Ground Zero(62)

Taz had left to receive proper medical treatment for his wounds, but he was back now. Reshmina could see him climbing the hill toward where she and her father worked. Taz was clean and bandaged and had put on a new uniform, and he carried something over his shoulder.

Reshmina kept her head down and kept moving rocks until Taz was standing right next to her.

“Can I help?” Taz asked.

Reshmina didn’t look at him.

“I brought blankets,” Taz added. He held out a large duffel bag. “Food. A portable stove.”

“Thank you,” Reshmina said at last.

Baba nodded to him, and Taz set the bag down and started to help them clear the debris. He had a new rifle on a strap across his back, and when he bent over to move a rock, the rifle slid down in his way.

“I hear some of the villagers are packing up and leaving for Pakistan,” Taz said.

It was true. Half the village had already collected their payments from the US Army and set off before dark.

Taz pushed his rifle out of the way again and hefted a rock. “Are you and your family going to go with them?”

“No,” Reshmina told him. “My family has decided to stay here. To rebuild.”

“You sound like you don’t want to do that.”

“Why should we?” Reshmina asked. “Our home will just be destroyed again. If not by you, then by the next country that invades. But there is no future for me in Pakistan either.” Reshmina sat back to take a break and catch her breath. “Did you rebuild your fallen towers?”

“The World Trade Center?” Taz asked. “Yes and no. They built one new giant skyscraper at Ground Zero instead.”

“Ground Zero?” Reshmina asked. She knew what those words meant, but not together.

Taz stood and pushed his rifle around to his back again. “Ground Zero is like … the place where a big bomb goes off, or a big disaster happens. It’s what they called the place the World Trade Center used to be, until they built the new tower on top of it.”

Ground Zero, Reshmina thought. That was as good a name as any for the pile of rocks she was sitting on. It certainly wasn’t a village anymore.

“We can help you,” Taz said. “Rebuild your village, I mean. We have machines and stuff for this. I don’t know how we’d get them in here …”

“Bombed them back up to the Stone Age,” Reshmina said. She went back to work, moving rocks. “That’s what one of your people said. Right after your Apache destroyed my village.”

“He shouldn’t have said that,” Taz said quietly. “And it was an accident. We’re paying for everything that was lost.”

“Yes, I know,” Reshmina said. She gestured at the rock pile. “Lost your house and everything in it? Here’s 4,724 American dollars. Lose a goat? Our sincere apologies, and here is 106 dollars. Lose a daughter? Here’s 1,143 dollars. Not as much as for a son, of course, because girls are not worth as much in Afghanistan.”

Taz grimaced at how callous it all sounded, but Reshmina wasn’t wrong, and they both knew it. “They’ll reward you for saving my life,” Taz said. “You and your family. You’ll get more money than anyone else.”

Reshmina sighed. “What will we do with money?” she asked. “We cannot eat it. We cannot milk it. We cannot ride upon it, or sleep inside it. There is no place to spend it, and nothing to spend it on.” Taz opened his mouth as if to say something, but Reshmina went on. “Use the money to bribe our way across the border into Pakistan? For what? To live the rest of our lives in a refugee camp? That’s if we’re lucky and the Taliban doesn’t steal the money from us first.”

Reshmina picked up a rock and threw it away. “You Americans think you can fix everything by throwing money at it,” she added. “But your friend was right. This is like the Stone Age. Because no one will let us get past the Stone Age. Not when there is nothing but war. Do you understand? The best thing you can do to help us is leave us alone.”

“But the Taliban—” Taz said.

“Will take over when you go. I know,” Reshmina said. “But your country helped create the Taliban. You gave them weapons and trained them to drive out the Soviets. We have the old textbooks to prove it. Even when you try to help us, you hurt us. And yourselves. Maybe what we need is for you to stop ‘helping’ us.”

Taz shook his head. “I learned a long time ago that it’s not ‘us against the world,’ Reshmina. It’s all of us, together. For each other.”

Reshmina smiled at Taz. How could he not see it? “You can’t help us by rebuilding villages and destroying them at the same time. Look at you,” she said. “You can’t even help me with both hands right now because your gun keeps getting in the way.”

She’d caught Taz pushing his rifle up onto his back again with one hand while he tried to pick up a rock with the other. He froze, realizing what he was doing, and his face went red. Carefully, deliberately, he took off his rifle and set it to one side, then picked up the rock with both hands and chucked it away. He held out his arms, palms up, as if to say, Look, see? I can help with both hands.

Reshmina smiled ruefully. “You may be able to do that,” she told him, “but your country never will. They help with one hand and hold a gun in the other.”