The Devil's Road To Kathmandu

Heaven’s where you find it

HEAVEN’S WHERE YOU FIND IT

“It is clear, this is my wife. This is not my wife. You are my guest. You are not my sister. Man has sense, he can make choice. A dog gives birth to many dogs and maybe dogs don’t know about choice and they do it with each other.”

Harun Ali lowered his head a little, as if embarrassed to explain.

“We have choice, so we must decide, not lie like the dog with the other dog.”

“So…?” Dan glanced at Paola who sat next to him, straight backed and serious now. Nevertheless, she had definitely inched her way nearer to him.

“Dan, you are guest in my house, I only tell you what I find difficult with foreigners. I like foreigners to come to my house. Since 1969, foreigners have come to stay. Some stay long time. But here there is Islam and there must be some respect. And the way some girls dress in Madyan…is okay with me, but not with Madyan.”

Dan nodded seriously, too, thinking mostly about how he might be able to remove the Italian girl’s clothes, away from the watchful eyes of Allah. She attracted him like… like he didn’t know what. And he guessed it was mutual. He knew it was mutual. Good. As pure as anything he had experienced.

“In 1970, Swat became part of Pakistan. Before we have independence, our wali build many schools, hospitals and road in the valley. Before I play music, Hindi music, Bollywood music in my shop in town and in the evenings all people used to come and listen and talk about the valley. Now everyone is scared. The mullahs will not be happy. And they build no new schools. There was a French restaurant here, with real French cook. Last year. Also gone.”

“Domage,” Thierry muttered out of the darkness. “It would have been nice to try French food in Pakistan. I tried in Teheran already.”

“Good?” Susanne asked.

“No.”

Harun Ali continued, “The Frenchman become Muslim. He wants Pakistan passport. He asks me one day to find wife. I find wife. She is very nice local girl. They make engagement. She like him, he like her. The father agrees. The Frenchman goes to the house some time after and the father tells him, no wedding, and throws him out. The council of local Pathan decide that this is no good. Because the mullah sits in the council.”

“No good,” Thierry echoed.

“Yusuf, he has a problem a little like this. He loves the girl. The girl loves Yusuf. But the father of the girl he come from Swat and Yusuf is from Peshawar. Same Pathan, but different people. So, he gives her to a cousin, son of Rashid.”

Harun Ali spat on the floor.

“No good,” the Frenchman muttered again.

Dan looked at their host questioningly. Harun Ali was quick to reassure him. “Fateh Rashid is businessman. Inshallah, he will make a good business deal with you because the connection to brother-in-law, Yusuf’s father is strong. But Rashid son is no good.”

“So why do you go to the mosque all the time, if you disagree with the mullahs. Is it dangerous not to be seen there or something?”

“Three things are important in Islam, Dan. First, there is God. Second, there is only one God. Third, God can do anything and man cannot. I read in the Koran. I can read Arabic. But the mullah is not the Koran.”

“So, you think it’s right that this girl’s forced into an arranged marriage?”

“No, is not right, but it is. We can do nothing, because Pathan law is more old than Islam. If Pathan family need to protect their life in Swat, they turn to mullahs to make sure Islam help them. If Yusuf want to marry the girl, he must take her from the house and go away, never come back to here. Anyway, now is late already. I think the wedding already finished.”