Duplicity Ch. 08

The elder Khan always had a pension for the finer things in life. And growing poppy was far more lucrative than anything else he could ever grow. The old man just turned a blind eye to the fact that his crop directly contributed to ruining people's lives. He had regular dealings with the Taliban. He felt that the Taliban just wanted to protect and provide for their families. And although he didn't agree with their laws or share their views; he didn't see anything wrong with doing business with them. Business was business. Their ancestors had been growing opium for generations. The elder Khan held the Taliban's respect and he held theirs.

What the elder Khan did have a problem with were foreigners. He didn't trust them. Sure you can go abroad and receive an education but he didn't trust foreign powerful governments in his homeland. Fucking Russians, fucking English, fucking Americans... they all want the same thing, he would say. He might have been a bit xenophobic... or maybe he was just a realist.

But al-Qaeda was a whole different story. They were mere ants who thought they could overthrow an elephant. And in the end, all they did was piss the elephant off... and bring the monstrous creature stomping back to their homeland.

Farzin remembered his father saying al-Qaeda were crazy cowards and fools who hid behind their guns, their bombs and their God. Because although they were all called Muslims; the elder Khan's God was surely different from al-Qaeda's. The Allah he prayed to five times a day, hated violence... and theirs seemed to love it.

One summer when Farzin was 21 and back home on holiday, he witnessed the exchange between his father and a well-known Taliban leader. There was talk that al-Qaeda were getting more possessive and extreme and were creeping into the Taliban's rule.

Being young and somewhat of an activist; Farzin was outraged. He was naive to think that their poppy crop was one of the few that were converted into medicine that actually helped people like codeine, hydrocodone and morphine. That was what his father had always told him; that the poppy was sold to a large European pharmaceutical company. Until then, he'd always had so much respect for his father.

But his world shattered when he found out his father owned one of the largest Afghan opium farms used solely for heroin conversion. Words were exchanged. And Farzin regretted that his last words to his father were that he was ashamed to carry his name.

Undoubtedly, the family stress was what caused his mother's sudden heart attack 2 years ago... his sweet submissive mother. She died thinking her husband and son hated each other. And he knew that was on him. And now his father was dead and he had never made peace with him either.

But on his life, he vowed to make this right. So he arranged everything with the UNSC, NATO and the U.S. government. They would provide support in the farm's crop transition. He would successfully convert his father's farm and lift the blemish that was forever associated with their name. Farzin smiled. Now that the soldiers have arrived everything would go according to plan.

He ushered the soldiers around the backside of the house. Walking alongside Farzin's left was a young man strapped with a M16; the captain walked to his right. Farzin and the captain continued their conversations in hushed tones.

As they walked, the men observed an enormous emerging white tent. Yards of fabric draped the inside. Rows of tables and chairs were set up on a large lush carpet with intricate designs. It seemed more like a high society brunch than a place for soldiers to eat.

Under the tent, there were men dressed in servant's uniform setting up stations with silver covered platters and chaffing dishes. The exotic aroma lingered around them as they walked. Sean's stomach growled. He hoped the Captain cleared the food to eat because he was starving. Dominic came by Sean and lightly shoved his shoulder.

"You awake now bro?"

Sean chuckled. "Fuck you man." He silently continued to look around in wonder.

"Just wait till you see the fields." Sean nodded. He knew Dominic had been assigned to another farm sometime back.

They turned the corner and trekked up the steep hill. Farzin and the captain led the group up front. The other soldiers had stopped when they reached the top; just staring into the open space. When Sean reached the edge and gazed over... he understood what all the fuss was about.

As far as the eye could see... was poppy.

Vibrant green leaves littered the landscape. The sun was setting, giving off a yellowish orange haze over the valley.

Red and white flowers scattered throughout creating a sea of white, pink and green dots. It reminded Sean of his third grade art class when he'd learned about pointillism. He remembered how much fun he had stabbing the paper with different colored markers. That's what the poppy fields looked like; waves upon waves of perfect tiny dots.

They descended in the valley and got closer to the crop. Sean was surprised to see how tall they were. The stalks of poppy came up to his chest. The soldiers maneuvered themselves around the flowers; analyzing them in interest.

The flowers were actually pretty. Like something you would buy your girlfriend or plant in your garden. The smell was overwhelmingly sweet. How ironic. How could something that caused so much death and destruction be so beautiful?

The flower petals were a bright angelic white color with deep magenta stripes on the sides. Although the flower was white, the blood red color was so intense; it made the whole flower look pink. It was as if the flower's guilty conscience spilled over and overwhelmed its true color.

The stalks that had no petals just stood in a round pod. Raw opium was encased in it. The capsules looked innocent enough; green and round like a golf ball with a little flat crown top.

It was an odd scene as his unit cautiously walked through the delicate poppy fields. The trained soldiers treaded softly... ready to engage at any moment. Securely strapped to their shoulders were their loaded M16's. Their strong hands wrapped around their familiar loaded weapons as the flowers softly brushed their fatigues.

The stick figure poppy stalks all stood high as if lifting their heads in prayer; humming a somber hymn. It was as if they recognized their day of destruction had finally arrived.

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With great effort, they promptly cut and bulldozed the crop. The machetes sliced through the poppy stalks as if they were t-ball batting. Every poppy stalk was destroyed. And then it was over.

Time passed.

Slowly.

Too slowly.

It had been 2 months since the crop's complete destruction. And the Insha'Allah farm was still as peaceful as it had been when Sean first arrived. Strange but true. Farzin and the captain couldn't have been happier.

But Sean was slowly going crazy... with boredom. There was only so much he could write his sister Sienna and his family.

That's one thing you don't count on when you first enlist in the army. You expect action... a non-stop adrenaline high. But the reality is that there are long stretches of nothing. Silence. Just echoes of your beating heart and memories of regrets that cloud your thinking.

Too much time.

Sean's thoughts were interrupted every morning between the very beginning of dawn and sunrise. Without delay the first call for prayer could be heard throughout the region. The morning dew and fog was still thick over the fields but you could still hear the chant that made believers stop and remember their daily solemn duty. The masculine voice on the loud speaker was hauntingly beautiful and echoed throughout the land.

Sean was posted on an overbank by the perimeter that overlooked the fields to the east. And every day he would watch an Afghan National Army soldier stationed below him; take his RPG-7 off his shoulder and rest it on the wall. On his knees, the man would bend at the waist until his forehead touched the floor; and he would recite those words from memory. Sean wondered what he was saying. With scrunched eyebrows he would observe the man finish his prayer, strap his rocket launcher on once again and continue his surveillance.

This was one fucked up place; where the most pious of men were ready to praise their god one minute and kill their enemy in the next.

Sean had to get out of there. He was going stir crazy.

Ajmal, the language specialist, had taken to teaching him some Pashto and Arabic. And Sean was getting pretty good at it. In the couple of months he'd been there, he could almost be considered fluent. Because of this he'd become acquainted with some people that worked in the house.

One the first things Ajmal taught him was how to talk to the local women. A necessary skill. Ajmal was a natural flirt and was known for recounting some wild stories. Patience was key, he said. And it was about time that Sean tested it out.

He had befriended the girl who worked in the house. The one he saw his first day there. And he may or may not have developed a little crush on her. With girls back home; he would have had them screaming his name by now. But he had to be smart about approaching this girl; he didn't want to spook her. But in time she would be his.

And just like that he stumbled onto the perfect distraction.

©partial2passion

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Chapter 9 is coming up soon. Let me know what you think!

Also here are some meanings of names:

Farzin- "learned"

Insha'Allah- "God willing"

Ajmal- "handsome"