Kiss the Dust Read online

  ‘We have been rather busy this evening,’ said Teriska Khan apologetically. ‘You see . . .’

  Tara suddenly collapsed into giggles.

  ‘Busy?’ she spluttered, feeling almost hysterical with relief. ‘Busy? Yes, I suppose you could call it that. You could say we’ve been busy!’

  4

  Tara always felt awful first thing in the morning. She was sleepy and snappy, and she couldn’t usually face talking to anyone until she’d washed her face and drunk several glasses of hot sweet tea from the samovar in the kitchen.

  But today was different. She’d woken up with a funny feeling in the pit of her stomach, a sort of excitement with a nasty kick of terror in it. Then she’d rolled over and seen the humped shape in the bed by the window that Hero usually occupied. Of course! Granny was here!

  She jumped out of bed as yesterday came flooding back. In record time she’d washed and got dressed. She’d brushed her long, soft curly hair and pinned it back with her favourite pink hair slides, and she was in the kitchen ready for breakfast.

  Uncle Rostam was sitting on the rug at the far end of the room by the window, leaning against a cushion. Beside him, mixed up with the ordinary jumble of breakfast things, was his revolver. It looked all wrong there, like a poisonous snake in a bouquet of flowers. His cartridge belt was on the floor too, the bullets almost sticking into the butter. He’d taken off the sling which Teriska Khan had made for his wounded arm. He obviously couldn’t be bothered with it.

  Ashti was sitting on the floor beside him. He seemed to have forgotten all about his breakfast. He was listening so hard to Rostam he wouldn’t have noticed if the house was on fire. His thick dark hair, which he was usually rather vain about and brushed carefully into place before he appeared in the morning, was flopping uncombed over his forehead.

  ‘Go on, uncle,’ he was saying. ‘What did you do next?’

  Rostam held his tea glass delicately between his thumb and forefinger, and noisily sucked in a hot sweet mouthful. Then he put the glass down and wiped his long drooping moustache with the back of his hand. Neither of them noticed Tara. She helped herself to a piece of bread and a glass of tea and slid down beside her brother.

  ‘We ambushed them of course,’ said Rostam.

  ‘How?’

  ‘Oh, it was easy.’ Rostam picked up his revolver and squinted down the barrel. ‘That stretch of road was perfect for a surprise attack. There were ten of us strung out along the top of the cliff, and a few more in a cleft of the rock on the corner where the road zigzags down the mountainside. When the first five army trucks had gone past we let them have it. Pow! We took them completely by surprise.’

  Tara remembered the boy in front of the mosque and shivered. Rostam didn’t notice. He was absorbed in his story.

  ‘The ones at the end of the convoy started backing away down the road, revving up like crazy. The ones in front tried to race on and get out of it, but our lot were waiting for them at the next corner.’

  ‘Did you blow up the trucks?’

  ‘Of course not! We needed them, and anyway, they were full of supplies for the army garrisons. You should have seen the stuff they had! Tins of oil, and sacks of flour, and sugar and fresh vegetables, coffee, cigarettes – we couldn’t believe it! We’d been short of food for weeks.’

  ‘What about the soldiers?’ asked Tara shyly. ‘What did you do to them?’

  ‘Four or five got hit in the first attack. They were past helping. The others didn’t put up much of a fight.’ Rostam chuckled. ‘You could tell their hearts weren’t in it. They didn’t stand a chance against us pesh murgas on our own ground, and they knew it. We didn’t want to take any prisoners. They’re a nuisance. You’ve got to feed them, and we haven’t got enough food for ourselves. So we took their weapons, patted them on the head, and told them to run home to their mummies and not to come back to the mountains again or the nasty Kurds might eat them. They ran all right! Bolted off like horses! It must have taken them days to get home.’

  ‘Tara!’ Tara jumped. Teriska Khan was standing in the kitchen doorway. She sounded cross.

  ‘What’s the matter, Daya?’ Tara said, surprised.

  Teriska Khan fussed round the breakfast things, picking up empty plates and sweeping up the crumbs.

  ‘You’ll be late for school,’ she said at last. ‘Go and get your books. Leila’s probably wondering where on earth you are. As for you –’ She looked at Ashti.

  Ashti wasn’t listening. He had gingerly picked up Rostam’s revolver and was testing the feel of it in his hand. Tara saw Teriska Khan frown, and her eyes darted across to meet Rostam’s. Tara had a funny feeling that there was some kind of battle going on between them. She didn’t dare stay to see who’d win. With her mother in this mood, there was only one thing to do. Obey – at once.

  Leila was waiting by her own garden gate. She’d done her hair in a new way, combed straight back from her forehead and tied at the back with a plastic butterfly clip. It made her look at least two years older.

  Tara didn’t even see it. Anyway, it seemed like a year at least since yesterday, when she’d gone to school with Leila on what had seemed like just another ordinary day. Yesterday she’d have noticed Leila’s hair at once. Today she was too busy worrying about all the awful secrets she had to keep. She was scared that Leila might see something in her face. It was a horrible feeling. She and Leila had always told each other things.

  She rushed into the story she’d agreed on with her parents.

  ‘My granny’s come to stay. And my father’s cousin. Baba brought them both in the car from Baghdad last night.’

  Luckily, Leila didn’t seem particularly interested.

  ‘Did you tell them about what happened yesterday, with the boy, and the mullah, and everything?’ she asked eagerly. ‘What did they say?’

  ‘Nothing much,’ Tara said. She didn’t want to talk about the boy. She still felt shaky every time the image of him flashed back into her mind. There was no point in discussing it with Leila. She obviously didn’t feel the same. Tara tried to think of some way of changing the subject, but she wasn’t quick enough.

  ‘Wasn’t it awful, though?’ Leila went on, not noticing the look on Tara’s face. ‘I nearly died of fright! I’ll never forget it. I couldn’t sleep a wink all night. My father says . . .’

  Tara suddenly felt like boiling over.

  ‘I don’t want to know what your dad says!’ she blurted out. ‘What does he know about it? He’s an Arab, isn’t he, just like that officer!’

  Leila stopped dead on the edge of the road. The two of them had turned out of their street now on to the main road, where the unpaved verge was narrow, and the traffic came uncomfortably close. Leila stepped back.

  ‘What on earth do you mean?’ she said. Two bright spots burned in her cheeks. ‘Are you telling me you think my father’s like that man?’

  Tara had stopped too. She and Leila were glaring at each other.

  ‘Well he’s an Arab isn’t he? Why should he care? What’s it to do with him that we can’t live freely in our own country?’

  Now Leila was shaking with fury too.

  ‘So that’s what you think of me is it? That’s the kind of friend you are! Well, let me tell you, Tara Hawrami, what my father did say. He said that the shooting was a disgrace, and this government are nothing but a bunch of bandits, and he can’t understand why the Kurds don’t have the right to organize things for themselves same as everyone else. But that’s not good enough for you, is it? You think . . .’

  ‘Leila! Look out!’

  Tara dived towards Leila and in the nick of time dragged her off the road. A truck had appeared as if from nowhere, careering wildly towards them, and it had almost swept Leila under its wheels. It shot past with a shriek of its horn.

  ‘Thanks,’ said Leila sarcastically, pulling her arm out of Tara’s grasp. She began to walk on quickly towards the school which was now only a few hundred yards away.

 
Tara ran to catch her up.

  ‘Leila, wait, listen. I must have been mad! I didn’t mean . . .’

  ‘Didn’t you?’

  ‘No – I didn’t mean you. Honestly. I just suddenly felt so angry and upset.’

  There were groups of girls all round them now, walking in through the school gates. In a minute they’d be surrounded by the others. It was their last chance to say anything privately.

  ‘Look, Tara,’ said Leila in a trembling voice. ‘Don’t ever say things like that to me again! Lots of Arabs hate this government and this war as much as Kurds do. My father . . .’

  She stopped, and Tara suddenly recognized the look in her eyes. So Leila had family secrets too that she was trying hard to keep! Tara felt she’d been a complete fool. She chuckled unsteadily.

  ‘My granny’s always saying that a Kurd has no friends,’ she said. ‘She’s wrong about me, though. I’m really sorry, Leila. See you after school.’ And she ran up the steps towards her classroom.

  Usually, the family ate together at lunchtime. School and office hours began early in the morning and ended early in the afternoon, and Teriska Khan liked to wait until everyone had got home before she dished up the lunch. But today she didn’t seem as keen as usual for everyone to eat together.

  ‘Your father’s going to be back late from the office today,’ she said to Tara, turning the heat down under the pot of rice that was cooking on the stove. ‘Your uncle will eat with him. The rest of us can have ours now. Call Ashti and Granny, will you?’

  The family sitting room was next to the kitchen. Tara opened the door. At the nearest end of the long room, Granny was playing with Hero on the big silk Persian rug.

  ‘Tara!’ Hero jumped up. ‘Look! I got a new dress! Granny got me a new dress!’ She turned round to show herself off, and she looked so funny, all done up in a froth of white and lemon frills that Tara laughed.

  ‘Daya says lunch is ready,’ she said.

  She looked down to the far end of the room. Ashti and Uncle Rostam were sitting next to each other on a couple of the dark blue velvet chairs that lined the pale blue walls. Rostam looked uncomfortable. He was used to sitting on a hard floor, not on a soft chair, and anyway his arm was obviously hurting. Ashti was leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, his chin propped in his hands. He was just as wrapped up in what Rostam was saying as he had been hours ago at breakfast time.

  ‘Come and have lunch, Ashti,’ Tara called down the room to him. ‘Uncle, Daya says you’ll want to eat later, with Baba.’

  Ashti looked round quickly, then turned his back on Tara.

  ‘I’ll eat later too,’ he said.

  Back in the kitchen, fragrant wisps of steam were rising from the lamb pilau. Tara felt hungry. She sat down.

  ‘Where’s Ashti?’ said Teriska Khan.

  ‘He says he’ll eat later with Baba and Uncle Rostam.’

  ‘Oh, he will, will he?’ Tara couldn’t understand why Daya seemed so annoyed. Then she saw that Granny was shaking her head at Teriska Khan.

  ‘You can’t stop him,’ she said. ‘Ashti’s eighteen. He’s a man now. If he wants to, he’ll do it. There’s nothing you can do to stop him.’

  What are they fussing about? thought Tara. What does it matter if Ashti eats with them or with us? Then she forgot about her brother, and helped herself to another spoonful of pilau.

  In the end, Ashti and Rostam ate alone. Kak Soran didn’t come home till hours later. Tara was lying on the floor beside the big table in the sitting room, reading a film magazine, when all the men came into the room together. They didn’t see her.

  ‘I’ve managed to get in touch with several of our people,’ Kak Soran was saying. ‘They know you’re here, Rostam, and not too badly wounded. They’re expecting you tonight, at the usual place. And I told you about the supplies. I set all that up last week. They said they reckoned they could still get everything through.’

  ‘Baba!’ Ashti sounded excited. ‘I thought you’d stopped being involved in politics last year, when you had that warning the secret police were after you!’

  ‘Yes, well,’ Kak Soran said, and Tara could hear from his voice that he was smiling. ‘You were only a kid then. That’s what you were supposed to think. But you might as well know now that I’ve never stopped working with the pesh murgas. They need city men, respectable, educated, serious men like me, just as much as they need crazy idiots like this bandit Rostam.’

  Tara thought Rostam would be offended, but he didn’t sound it at all.

  ‘It’s true, we do need back-up people like you,’ he said, ‘but we need more fighters too. It’s getting really bad up there in the mountains. We’ve had far too many casualties. They’re stepping up the action all the time, bombing the villages, shooting anyone they catch – in the last raid on our base alone they got seventeen of us! We need more fighters, young men to train . . .’

  The door opened. Tara peeped round the legs of the table. Teriska Khan had come in.

  ‘Is Tara here?’ she said.

  Tara felt herself blush. It was awful to be caught eavesdropping, especially when you hadn’t really meant to in the first place. But before she had the chance to come out from behind the table, Teriska Khan burst out angrily, ‘You’ve been talking about Ashti, haven’t you? I’m not completely blind, you know. I can see he’s dying to go off and join the pesh murgas, like all the rest of them. But I won’t have it, Soran. You’ll have to put your foot down. I mean, what about his place at the university? He’s got his education to think about.’

  Tara couldn’t see Kak Soran’s face, but she was longing to peep out and have a look. Teriska Khan never, never talked to him like that, especially not in front of other people. She must be really upset to speak out so strongly. Tara waited for Baba to let fly. But when he did speak, it was in a patient, resigned voice that was even more infuriating than an angry one.

  ‘Calm down, Teriska,’ he said. ‘You’ve got to face up to it. Ashti’s call-up papers will come any day now. You don’t get exemption by being a student any more so he can’t go to university anyway. He’s got to make a decision. He’ll either get drafted into the army, and then he’ll be sent off to the front to fight the Iranians, or he can go back to the mountains with Rostam and join the pesh murgas. It’s got to be one or the other. You surely don’t want him to get sent to the front? At least with the pesh murgas he’ll be fighting for a good cause, with his own people.’

  Tara forgot all about being embarrassed. Before she had time to think she wriggled out from under the table.

  ‘I would,’ she said, more loudly than she’d intended to. Everyone jumped.

  ‘What were you doing under that table?’ said Kak Soran, looking angry.

  ‘I’m sorry, Baba,’ said Tara. ‘I was reading.’ She held up her magazine.

  ‘What do you mean, “I would”?’ said Ashti eagerly. ‘You would what?’

  ‘I’d join the pesh murgas rather than the army, any day,’ said Tara, blushing hotly. She wasn’t used to expressing an opinion in front of the men of the family.

  Rostam threw back his head and laughed, in a ringing voice that was better suited to empty mountainsides than an enclosed sitting room.

  ‘Good for you, Tara!’ he said. ‘What a pity you’re not a boy! I’d have you in my company like a shot.’

  He saw Teriska Khan glare at him, and put up his hands to ward her off.

  ‘Sorry, sorry,’ he said. ‘Only joking. After all, she’s not a boy, is she?’

  5

  In the next few weeks life seemed to get back to normal for a while, on the surface anyway. But it wasn’t really normal at all. At least, it wasn’t like it had been before the boy had been shot and Rostam had come. Tara wondered how on earth she could have been so blind for so long. Nothing seemed the same any more. It was as if she’d been wearing dark glasses all her life, and had suddenly taken them off.

  She’d patched things up with Leila, in fact she felt even more fond of he
r than she had done before, though they both knew there were things between them now that they didn’t dare talk about. But even though they were still good friends, they didn’t want to go on doing the things they’d always done together. It wasn’t much fun looking round the shops any more. It brought back too many memories. And in the evenings, when they were doing their homework, even the sound of a dog barking or a car door banging would make them jump and look at each other awkwardly.

  Teriska Khan seemed different too. She was often in a bad mood these days. Tara knew she was worried about Ashti. He’d slipped away in the night with Uncle Rostam. He’d looked so happy and excited, with his suitcase in his hand and his coat slung over his shoulder, that she’d felt a funny kind of jealousy. She missed him of course, but she still couldn’t help feeling angry with him. He hadn’t seemed to care that Daya was crying, and Granny was nursing her cheek in her hand the way she always did when she was upset. All he could think of was the adventures he was going to have, of the fighting, the ambushes, the tough night journeys, of becoming one of the hard men of the mountains.

  To take her mind off everything, Tara tried to plunge into her schoolwork. It wasn’t easy. Teriska Khan had always been only too keen to make sure she had time for homework. She’d always taken an interest in her marks and encouraged her to study hard. Now, suddenly, schoolwork didn’t seem to matter any more. Even though the end of the year exams were looming, Teriska Khan kept telling Tara to shut her books and help Granny get the supper ready, or keep Hero amused, while she got on with a whole host of suddenly urgent tasks. She seemed to be busy all the time now, either endlessly fussing over drawers full of clothes, or out visiting people. No one seemed to appreciate the fact that Tara had revision to do.

  ‘I can’t think why you’re straining your eyes over those books,’ Granny kept saying, ‘when you haven’t even finished sweeping the floor. What will your husband think of you, if ever we manage to find one for a girl who doesn’t know how to keep house properly? Girls should learn to cook and make themselves look nice for their husbands, not ruin their eyes over books.’