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Afghanistan was a place that once upon a time was beautiful, had cities that were modern for the times and most importantly was free. Not anymore. It was an entirely different country from the country her grandmother had been born in. In the year 1997 it was a dirty, dingy country. The Russians had invaded them and destroyed so much of the good things in the country. In September the Taliban took over and declared them an Islamic state. Things went from bad to worse. No Afghanistan was not a place people would flock to anytime soon for relocation.

“Klara, will you pay attention and finish what you’re doing” her mother scolded her. She finished patting out the dough for the flatbread and took it outside to clay oven that was situated in a courtyard beside their house. The summer sun was almost unbearably hot. She was thankful that at the age of 11 she didn’t have to wear a burka yet though she knew the time was fast approaching. She looked down to see how her body was already betraying her. Her tiny breast starting to develop only made her mad. She knew the next thing would be her menses and then the burka. “I hate this place,” she said out loud as she checked the bread. It was about 120 degrees out and sitting near a hot oven was not making the situation any better. There were no trees to sit under the shade, only a fountain in the middle of the village where they got their water from.

The bread was finished. As Klara pulled the bread from the oven she saw a man enter their house. He was someone she did not know but knew he was one that followed the Islamic practices very closely. His beard giving away that he was one of the conservatives. She had never seen this man before and wondered if a new family had moved in. Anything different was heard in their village. Everyone knew everyone and everyone’s business. She shrugged not really caring who he was and figured her father had business. She walked into the house and placed the bread on the table and covered it with a cloth to keep the insects off. “Mother the bread is done, now what can I do?”

Her mother smiled at her, “Make your father and our guest some coffee and offer some of the sweet biscuits.” Klara set to work and got the small cups of coffee made, the biscuits and put them on the best dishes they owned. Hospitality was important in their culture. Nothing was too good for a guest. She quietly took the refreshments into the room and sat the refreshments before each man and left. The only acknowledgement she got was a smile from her father. As she was leaving the room the guest asked her father how the girl was and asked whether she shouldn’t go ahead and start wearing the burka. The man reminded her father that Allah wouldn’t want a man to lust after his daughter with her budding body and beautiful face. Her father agreed it was most likely for the best to start before she officially needed it.

Klara knew her mother heard the conversation and looked to her to see if it would happen. “Mama” she whispered. Her mother shook her head and pointed her to the outside. She knew her mother was letting her off her chores to deal with the news she had been dreading. Klara’s mother hated them and had tried to keep Klara from one for as long as she could. Klara prayed that man never came to their house ever again. She had no idea just how dangerous this man was going to be for her.

Another birthday passed and life for the Afghani’s had gotten very hard. Afghanistan was now an extreme Islamic State ran by the Taliban who practiced an extreme form of Islam. You weren’t given a choice but to follow the rules or you were killed. Stories of torture and killings were running rampant through the country. Women had no rights and were less than nothing in their new state. Rape dens had been established to punish women in some areas. Other areas the Taliban and those that supported would grab women and beat them to death if they saw infractions. Every inch of your body was to be covered. Even wearing nail polish was considered a sin. Her village was better than many. It was the bigger cities that seemed to have more problems. Their village watched out for one another and so far there had been no trouble. Klara was naive thought and didn’t realize that there was a very different reason for why their village had been left alone. She hadn’t noticed that her family was eating better, that they all had shoes now and of course the dreaded burka.

Klara was now 13 years old and had settled into what the rest of her life would be. She helped her mother take care of the house and the family. Going to school for girls had been outlawed so her mother and father taught her secretly for they still believed in education. They did their prayers and went to Mosque. She became the perfect, little Islamic woman on the outside. On the inside she hated it all. She wondered why God hated women so much in her religion. She remembered once when she was a small child a group of Christians had come through and taught them some Bible stories and she saw that God liked Christian women. She vowed one day she would be a Christian woman so God wouldn’t punish her anymore.

You found pleasure where you could find in the life she lived. At 13 she was considered a woman. Her father had been approached about a marriage from some of the men in their village and passing through but he knew she would be used as nothing more than a slave and always turned them down. Her father was now working for the man she had seen comes to their house years ago. She still didn’t know what his name was or what her father did; she just knew he would leave all day, sometimes for days before coming home. Her mother always was nervous when strangers were in town or the soldiers were near but no matter how much Klara questioned her, she never said a word. Life settled down into a routine. Things were a better for their small family overall.

There was a day that Klara’s entire life changed, where she learned how good people could do bad things, really bad things. An even bigger lesson learned was how you could still love a person even when they turned into a monster. It was still dark outside, hours before she needed to be up fixing breakfast when her father came into her. “Klara wake up. I need you to go with me today.” Klara opened her eyes and looked at her father. “Yes baba, give me a minute and I will be there.” It had been a long time since her father had wanted her to go to work with him. She was too tired to care and got up to dress. “Wear you best burka” and he left the sleep area that the entire family shared. Klara dressed quickly trying her best to not wake the others and slipped to the kitchen and quickly ate some bread and drank some water. She brushed her teeth and washed her face. She heard voice quiet outside the door and quickly donned her burka and opened the door. “Baba how many do I need to pack food for?” she asked her father. He shook his head and told her no one. He hated the burka fore he could not see the emotions playing across her face. He could read his daughter like a book and he wanted to know what she was thinking through this entire thing. The truth was he wanted to know at what point his daughter began hate him.

Klara covered the bread and extinguished the lights and walked outside to her father, careful to stand a respectful distance from him. Her eyes widen as she saw the two cars in front of her house. She had never ridden in a car before and smiled, excited to experience a car ride. Within her excitement fear started to form. Her father had always kept these trip secrets from her but she would sneak out of bed and see him with men driving off. She did not question why she was being brought along or where they were going. Though her family allowed her freedoms that many women in her country did not get these days she knew enough that around strangers to make it look as if they were the typical family. By not doing so could get her killed. The men seemed to be talking in code. What it all meant she had no idea but she was smart enough to know they did not want her knowing what they were doing. That made her nervous. What were they saying that could not be said outright? She felt a coldness seeping into her heart. Something told her today would change the rest of her life. She was not sure she was ready for it either. She quoted the Qur’an to herself to try and find peace. It was time for prayers and they pulled off the road and prayed right there. Klara knelt behind all the men as was expected. When they were finished they loaded into the cars again. She held her father’s hand, becoming more afraid and nervous the further they went.

Hours later they had arrived at their destination. “Klara you need to deliver this package to the man who is living in that house. There will be armed guards at the gate but they are expecting you. You are to give this package directly to their leader. Wait until he dismisses you, remember anything he says and if he hands you anything bring it to us without reading. Do whatever he asks of you.” She nodded in the affirmative, afraid to speak and took the package. She knew who this bin Laden was and these men were but what she couldn’t figure out was why her father was messed up with them. Her father would be part of the Taliban, she had to believe that. She would get her answers when they got home.

Klara stepped from the car and walked towards the gate. “What is the nickname your mother calls you by?” the guard asked her. “Gypsy” she replied and as admitted in. She was taken to a room where a tall man with a long beard and a kind face sat with men gathered around him. For once she was happy to have the burka so she was free to notice her surroundings. She stepped into the room and waited for the man notice her. He gave her the traditional Islamic greeting and she replied with what was proper. She handed the man the package and watched him smile as he read it. They quickly spoke in Arabic. She spoke Farsi but was able to understand some of it. The words she feared were uttered and her blood ran cold. Her anger burned brightly against her father for having anything to do with this but she had to stay quiet until she was home.

The man gave her a sealed package and told her to give it to the man who was in the car with her father. The man stood and told her to go in peace and prayed a blessing for her and thanked her for her service to Allah. She nodded and was lead back out to the car. She handed the package to the man and got into the car. Her father’s face was filled with pain and worry but she couldn’t look at him any longer. He squeezed her hand and she sat there coldly until she placed her hand back on her lap. Finally the man was finished looking through the papers she handed him and spoke. “You did very well Klara. We will be using you again.” Her eyes widened, once again was thankful for the burka. She vowed they would never use her again. She knew it meant she would have run away. The men talked about inconsequential things as they headed for home. When they arrived her father was handed an envelope containing money and the men left. Once they drove off she went into her home and went to the sleeping room crying.

Klara’s mother let her cry some before going in. She knew her daughter would figure it all out and would feel betrayed but they had been given no choice. After her sobs had died down both her mother and father came into talk to them. She lay in ball on the bed she shared with her brother and sister. “Why? Why baba would you have anything to do with those men? Why would you let them use me? You told me they were evil and they wanted to kill those who were not Muslim? Why?” she sobbed again. Her mother held her as her father explained.

“Gypsy, yes those men are the Taliban and I don’t need to explain who the man was you saw. He is their leader. They came to our village and the others surrounding ours to recruit for soldiers. I had no interest and turned them down originally. They offered money for our services of passing intel as well as protection. If we did not join and help we would be unable to find work and possibly killed. I tried to hold out for as long as I could but then I had no choice if I were to support us. I’m sorry they used you but we had to have someone that the American’s haven’t seen before. Their military is around and snooping and some of the men the Americans know who they are.” Her father reached to hug her and she pushed him away.

“You are no longer my father. You are no longer my mother. We could have moved, we could have done a lot of things but making deals with the devil should not have been one of them. When I was in his office he and the others laughed when bin Laden said ‘Death to Americans’. They want to kill people who are innocent of nothing more than being Christians and having a freedom. I want nothing to do with someone who would do this and I don’t want you as well.” Klara’s eyes flashed in anger and for a brief moment wondered if he would beat her like the other men were starting to do to women.

“Klara watch your tongue. I am your father and you will show me proper respect. It’s late and I do not want to discuss this anymore. We have another drop off tomorrow and you will do the same thing. You try to do anything stupid and those men will kill you. Now get some rest and realize that sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to do to survive.” With that her father left the room. Her mother hugged her tight and told her how sorry she was but for now it had to be this way.

Klara sobbed herself to sleep that night. In the morning her mother woke her up and she started her day as normal. She knew later in the day she would again be forced into the work of the devil. She knew she could not stay and be a part of this. As she cleaned the sleeping quarters for the family she packed a bag of the important things to her. She had very little so she would be able to grab the rest quickly and leave when the time presented itself. Little did she know how soon the opportunity would present itself.

The sun was high in the sky and they had just finished their midday meal and prayers when her father told her to get cleaned up, the car would be arriving. She walked to the room and changed from her work clothes and put on her other dress. She had just slid her burka over her head when she heard the gunfire. She peered out the window and saw American soldiers going door to door, kicking them in, families being led out. Some were already under arrest it appeared. Klara feared this had something to do with the men. Her parents were involved in this and it was a matter of time before they were at her house. She grabbed her bag and stuffed her dirty dress into it, grabbed a couple items and lastly her great-grandmother’s ruby necklace that was to be given to her on her wedding day. She climbed out the window and ran to a small shed behind the house and hid in there as the soldiers were heading this way. She debated on whether to turn herself in to them and tell them what she knew or stay hidden until she could get away.

The decision was made for the girl as a soldier kicked in the door. “Sgt. White I saw the woman come in here. She has to be here.” She curled into a tight ball, the blue of her burka sure to give her away in a dingy background. Klara was terrified and just wanted help but the soldiers were terrifying. She was not sure they would believe her. She wept quietly as she stayed hidden trying to figure out what to do. She had her head in her hands when she heard the click of the gun next to her head. A command given in Farsi to slowly stand and to remove her burka was given. She did as she was commanded, every move being watch closely by the men. A man spoke and it was quickly translated to her. “We aren’t here to hurt you, we’re looking for information. We’re American Marines.” Klara removed the burka and stood there looking at them wide eyed. She was searched as well as her bag. “Help me,” she said, not sure if she had said it correctly or not. They started to question her when gunfire erupted outside. She got a glimpse of the men seconds before an explosion. The men had blown the car up with themselves inside it. It took her home as well as her family with it.

Klara became quiet as she realized her family was dead. No crying, no emotion, nothing. Sgt. White found it very curious and took the girl with him. Looking into his eyes she found a kindness there and told her they needed the truth and he would help her all he could. The questions went on for hours. She had to describe all of the man, anything she could remember. Details she did not think were important they said may be crucial for them. She did her best, taking her time to answer to making sure she thought through things before she answered so it could be accurate.

Things had happened so fast. Klara had run away, been captured, watched her family killed and interrogated by the United States Marine Corps. All within a matter of hours her life was changed forever. They led her to a room that had a bed in it a television and a lamp. It was plain and stark but it matched her mood. She felt nothing right now. They informed her she was not a prisoner but due to her age they had to find her a place to stay. She lay on her bed, unable to even cry she was so confused of her feelings.
The soft knock on the door startled her awake as a head peeked through the door. “You awake?” Sgt. White asked her softly. She sat up and nodded quietly. He pulled a chair beside the bed and faced her. “You can call me Alex. My name is Alexander but Alex to my friends.” He smiled at her. “Honey do you have family that is still alive and not involved with the Taliban or anything illegal?” Again she shook her head. She explained she had never met her aunts and uncle for her father and moved them far away. Her grandmother was dead and she had no one left that she knew of. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes. She knew that if she were to ever have a chance to come to America it was now. “Please, I want Amreekia woman to be. Christian too,” she said in English and smiled through her tears. The large man smiled back at her and praised her for trying to speak English.

They talked for a very long time about why she wanted to come to America, and why she wanted to be a Christian. Alex felt that she was sincere about wanting to walk away from her past life. He was worried about her for she was carrying so much guilt about helping the enemy. He reassured her that they understood she had no choice and she had done nothing wrong.

“What is to become of me?” she asked him. Her eyes wide with fear. He looked at her and his heart melted. She was a thirteen old girl who had lived a life that many adults had not even lived. His heart ached for her. He wanted to help her with every fiber of his being but he needed to talk to his wife first about this. “Sleep Klara. Tomorrow we will talk again.” He ran his head over her head like a father would do and kissed the top of her head. He knew it was not protocol but he instinctively felt so protective of this little one.