Sofia guessed Mirwais had been thinking about what he might say to this man from the UN from the moment Taban had told him he was coming, and for a short time he had probably allowed himself to hope. The words would have cost Mirwais dearly. Sometimes their stories broke her heart and she would be disturbed for days, but whenever that happened she reminded herself that she had a home and a bed and enough food on the table. She wasn’t the one suffering. An Afghan friend had pointed out to her once that if she did not appreciate and enjoy what she had then these things were wasted on her. So every night she would give thanks for the roof over her head and the life she had and every month she would return to Jamal Mina and do the best she could. As she waited for Daniel’s response, she knew what it had to be. They all knew except Mirwais.
‘I can see that you’re a man who works hard for his family. If I was here to employ people you would be just the sort of man I would be looking for, but I’m here to see how my organisation might be able to help make life easier for all the people of Jamal Mina.’ Daniel waited for the father to respond but his words had dried up along with his hope.
‘Your input has been invaluable, Mirwais. Thank you,’ Daniel offered lamely.
Sofia could see how it had affected Daniel also, remembering how gentle he had been and how hard he had worked with the villagers in the mountains. She understood what both Mirwais and Daniel were going through – the one who had to beg and the one who had to disappoint – but Daniel had done the right thing. Too many Westerners gave false hope. As hard as it might be, in Sofia’s experience, it was usually better to give no hope than false hope.
‘It never gets any easier,’ Sofia said to Daniel as they left Mirwais’s home.
‘And nor should it,’ he replied.
* * *
THEY VISITED TWO more homes, each sheltering a family whose story was similar: no work, no money, hungry bellies and constant illness. Underlying each story was a visceral sense of despair.
‘In winter your UN has given us plastic sheeting, clothes, blankets and fuel,’ Taban said as they left the last home, heading back to the point where she would leave them to walk up to her clinic, ‘but there’s more needy people than there are blankets to go around. Did you know twenty-eight children died in this neighbourhood from the cold last winter?’
‘I did.’
Taban stopped walking and turned to look up at Daniel. ‘Either you’re lying or you’re exceptionally well informed. Somehow, I think it’s the latter.’ Taban started walking again. ‘I know it’s not a high percentage of attrition for your organisation but it’s twenty-eight tiny souls who should have lived, twenty-eight shattered families.’
‘Do you think this man will do anything?’ Tawfiq whispered to Sofia as they walked behind Taban and Daniel along the rocky path.
‘I hope so.’
‘He should see the villages so he can see what it’s like in the country, not just here in the city.’
‘Somehow I think he already knows what it’s like in the country.’ Sofia stopped in a little cleared area between a few houses to let Daniel and Taban move ahead. Beside them a plastic pipe was coming out of the wall of a house, emptying into a running drain channelling waste downhill. ‘Do you remember when I first came here and you drove me to the village in the foothills of the Hindu Kush so I could go up to the highlands to work?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, Dr Daniel was the man I worked with up there. That’s where I first met him.’
‘Ah,’ Tawfiq said. ‘He’s a good man, I think.’
‘I’ve always thought so.’
‘Why can’t Afghans have good things like everyone else?’ Tawfiq asked as they began walking fast to catch up with Daniel and Taban again.
‘I don’t know, my friend.’
She had that feeling again that things were not right with Tawfiq and decided that she may as well ask him. ‘Is something wrong?’
‘No.’
‘Are you sure? Because if there’s anything I can do, you know you’ve only got to ask.’
‘Thank you, but there’s nothing you can do.’
Hearing someone running up behind them, they all turned to see Aisha, the eldest daughter from the family they had just left.
She was a beautiful child with a tangled mass of rich chestnut curls. On her feet she wore an old pair of scuffed sandals Sofia had not seen before. No doubt hand-me-downs from a family who could no longer find any use for them. Over the dirty pair of pink tracksuit pants she always wore she had a brown and pink dress.
‘I want to go to school and learn how to read,’ she said, as she tried to catch her breath.
Daniel crouched down to Aisha’s level. ‘Don’t you go to school?’
‘No,’ she said, shaking her head.
‘As you saw, Aisha’s family don’t have the money,’ offered Taban in English so Aisha couldn’t understand.
‘I see.’ Daniel looked back at Aisha.
‘Please,’ she said, putting her hands together in supplication. ‘Please.’
‘Aisha, I understand your need and I know what I’m about to say won’t be enough for you,’ Daniel said in Dari, ‘but I promise you I will talk with your government about building a school here in Jamal Mina and I will make sure they see how important it is.’
‘But that will be too late,’
