system. The infamously low pay of non-commissioned officers was a further deterrent to discourage the soldiers from pulling money out of personal supplies that were never enough to begin with.
The intensity of commitment required for Special Forces work discourages rule-breaking of any kind. Nevertheless, the domino chain never failed to move forward yet another notch, every time another combat soldier or military physician had their first actual contact with her. Whether it was the freakish level of her injuries or the unflinching eyes that stared back from beneath her carapace of scar tissue, the energy wave carrying Zubaida continued to roll ahead.
The unspoken message was somehow conveyed with every individual’s reaction to the dilemma that she presented. Whether or not they ever said the words, their actions spoke them loud enough to hear.
Screw it. Sometimes the rules just don’t fit.
The Sergeant pulled the truck next to the military transport plane and noticed that Zubaida appeared to be frightened and depressed. He realized that this was not only her first plane ride, but probably the first time she had ever seen one up close. So before they transferred out of the truck, he presented her with a basket of treats that some of the soldiers on base put together for her as a send-off gift.
Her eyes sparkled for a few moments when he surprised her with the basket, but her mood shot straight back down when she realized that the gift didn’t mean she was being spared from having to go. From her point of view, everything around her had become unreal and was happening much too fast.
Ever since her accident, any sort of new and strange experience went hand-in-hand with adults who did painful things to her. Now the massive rumbling sounds of the revving airplane engines were far too strange; they seemed to guarantee that there was going to be something awful waiting
What could her father actually do , she wondered, if the Americans decided to kill them both? Or what if they decided that Zubaida wasn’t worth the effort and it was easier to just kill her? What could her father do to stop them?
Even worse, what if the Americans possessed ways to harm Zubaida and her father that neither of them could even imagine—ways that would make them wish for death, instead?
* * *
On June 2, 2002, The New York Times published articles stating that the FBI had stumbled in its anti-terrorist work so far, and the CIA was publicly acknowledging that the successful penetration of tiny, fanatical terrorist cells was virtually impossible. The CIA article contained a photo of former Director George Tenet at the CIA memorial wall, reaching out to touch a star representing an operative killed in Afghanistan. The war for hearts and minds in Afghanistan was portrayed as a near impossibility.
On that same day, halfway around the world, the same Special Forces Sergeant who had accompanied Mohammed Hasan to get his visa was now driving the military truck to ferry Hasan and Zubaida to the transport plane for the trip to Afghanistan’s capital of Kabul. From there, they would be administered with a host of vaccinations and Zubaida would have more antibiotic treatment before they flew on to the United States.
In the weeks since Zubaida was taken into the military medical system, the Sergeant and his squad had managed to keep a constant supply of small amounts of pocket cash flowing to Hasan and his daughter, making it possible for them to remain in Kandahar while preliminary medical work was done on her. The squad members all knew their careers were at risk for breaking the list of Perfectly Good Reasons why a local civilian should never be taken into the U.S. medical system. The infamously low pay of non-commissioned officers was a further deterrent to discourage the soldiers from pulling money out of personal supplies that were never enough to begin with.
The intensity of commitment required for Special Forces work discourages rule-breaking of any kind. Nevertheless, the domino chain never failed to move forward yet another notch, every time another combat soldier or military physician had their first actual contact with her. Whether it was the freakish level of her injuries or the unflinching eyes that stared back from beneath her carapace of scar tissue, the energy wave carrying Zubaida continued to roll ahead.
The unspoken message was somehow conveyed with every individual’s reaction to the dilemma that she presented. Whether or not they ever said the words, their actions spoke them loud enough to hear.
Screw it. Sometimes the rules just don’t fit.
The Sergeant pulled the truck next to the military transport plane and noticed that Zubaida appeared to be frightened and depressed. He realized that this was not only her first plane ride, but probably the first time she had ever seen one up close. So before they transferred out of the truck, he presented her with a basket of treats that some of the soldiers on base put together for her as a send-off gift.
Her eyes sparkled for a few moments when he surprised her with the basket, but her mood shot straight back down when she realized that the gift didn’t mean she was being spared from having to go. From her point of view, everything around her had become unreal and was happening much too fast.
Ever since her accident, any sort of new and strange experience went hand-in-hand with adults who did painful things to her. Now the massive rumbling sounds of the revving airplane engines were far too strange; they seemed to guarantee that there was going to be something awful waiting
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