Rather than being put off by her lack of enthusiasm, he appeared to become surer of his footing. She was trying to underplay her work; he was refusing to let her, she thought, wondering which of her friends he had been talking to. ‘I usually work one day a fortnight in Jamal Mina, which, as I’m sure you know, is one of the biggest slums in Kabul. And yes, I train midwives in various places around the country, which was something I started back in the mountain villages, thanks to you.’
‘I remember, and I’m glad you continued with that.’
‘All I do is turn up and provide the technical knowhow. It’s the women who do all the hard work.’ He wasn’t reacting to anything she was saying, which made her suspect he probably knew all this already. ‘Someone has to set these groups up and find the women to be trained, and that can be really difficult. Each of the women probably needs to get permission from her husband or father or some other male in the family, and they need to make the commitment to turn up one day every month in between all their other responsibilities. If that isn’t difficult enough, each woman needs a male relative willing and able to escort her to the meetings and wait to take her home again at the end of each day. When that’s all in place then I turn up. My job’s the easy part. But how do you know all this about me?’
‘Is there a problem?’
You betcha there’s a problem, Sofia thought. ‘There might be.’ Sofia went to move her laptop again before returning her hands to her lap. ‘It’s important to keep my work with the village women under the radar, especially in a place like Kandahar, where I’ve been working lately. If the Taliban found out a Western woman was training them it could be really dangerous. So yes, there’s a problem.’
‘And danger for you.’
She shrugged. ‘Danger for everyone. I need to know who told you.’
‘A friend who works with MSF. I’m afraid I can’t tell you how she knew.’
Sofia sat back, considering this. Only the previous week she’d accepted what she’d known for a while: she had to stop the midwifery training with her Kandahar group. With the upsurge in Taliban control in the region it had become particularly dangerous for her to travel there, and while she could choose to put her own life in danger, she had no right to put Tawfiq and Rashid’s lives in danger. She realised now that she should never have taken on the group in the first place but she hated to say no to requests where there was a great need, and Fatima, the woman from Kandahar who coordinated the group, had convinced her of the need. Sofia was planning to return one last time to tell them of her decision, and to deliver boxes of medical supplies she had collected for the group, which was beginning to feel like a Judas kiss: an apology for her betrayal. Jabril and Zahra had been adamant that she didn’t need to return in person to tell them but she did. The women had shown such dedication and had sacrificed so much to learn from her that they deserved at least a personal apology and an explanation.
‘It probably doesn’t matter anymore because my work with the women in Kandahar is about to end. Actually, I’m going there on Friday for the last time to tell them I won’t be finishing their training.’
Daniel sat up in his chair looking genuinely concerned. ‘Can I ask why?’
‘The Taliban.’ Sofia shrugged as if the words were self-explanatory. ‘It’s become too dangerous for us to travel there again, plus the danger is increasing for the women every time they meet with me. I’m still not entirely sure what you want from me.’
‘I’d like to hear what the day-to-day concerns are for the women who visit your surgery and if the UN could address any of those issues for Afghan women. With regard to the midwives,’ he said, ‘I understand it’s probably impossible for me to talk with the women, but would it be possible to talk with the woman who coordinated this group? And, of course, anything you can tell me about what you do in the slums would be great. On top of that, I’d be interested in an overview of what you think needs to be done in Afghanistan.’
Sofia bristled. She hated that question and was surprised he’d even asked. He should have known better. She might be living in Afghanistan but she would always remain an outsider, and as much as it wasn’t her place to say how the people should live, it also wasn’t her place to say how the problems of Afghanistan should be solved, even if she knew, and she didn’t.
‘What I see here are essentially the same problems that are found in any society that doesn’t support its most vulnerable: the lack of a functioning healthcare system, the suppression of over half its population, extraordinary levels of domestic violence and a country that constantly seems to be at war with itself.’
‘You paint a grim picture,’ he said, while nodding in recognition.
‘And what would you want me to paint for you, Daniel?’
He laughed. ‘I wouldn’t have expected anything else from you, Sofia Raso.’
She had no idea what that meant. ‘But you know all this, surely?’
‘I haven’t worked with women like you have and I don’t work on the ground here. You’d really be an invaluable resource.’
It was Sofia’s turn to laugh, releasing the tension in her body. ‘Well, there’s a first. I’ve never been called that before.’
‘Perhaps I could have worded it a little bit better,’ he said, a little embarrassed.
‘Oh, please don’t. I quite fancy being an invaluable resource.’
Sofia glanced
