‘Have you finished?’ she asked as she stood over Tawfiq, who was having lunch.
He looked at the shapeless coat through the smoke haze in the chaikhana before looking to Rashid, who had followed Sofia in.
‘Yes,’ he said hesitantly, aware that Sofia only ever wore the coat when they were travelling in the more remote or dangerous parts of Afghanistan.
‘I’d like you come with me.’
Tawfiq looked over to Rashid again and then back to Sofia. ‘Do we need the car?’ he asked, stubbing out his cigarette as he rose from the cushion on the timber platform.
‘No.’
Babur, who had seen Sofia walk in wearing the long coat and her hair tucked away under her scarf, knew something was wrong and came over to them, the glass and tea towel he had been using still in his hand. ‘Is something wrong, Dr Sofia?’
‘No, nothing. Come on, Tawfiq,’ she said, walking out.
‘Should Rashid come too?’ Tawfiq asked cautiously, as he followed her.
They stood in front of the chaikhana, Babur inside watching them. ‘Maybe … I don’t know.’ She wondered whether they should take Rashid for security before deciding it was better not to arouse any more suspicion in the square, or scare this Afzal off with her gun-toting former soldier turned security guard. She looked at Rashid. ‘We’ll be fine, my friend. No need to come with us.’
‘I have to.’
Sofia looked into Rashid’s eyes and spoke very calmly and clearly so there could be no mistaking her meaning. ‘We’re only going to the bird market, Rashid, not too far away. This one time I need you to stay here. Do you understand what I’m saying?’
She watched him and Tawfiq exchange glances again. She had no idea what messages were being exchanged between them. She could also see the conflict in Rashid. This was a horrible thing to do to him. She repeated, ‘I need you to stay here this one time. We’ll be fine. I promise.’ Rashid nodded. If he had insisted she would have taken him, but she believed it would be better for everyone if it was just her and Tawfiq.
‘Why are we going to the bird market?’ Tawfiq asked as they headed off.
‘To find a man called Afzal who lives above a tailor shop.’
Tawfiq frowned. ‘There aren’t any tailors in the bird market.’
‘Apparently there are.’
‘I don’t understand. Why do we have to find this man?’
Sofia stopped and looked at him, just as she had looked at Rashid. She needed him to understand the importance of what they were about to do and she didn’t need any more questions. ‘He might know where we can find some missing boys.’ She gave Tawfiq time to consider this. ‘You’ve heard about these missing boys from Jamal Mina?’
‘I might have.’
Stood to reason, she thought. Nothing was secret in the square for long.
‘Wait!’ Sofia turned to see Iman hurrying toward them. Pointing down the passageway that led out of the square, she asked Tawfiq to wait for her at the end of it.
‘Where are you going?’ Iman cried, catching her breath.
‘Please don’t tell anyone about the visa,’ Sofia said. When Iman didn’t respond she put her hands on the young woman’s shoulders, feeling the blood pumping through her fine young skin. ‘I need to sort it out and I don’t need people in the square to know or to worry about me for nothing. Please?’
‘Okay, I’ll try,’ Iman said, not happy with this.
‘No, Iman,’ she squeezed her shoulders. ‘You have to do better than try. You need to promise me you won’t tell anyone. Do you understand?’
‘Okay, but where are you going and why are you wearing that?’ she said, looking down at Sofia’s coat with distaste.
‘I’m going to the bird market.’
Iman was confused. ‘To fix your visa?’
‘No, it’s a long story,’ Sofia said. ‘If I’m not back in time for my next patient, please tell her I was called out on an emergency and ask if she could wait or reschedule.’
‘I don’t understand anything,’ Iman said, her shoulders slumping under Sofia’s hands. ‘What’s going on?’
‘There is nothing to worry about. So nothing about the visa to anyone, okay?’
When Iman nodded, Sofia gave her shoulders another squeeze before hurrying off to where Tawfiq was waiting for her.
As they made their way through the crowded maze of backstreets and alleyways of the old city, a man pedalled furiously past them on a bicycle with two passengers clinging on precariously. A small three-wheeled yellow car was overtaking him while threatening to wipe out a man pushing a barrow laden with oranges. After passing the blue-domed Pul-e Khishti Mosque Sofia saw every day from her surgery window, they entered the crowded bird market to be assailed by its distinctively musty smell. They stopped.
Colourful metal birdcages and the more traditional domed cages made of cane were hanging from hooks overhead on the walls of the tiny mud and timber buildings and stacked high on top of each other in front of the shops. Bright plastic feeder trays and water bottles were displayed on walls and dusty old timber benches alongside small sacks full of every type of bird feed imaginable. The tiny street and the even smaller alleyways running off it were so crowded that Sofia couldn’t see more than a few metres in front of her. Despite the dip in the economy, it looked to her that at least the bird trade was still thriving.
With one of the world’s largest migratory paths passing over Afghanistan, birds were caught in the wild, bred in captivity or shipped in from places like Pakistan and Iran. Some of the more exotic species had their own cage, but many more were crowded into larger wire cages. Canaries, finches, larks, pigeons, tiny parrots, the local chukar partridge and, of course, chickens and quails for the table could all be found in the bird market. There were also the prized fighting cocks. Afghans loved their birds.
Sofia looked down at her feet where a
