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back DAN O’BRIEN

Kandahar to Canada

TIMEWinter 2012.

PLACEKandahar International Airport, then Toronto Pearson International Airport.

CASTPAUL WATSON, middle-aged. Journalist.
ROYA SHAMS, 17. Afghan schoolgirl.
OFFICER, 20s. Afghan police officer in Kandahar, Canadian immigration
officer in Toronto.

 

PAULTell them after I wrote an article
about you, your father, the police chief,
watched a hand grenade rattling into
white, deaf night. Tell them you claimed his body
off the mosque floor. Tell them you hear voices
hissing in your cell phone accusing you
of defiling young women by teaching
them the internet. Tell them they’ve promised
to rape you and your sisters, then murder
your sisters first. But you mustn’t forget
what your father used to teach you: either
your country or a coffin.
ROYAWhat is this?
PAULIt’s a gift. A diary. It’s for you
to write your private thoughts inside.
OFFICERHello,
friend.
PAULDo I know you?
OFFICERWhere you go now, friend?
PAULSorry. Have we met before?
OFFICERI helped you
last time. Last time.
PAULOh right, I had trouble
with my bags. And this man gave me a ride
in his police car, Roya.
OFFICER You know me,
friend!
PAULI remember you now. Yes.
OFFICER Where is
your hand?
PAULMy hand?
OFFICERIED?
PAULI was born
this way. I’m a journalist.
OFFICER Journalist.
PAULI write stories, take pictures.
OFFICER Ha ha ha.
PAULWhy is that funny?
OFFICERIt must be very
difficult to write stories and make pictures
with one hand.
PAULSometimes.
OFFICERWhere you go now, friend?
PAULHome.
OFFICERTo America?
PAULCanada. I went
home for a while, then I came back. And now
I'm going home again.
OFFICERWith she.
PAULSorry?
OFFICERShe is student, yes?
PAULShe’s a student, yes.
I’m escorting her to a private school
in Ottawa.
OFFICEROttawa.
PAULShe received
a scholarship. My newspaper’s readers
gave her money.
OFFICERWhat kind of shoes are this?
PAULAdidas.
OFFICERAdidas.
PAULImitations
really.
OFFICERWhat is book?
PAULNothing.
OFFICERWhy nothing?
PAULThe pages are all blank. See? It’s for her
private thoughts.
OFFICERShe is very good student
to go to America with you.
PAULShe is
an exceptional student.
OFFICERI talk with her
now in private.
PAULWait—
OFFICERDo you know Pashto,
my friend?
PAULNo.
OFFICERYou are not good student like
she. Ha ha ha.
PAULOscillating fans whirring
from spackled walls. Telephone lines threading
vaguely Islamic arches. The thrumming
of fluorescent lights. Sun in the patchwork
cathedral of windowpanes. Razor wire
on blast walls outside. Screeching of taxiing
American cargo jets. The submerged drone
of flight delays. Brats playing at the feet
of pilgrims in black burqas, sending me
death stares over their black veils. Roya’s veil’s
black and red polka dots. She’s motherly,
melodious. Reasoning. The officer
speaks shyly. Jilted. Uniformed slate slacks
like pajamas tucked into jack boots two
sizes too big. Cadet cap like the French
used to wear in Vichy. Kalashnikov
slung like an electric guitar. Toying
with his radio. While I unscrew and switch
the lens on my camera. Take a picture,
take his picture. Why haven’t I taken
their picture yet?
OFFICERStay, stay.
PAULWhat did he say?
ROYAHe is telling to me there are families
allowing, and are you from Kandahar
that they are allowing?
PAULSorry?
ROYAHe says,
You are unmarried!—how they allow you
to go?
PAULYes.
ROYAHe was just, you know, asking
negative things.
PAULYes, yes.
ROYAThey are pinchers,
you know?
PAULYes, I know.
ROYA:All the time searching
the law.
PAULYes. It is difficult.
ROYAI answered
him. I answered him.
PAULAnd was he polite?
Or was he sort of mean?
ROYAMean. Ha ha ha.
PAULSorry.
ROYAHe’s ignorant. Like my father
always said, Even if education
is in China I will never become
disappointed from you to don’t go! And
don’t do. So we are having that. And now
we are here and here we have to follow
that.
PAULGood for you.
ROYAThank you.
PAULIt’s difficult here.
ROYAYeah.
PAULBut believe me, where you’re going is
very easy. Ha ha ha. It’s almost
over. It’s almost over.
ROYA—No I’m not
afraiding of them! I came to this world
one day, and one day I’ll go.
PAULGood for you.
ROYAThank you.
PAULSo he said we can go?
ROYANo! No!
He said he must make phone call now.
OFFICERHello,
friend, I talk to student again.
PAULI will
be recording this, friend—I’ll translate this
when I get home!
OFFICERSit with me, Roya. Life
has been difficult for me too. Few weeks back
somebody stopped at the checkpoint—
ROYAI know—
OFFICERIn a Toyota. The women outside
were selling raisins to the cars in line,
as usual. When two American trucks
came out, the Toyota blew up. I fell
on my knees. I was praying. And choking
while the smoke lifted. I stood up and slipped
in this rippled white mush that was a boy’s
lungs. His chest was open like a suitcase
at my feet. No arms or legs. It’s difficult
for everyone, Roya—
ROYAI have a friend
who works at this US agency—
OFFICERWhich
agency?
ROYAHere’s her email address. Send
ROYAI promise you, if
you’re still working here one day, you’ll see me
walk right past you again.
PAULWhat’s he saying?
ROYAHe’s saying, “Good luck.”
PAULGood morning.
OFFICERHello,
friend.
PAULDo I know you?
OFFICERI said good morning,
sir.
PAULAre you sure?
OFFICER—Are you feeling all right?
PAULI have post-traumatic stress disorder.
OFFICEROkay.
PAULI’m a journalist, escorting
this young lady to school in Canada.
OFFICERWhere are you escorting her?
PAULCanada.
OFFICERThis is Canada, sir. —Tell me again
where you’re taking her?
PAULTo Matthew Perry’s
alma mater.
OFFICERWho?
PAULHe’s an American
TV star? Friends?
OFFICERAnd are you related
in any way?
PAULTo Matthew Perry?
OFFICERNo—
PAULHa ha ha!
OFFICERMay I have your Declaration
Cards, sir?
PAULLet me just put my bags down.
OFFICERTake
your time.
PAULMan I could really use a shower,

Hands him
the cards.

you know? Here you go.
OFFICERI see her father
was killed last July.
PAULHow do you know that?
OFFICERIt says so right here in the computer,
see?
PAULHa ha ha.
OFFICERWhy is that funny, sir?
PAULI don’t know why, sir.
OFFICERSo who should I list
as responsible for her?
PAULI don’t know,
my editor? Or the headmaster—?
OFFICERSir,
I’ll need a name. Without a name she can’t
come in. I’ll put her right back on that plane,
understand?
PAULUnderstood.
OFFICERWhat about you?
PAULWhat about me?
OFFICERAre you responsible
for this girl?
PAULI won the Pulitzer Prize
while you were still shitting your diapers—!
OFFICERSir,
I’m going to have to ask you—
PAULHave you seen
that photograph—?
OFFICERTo please lower your voice!
PAULOf that American soldier’s cadaver
being dragged through the streets of Mogadishu
in 1993?
OFFICERNo.
PAULThat was me!
I was there! I took that picture!
OFFICERI served
in Panjwai. In Kandahar.
PAULWhen?
OFFICER’04
to ’08.
PAULI knew you looked like someone
I might know.
OFFICEROscar Company. That’s why
if I pull up my pants you’ll see my leg’s
robotic. See?
PAULI’m sorry, sir.
OFFICERYou know
how it is though, right?
PAULI was born this way
actually.
OFFICEROh.
PAULHa ha ha.
OFFICERYou should know
you’re not helping her really. Plucking her
from the Afghan hinterland, bringing her
here, giving her the best education
money can buy. She’ll never survive here
alone. And just assuming, I’m sorry,
she’ll go back to Kandahar one day and
save her people is naïve. Her people
want to rape and murder her. Or maybe
this isn’t about her, it’s about you,
she’s some kind of project for you—
ROYAEither
your country or a coffin.
OFFICERSorry, what
is she saying?
ROYAEither your country or
a coffin.
PAULIt’s what her father used to
teach her.
OFFICERShe speaks English?
PAULOh sure, she speaks
a lot of it.
OFFICERI’ll list the headmaster
as her guardian for now. Okay?
PAULThanks.
OFFICERYou’re going to want to take this form with you
as you exit, Roya. Good luck.
PAULYou’re in.
You’re in. How does it feel?
ROYAGood.
PAULDid you think
you’d ever make it here?
ROYAYeah.
PAULYour father’s
name was in their file!
ROYAYeah.
PAULHe knew, he knew
when he read his computer!
ROYAYeah.
PAULSorry,
Roya. I’m so sorry. This way. This way.

They exit while
the officer stays.

Thank you.

END OF PLAY  

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   Contributor’s notes
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