Dark Chronicles of Nooria 11
Amina continues, "now Tasma, Nilofar, Zohra and Zala, them got different jobs. Shoot you if you make any trouble."
Everyone roars with laughter, including me.
Parvana raises her fist in the air, "enough lollygagging about. Let's go find a dragon to slay."
Cheers and wolfhowls as everyone climbs aboard.
I'm sitting across from Nilofar in the back of Amina's jeep.
"So kid, how you like the school so far?"
"Chow's good, only beat you up thrice a week."
She laughs, "was tougher in my day, beat you up every day, weekend included."
"Sure, and you had to walk 10 miles through the snow, uphill, both ways."
She laughs, ruffles my hair, "gonna join us crazies when you grow up?"
"First choice, French Foreign Legion; second, here."
"Cool, they say them Frenchmen is skilled in the arts of love. Beat heck outa the Afghan men."
We laugh.
"Also, the French them, got real good coffee, real cigarettes, not like the camel poop here. Maybe even buy you a car, maybe even a sports car."
"I'd settle for a motor scooter. Easier to transport, I mean one posting to another. Easier to park, cheaper on gas."
"Which would of course leave more money for the finer things in life. Such as wine, song and whatever you prefer, men or women."
"Think I'm little too young to know bout that stuff."
"Gwan with you. Girl from my village, she was a widow by age 12. Don't believe me, ask her, she's driving the jeep. So, prefer men or women?"
"Neither, me, total loner."
"Sad Nooria, gonna die young. One day, just had enough, kill yourself. Nuff of that, sarge says you had a real vivid dream. Gotta tell us all at break."
Oh no, this never ends.
She ruffles my hair, "anyone who dreams of frying Jews them, awesome person. Maybe when you grow up, join up, maybe be my girlfriend."
"You promise not to stab me?"
She laughs, "once the dope kicks in, promises get forgotten."
"Nuff talk bout dope," Amina hollers from the front, over the noise of motor and wind, "talk educational, she is just a little girl."
Nilofar grins awkwardly, "yeah, always had an ear for accents. Yours is Wakhan Corridor, far end, right near the China border."
I nod.
"Them people got screwed. Bigtime. Learned bout it in school. See they used to range around nomads, maybe quarter their territory in Afghanistan, three-quarters in China. All empty space in China, no Chinese living there. Commies took over, got tough, sealed the border. Is why so few of them people left. And you? How'd you ever get from there to AAW (Association of Afghan Women)?"
Apparently the taboo, not asking bout the past, is kid-to-kid only. Members seem free to ask.
"See there was only my friend and me left alive. This AAW patrol, they found is in a mountain pass. Only they lied. See the Lt in charge of the patrol, when she first met us, yeah admitted there was 2. But then, I was feeling a fever. Saw my friend vanish before my eyes."
"They killed her?"
"No, she just turned into mist, was gone. Then when I woke up in their sick bay, they denied ever seeing her. Said I was mistaken."
Sarge hollers, "how old were you? How old was she?"
"I was 10, her 8."
Sarge replies, "here's my guess. She's not only your friend. You also feel a strong sense of loyalty, of responsibility to her. In fact, is the only thing actually keeps you moving. You just will not give up, lie down and die, or you'd let your friend down. So, she never was there. Only there in your mind. Go back mile or two, she'd be dead already, lying in the snow. Now as of the time you know you are safe, this imaginary friend just vanishes."
"Yeah, could be."
Nilofar smiles, "must be so. Ever see or hear of the members harming the girls."
"No, they's all decent people. You must be right."
They call a halt. As sarge and Lt scan the coastline with binoculars, the others brew tea on a kero stove. That done, we settle in. Nilofar grins, "and now, what we's all dying to hear. The dream."
What choice do I have? I explain.
No question of it, sarge is in an hypnotic state, staring at me. Story ends. Parvana walks over to Amina, waves her hands in front of Amina's eyes. "Lemme guess. Found the girl's story so boring you fell asleep."
Amina blushes, "nah, ain't that at all. She has a way, evokes. It's like you're there, seeing it all. Or more, like being a participant. For some strange reason, I can imagine myself a company commander in that."
Nilofar guffaws, "not you, you don't like officers them. Oh, but I don't mean you Parvana, you're ok. I mean the rest of them."
Faraway look, Amina quietly says, "I can feel the Schmeisser kick in my hands. Taste the cigarette, the coffee. Smell the blood, the gunpowder. She is one hypnotic story teller."
I protest, "but a company commander wouldn't carry a submachine gun. Maybe only use one from time to time. Carry a pistol only, must act the part."
Amina retorts, "a good officer, would use a Schmeisser lots. Set an example for the men. Show he's willing to get his hands dirty too."
This is hitting a way too close to home. In the dream I recall Lt Boppert using a Schmeisser lots, way more than he should. Sadism?
Amina continues, "one thing you didn't say. Tell us now. At Jozefow they made the mistake of facing each victim while shooting. Proved too psychologically difficult. Changed technique over time, shot in back of neck."
"Ye-ah I remember that from the dream. Couldn't say all or we'd be here all day."
"Them Schmeissers," Amina asserts, "best weapon in the world, sweet, well-machined, precise. Ran circles round anything the Allies had."
And now everyone is looking strange at Amina. Belatedly she becomes aware of this, "told you, she has a way. Tells a story, feels like you're there."
Parvana gives a goofy grin, "pure envy, what it is. Wish it was you had a fabulous dream like that. Well let's roll. Any luck, we see a unicorn today. Yeah, so I'm nuts. We all are."
Everyone laughs as we board.
Rest of the morning we roll through unbelievable country. Craggy, dark, almost satanic. So ugly it's beautiful. If the space program were ever looking for a spot to practise moon landings, here would be good.
The wind howls louder. Nilofar gives up on conversation, just too hard. We stop for lunch and observation near a stupendous cliff, magnificent ocean view.
Gently Amina says, "Nooria, every minute we're here, you stay within 2 feet of me."
I nod.
Amina has one hand on the binoculars, other arm hugging me, takes no chances.
No conversation at lunch, wind is too loud. Then again we're rolling. And now I feel something different, something I don't recall feeling before. Yeah, fresh air, comradeship, fabulous view, good chow. It actuall - gasp - feels good to be alive.
We arrive back, park the jeeps in the motor pool, head for the members mess.
Arifa just grins, "ah ha Amina, see you converted her. Doesn't she look alive? Face glows?"
Amina ruffles my hair, "she was a good girl, well-behaved. Yep, she can come again. Rather have her along on that run. Terrifying being 2,000 feet up and realizing the driver has smoked up too much."
"Where'd we go astray? I mean, all of AAW?"
Amina smiles awkwardly, "history. Little backwater forever, but fun-loving. Taliban came to power, suddenly our HQ in Pak got a lot more aid money, more foreign visitors. 9/11 and aftermath, peak of our influence. Then back to a backwater. But now, everyone is depressed. Is like you owned the whole Roman Empire and now only have the city left."
"Heard lotta theories. Good as I've heard."
"Now the officer corps, them too, demoralized. Remember the days when every journalist from Toledo to Timbuctoo to Tasmania wanted an interview. Need new blood, like our little friend Nooria. One day, she'll be a CO, signs of it all over her."
"So Parvana agrees? She can go again?"
"Heavens yes, she can come a day every week."
Arifa asks, "so Nooria, have fun today? Wanna go back?"
"Yes, wouldn't wanna miss out."
We sit a long time after supper. Feels nice, the company of the sgt's.
Arifa says gently, "soon be lights out. Better move. Proud of you. Did good today."
Everyone roars with laughter, including me.
Parvana raises her fist in the air, "enough lollygagging about. Let's go find a dragon to slay."
Cheers and wolfhowls as everyone climbs aboard.
I'm sitting across from Nilofar in the back of Amina's jeep.
"So kid, how you like the school so far?"
"Chow's good, only beat you up thrice a week."
She laughs, "was tougher in my day, beat you up every day, weekend included."
"Sure, and you had to walk 10 miles through the snow, uphill, both ways."
She laughs, ruffles my hair, "gonna join us crazies when you grow up?"
"First choice, French Foreign Legion; second, here."
"Cool, they say them Frenchmen is skilled in the arts of love. Beat heck outa the Afghan men."
We laugh.
"Also, the French them, got real good coffee, real cigarettes, not like the camel poop here. Maybe even buy you a car, maybe even a sports car."
"I'd settle for a motor scooter. Easier to transport, I mean one posting to another. Easier to park, cheaper on gas."
"Which would of course leave more money for the finer things in life. Such as wine, song and whatever you prefer, men or women."
"Think I'm little too young to know bout that stuff."
"Gwan with you. Girl from my village, she was a widow by age 12. Don't believe me, ask her, she's driving the jeep. So, prefer men or women?"
"Neither, me, total loner."
"Sad Nooria, gonna die young. One day, just had enough, kill yourself. Nuff of that, sarge says you had a real vivid dream. Gotta tell us all at break."
Oh no, this never ends.
She ruffles my hair, "anyone who dreams of frying Jews them, awesome person. Maybe when you grow up, join up, maybe be my girlfriend."
"You promise not to stab me?"
She laughs, "once the dope kicks in, promises get forgotten."
"Nuff talk bout dope," Amina hollers from the front, over the noise of motor and wind, "talk educational, she is just a little girl."
Nilofar grins awkwardly, "yeah, always had an ear for accents. Yours is Wakhan Corridor, far end, right near the China border."
I nod.
"Them people got screwed. Bigtime. Learned bout it in school. See they used to range around nomads, maybe quarter their territory in Afghanistan, three-quarters in China. All empty space in China, no Chinese living there. Commies took over, got tough, sealed the border. Is why so few of them people left. And you? How'd you ever get from there to AAW (Association of Afghan Women)?"
Apparently the taboo, not asking bout the past, is kid-to-kid only. Members seem free to ask.
"See there was only my friend and me left alive. This AAW patrol, they found is in a mountain pass. Only they lied. See the Lt in charge of the patrol, when she first met us, yeah admitted there was 2. But then, I was feeling a fever. Saw my friend vanish before my eyes."
"They killed her?"
"No, she just turned into mist, was gone. Then when I woke up in their sick bay, they denied ever seeing her. Said I was mistaken."
Sarge hollers, "how old were you? How old was she?"
"I was 10, her 8."
Sarge replies, "here's my guess. She's not only your friend. You also feel a strong sense of loyalty, of responsibility to her. In fact, is the only thing actually keeps you moving. You just will not give up, lie down and die, or you'd let your friend down. So, she never was there. Only there in your mind. Go back mile or two, she'd be dead already, lying in the snow. Now as of the time you know you are safe, this imaginary friend just vanishes."
"Yeah, could be."
Nilofar smiles, "must be so. Ever see or hear of the members harming the girls."
"No, they's all decent people. You must be right."
They call a halt. As sarge and Lt scan the coastline with binoculars, the others brew tea on a kero stove. That done, we settle in. Nilofar grins, "and now, what we's all dying to hear. The dream."
What choice do I have? I explain.
No question of it, sarge is in an hypnotic state, staring at me. Story ends. Parvana walks over to Amina, waves her hands in front of Amina's eyes. "Lemme guess. Found the girl's story so boring you fell asleep."
Amina blushes, "nah, ain't that at all. She has a way, evokes. It's like you're there, seeing it all. Or more, like being a participant. For some strange reason, I can imagine myself a company commander in that."
Nilofar guffaws, "not you, you don't like officers them. Oh, but I don't mean you Parvana, you're ok. I mean the rest of them."
Faraway look, Amina quietly says, "I can feel the Schmeisser kick in my hands. Taste the cigarette, the coffee. Smell the blood, the gunpowder. She is one hypnotic story teller."
I protest, "but a company commander wouldn't carry a submachine gun. Maybe only use one from time to time. Carry a pistol only, must act the part."
Amina retorts, "a good officer, would use a Schmeisser lots. Set an example for the men. Show he's willing to get his hands dirty too."
This is hitting a way too close to home. In the dream I recall Lt Boppert using a Schmeisser lots, way more than he should. Sadism?
Amina continues, "one thing you didn't say. Tell us now. At Jozefow they made the mistake of facing each victim while shooting. Proved too psychologically difficult. Changed technique over time, shot in back of neck."
"Ye-ah I remember that from the dream. Couldn't say all or we'd be here all day."
"Them Schmeissers," Amina asserts, "best weapon in the world, sweet, well-machined, precise. Ran circles round anything the Allies had."
And now everyone is looking strange at Amina. Belatedly she becomes aware of this, "told you, she has a way. Tells a story, feels like you're there."
Parvana gives a goofy grin, "pure envy, what it is. Wish it was you had a fabulous dream like that. Well let's roll. Any luck, we see a unicorn today. Yeah, so I'm nuts. We all are."
Everyone laughs as we board.
Rest of the morning we roll through unbelievable country. Craggy, dark, almost satanic. So ugly it's beautiful. If the space program were ever looking for a spot to practise moon landings, here would be good.
The wind howls louder. Nilofar gives up on conversation, just too hard. We stop for lunch and observation near a stupendous cliff, magnificent ocean view.
Gently Amina says, "Nooria, every minute we're here, you stay within 2 feet of me."
I nod.
Amina has one hand on the binoculars, other arm hugging me, takes no chances.
No conversation at lunch, wind is too loud. Then again we're rolling. And now I feel something different, something I don't recall feeling before. Yeah, fresh air, comradeship, fabulous view, good chow. It actuall - gasp - feels good to be alive.
We arrive back, park the jeeps in the motor pool, head for the members mess.
Arifa just grins, "ah ha Amina, see you converted her. Doesn't she look alive? Face glows?"
Amina ruffles my hair, "she was a good girl, well-behaved. Yep, she can come again. Rather have her along on that run. Terrifying being 2,000 feet up and realizing the driver has smoked up too much."
"Where'd we go astray? I mean, all of AAW?"
Amina smiles awkwardly, "history. Little backwater forever, but fun-loving. Taliban came to power, suddenly our HQ in Pak got a lot more aid money, more foreign visitors. 9/11 and aftermath, peak of our influence. Then back to a backwater. But now, everyone is depressed. Is like you owned the whole Roman Empire and now only have the city left."
"Heard lotta theories. Good as I've heard."
"Now the officer corps, them too, demoralized. Remember the days when every journalist from Toledo to Timbuctoo to Tasmania wanted an interview. Need new blood, like our little friend Nooria. One day, she'll be a CO, signs of it all over her."
"So Parvana agrees? She can go again?"
"Heavens yes, she can come a day every week."
Arifa asks, "so Nooria, have fun today? Wanna go back?"
"Yes, wouldn't wanna miss out."
We sit a long time after supper. Feels nice, the company of the sgt's.
Arifa says gently, "soon be lights out. Better move. Proud of you. Did good today."
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