‘If only the police would take this seriously,’ Sofia said, feeling her anger rising.
‘Yes, of course, but whatever happens, Sofia dear, you must promise me that you’ll keep out of this. If it turns out to be some sort of ring taking these boys then it’s far too dangerous for you to be involved. Leave it to Taban and me, and hopefully the police.’
‘Speaking of which,’ Sofia said, brushing off his warning as she rose from the chair, ‘do you want to ring Chief Wasim to tell him about Farahnaz’s brother or should I?’
‘I’ll ring him.’
‘And I’ll give Taban a call to see if she knows anything about Rayi’s disappearance. Okay, I’d better go. I’m supposed to be giving a talk to one of Zahra’s women’s groups for lunch today about my work with the midwives and I haven’t organised any notes.’
Jabril pulled a face. ‘Be careful. Those women’ll eat you alive.’
‘They’re okay,’ Sofia said with a smile. Opening the surgery door, she turned back to look at Jabril. ‘I’ve never caused you any trouble, have I?’
‘No, my dear,’ he said, sounding nervous.
‘So I understand all the reasons why I shouldn’t get involved, but I think you need to know that this one is hard for me to let go of. This one’s personal. Farahnaz came to me. I didn’t go looking for it and I know Rayi and his family, so I’d like to help.’
Jabril patted down his hair again as he leaned back in his chair. ‘I understand. You must follow your conscience, but I have to warn you that in my opinion conscience can be an untrustworthy emotional master sometimes. Conscience may not always be the wisest choice.’
She nodded. ‘Message received.’
‘I’ll make some enquiries and speak with the politicians again,’ Jabril said. ‘Perhaps now, with these boys going missing, someone might think my campaign against bacha bazi has its merits. They might even want to pressure the police into taking their disappearance seriously. Oh, and how was your meeting with the man from the UN, my dear?’
‘Good.’
‘What did he want?’
Sofia thought about their meeting and shrugged. ‘What he said he wanted: to talk with me about the women I work with. Oh, and I’d like to introduce you so you can talk with him about health issues in general in Afghanistan. Would that be okay?’
‘Of course.’
Back in her surgery, Sofia rang Taban, who said she’d already heard about Rayi’s disappearance but had no further information. ‘Bad news has better reception here in Jamal Mina than our phones, it seems,’ she added. ‘I have no idea how many more little boys need to disappear before anyone takes notice.’
‘We’ve got to get the police involved.’
‘Of course, but how?’ Sofia didn’t have an answer. ‘What about your friend, the chief?’
‘We asked him when the first boys went missing. We’ll ask him again.’ Taban’s silence on the end of the phone gave Sofia all the answer she needed regarding her thoughts on that.
As Sofia began preparing her notes on midwifery for her talk to Zahra’s women’s group, she couldn’t help thinking what a waste of time it was. It would be a nice talk that they’d probably remember for a week, or maybe less.
Losing her enthusiasm for the subject, Sofia stopped typing and sat back in her chair. It was going to be a waste of her time and theirs. She thought about the events from that morning and deleted the document she’d been working on and started a new one. She was about to pick a fight.
15
AFTER HER LAST patient had left for the day, Sofia was packing up when Iman wandered in to flop down in one of the seats on the opposite side of her desk. She wanted to know how Sofia’s talk had gone.
‘Not too good.’
‘Well, what did you expect?’ Iman said, examining the cuffs of her shirt.
Iman generally dismissed Zahra’s friends as the trophy wives of powerful warlords, politicians and rich businessmen. ‘I told you they wouldn’t be interested in the village women. They’ve all conveniently forgotten that their mothers used to be village women and that they’d all still be village women if they hadn’t sold themselves off to the highest bidder. All they do is talk, talk, talk. They never do anything good.’
Sofia sat back in her chair. ‘That’s just not true, Iman, and you know it. Some of them are politicians themselves and members of powerful NGOs. They don’t owe their status to their husbands. They’re vocal and they fight for women’s rights in this country. I think they should be admired.’
‘I suppose,’ Iman said, giving Sofia a petulant look.
She decided Iman was in a bad mood. ‘I was thinking about our chat this morning. I don’t think you should be so hard on the women of Afghanistan. All those gutsy Afghan women of the seventies and eighties haven’t just disappeared, you know. They’re still around and they’ve had daughters like you and your friends. What about Zahra and your mother and their friends? They’re strong and outspoken women. What about the Afghan Women’s Network? They get out on the streets and demonstrate and they’re telling the world that Afghan women aren’t going to disappear back into their homes ever again. There’s much to admire in those women.’
‘I guess.’ Iman shrugged. ‘Until the Taliban come back.’
Sofia decided to ignore the Taliban remark but wondered whether she should go further. It saddened her that Iman wasn’t proud of her fellow women and what they’d achieved, but like all young people she was impatient and nothing happened quickly enough. ‘Your fight for equality here has been far more difficult than it’s been for women in the West, where, by the way, women still haven’t got all the equality they want. If we’re still finding it hard to emancipate in the West, what makes you think Afghan women should be any further along that path? I meet amazing women here all the time: in the villages and in my surgery and in Jamal Mina every day. They mightn’t always be out there on the streets protesting like you want, or walking around without their hair covered, and they mightn’t be particularly vocal, but they’re doing what they can in their own homes and communities. The strength and tenacity of these women humbles me every single day, Iman. You have a lot to be proud of.’
‘That’s what my mum says. I just wish they’d speak out more. They don’t stand up for themselves enough.’
‘It’s not always as easy for others as it is for you here in Kabul, and with the parents you have, but things are changing. Women can protest on the streets now when they couldn’t before, and that’s because of these women who came before you. Remember the protest back in 2009 against the new laws governing Shia women that sanctioned rape in marriage and marriage to underage girls? How gutsy and brave were those women to come out in the streets and continue to demonstrate when they were spat on and stoned?’
‘My mother was part of that,’ Iman said with evident pride.
‘See? And so was Zahra, and yes, I agree that there’s still a long way to go, but please don’t put Afghan women down because they’re not so visible as you.’