‘Allahu Akbar,’ Saleem said. And then, in very good English, ‘Welcome to our home!’
He ushered them in. ‘You must be very hungry,’ he announced as they walked past the fruit trees. ‘Harata and Aarya have prepared food for you. Come in, come in!’
At the main entrance to the house, the family removed their shoes. Ben and Bel did the same before stepping inside. It was dark here, but cooler, which was a relief. They were led through an empty hallway into a room with a low round table no more than knee height. ‘Please,’ Saleem told them, ‘sit.’ And as if showing them what to do, he sat on the floor at the table. Ben and Bel copied him.
The three of them chatted politely about the journey while Aarya and her mother brought bowls of food to the table. Delicious smells filled the room and Ben realized he was ravenous. Still without looking him fully in the eye, Aarya handed him a plate of spiced lamb and a huge, warm flatbread. Ben looked around for some cutlery, but there was none and Saleem smiled at him. ‘We eat with our right hand, Ben,’ he said, before tearing off a piece of his bread and using it to scoop up the lamb. Ben did the same and crammed the food into his mouth. It was delicious.
‘We are sorry,’ Saleem said politely to Bel, ‘that you cannot stay with us longer than one night.’
Bel inclined her head. ‘My work…’ she explained between mouthfuls of food.
‘I understand that you are going to Afghanistan.’
She nodded.
Saleem’s face grew serious. ‘It is a troubled country,’ he said mildly.
‘I hope what I am going there to do will help to heal it,’ Bel replied. As she started to explain the reasons for her visit, Ben’s mind began to wander. He supposed he should be feeling nervous; but the family with whom he would be staying had been so welcoming that he almost felt at home. He looked at Aarya and smiled. For the first time, she smiled back.
His ears tuned in once more to what his mum was saying. ‘… and as the Taliban use money from the poppy trade to finance the war, it’s important that we do something to stamp it out.’
The Taliban. With those two words, a sense of unease returned to Ben’s stomach. He remembered everything Carl had said in the car, and he found himself wanting to know more.
‘Are there Taliban here?’ he asked.
There was a silence. Aarya and her mother bowed their heads and looked down at their food. Saleem cleared his throat uncomfortably. Somebody shouted out in the street, and for a moment it was the only sound. He blushed.
It was Saleem who broke the silence. ‘Aarya is looking forward to showing you her school tomorrow,’ he said. The girl’s head remained bowed. ‘We do not get many young people travelling to our village.’
Ben hardly heard him. His skin was still hot with embarrassment and his mind was ticking over. He had asked about the Taliban and the mood had changed. Now he had just one question in his head.
Why?
Chapter Three
Ben and his mother slept on rolled-up mattresses that had been unfurled on the hard floor of a plain room which contained nothing but a religious text on the wall in Arabic. They were woken just before sunrise by the call to prayer. As Ben drowsily sat up he listened to the lone voice of the muezzin — the mosque official — wailing into the early morning. A bit different from the annoying beep of his alarm clock back home, he thought. And then he saw that his mum was already packing her rucksack by the light of a torch. He watched her for a while before she realized he was awake.
Bel smiled at him. A sad smile. ‘I’m leaving at sunrise,’ she said. ‘I’ve got an army escort picking me up and then…’
‘You will be careful, won’t you, Mum?’
She sat on his mattress and ran her hand through his hair. ‘Course I will, love. Don’t worry. They’ll take good care of me. And Aarya and her family will take good care of you.’
He nodded.
‘I have to go,’ Bel said. ‘I’ll see you in two weeks, OK?’
‘OK, Mum,’ Ben said quietly. He kissed her, then continued to watch as Bel finished her packing and quietly left the room.
Ben suddenly felt very alone. He wished he could lose himself in sleep, but there was no way that was going to happen now. As the wailing of the call to prayer faded away, he hauled himself from his bed, got dressed and ventured out of the room. Aarya and her mother were already up. The small house smelled of fresh bread and the women were placing tea and small, sweet pastries on the table.
‘Good morning, Ben,’ Aarya said. Her English was surprisingly good.
‘Morning.’ Ben yawned. He looked around. ‘Where’s your dad?’
‘He has gone to the mosque to pray. My mother and I made our prayers at home when we awoke.’ She gestured towards the table. ‘Please. Eat.’
Saleem returned just as Ben was finishing his breakfast. His face glistened: it was already hot outside. Any of the awkwardness that Ben had caused last night had disappeared and his smile was as broad as ever. ‘Your mother has left?’ he asked.
Ben nodded. He didn’t want to show that he missed her already.
Saleem looked genuinely upset. ‘I had hoped to say goodbye,’ he announced. Then he rubbed his hands together. ‘Never mind, never mind. You and Aarya should leave. School starts early here, Ben, before the day becomes too hot.’
Moments later, Aarya was beside him, a small canvas bag of books slung over her shoulder. She smiled at him and led the way to the door.
The early morning sun was bright. It shone through the fruit trees in the courtyard and made Ben’s skin feel warm. ‘How far to the school?’ he asked Aarya.
‘It is close,’ she said. ‘Only ten minutes to walk there.’
‘Your English is very good.’
She looked away modestly. ‘I try to study hard,’ she said. ‘And I talk to any English people who come here. They help me.’ She smiled. ‘I am looking forward to coming to your country in the future.’
Ben nodded. They were in the main street now and it was surprisingly crowded. They passed shops that were little more than open-fronted stalls selling all kinds of things: brightly patterned material for clothes, fruit, records, engine parts. All the shopkeepers smiled at him as if they were trying to persuade him to come into their store. Ben, of course, just kept walking and looking around. Many people wore traditional dress: women in brightly coloured robes, many with headscarves wrapped around their heads and covering their hair, men with long beards and turbans. But there were just as many, like Aarya, in jeans. He noticed that she received some disapproving looks from a few of the older people, even though to Ben’s eyes she was dressed rather modestly — unfashionably, even. Ben himself attracted attention too, but more because of his white skin than anything else.
For a minute or so, they walked in silence as Ben absorbed the sights, sounds and smells of this strange place. But he couldn’t stay quiet for long. The conversation they’d had at last night’s meal had stayed with him and he wasn’t the kind of person to keep quiet about these things.
‘Aarya?’ he asked.
‘Yes?’
‘Last night at the table, I mentioned the Taliban and everyone went quiet. Why?’
For a moment he thought she wasn’t going to answer. She slowed her pace slightly and looked away.