QUETTA
To the two policemen surveying the jostling throng marching past their post at the main junction of seven paths, the throng of men leaving the bus and shuffling along the streets looked like just like the hordes of itinerant laborers seeking work.
The crowd of more than eighty bus passengers appeared to be burdened with their entire worldly possessions in burlap sacks and cloth satchels as they surged towards the ramshackle settlement that housed more than three hundred thousand war refugees.
In the shadow of a dilapidated shop, the five men paused to regroup and orient themselves with their surroundings based on the aerial maps and photographs they had studied during their planning in Amman.
**
The sparse light from a few kerosene lamps and flickering garbage fires illuminated the sloping rutted path as they merged into the shadows of the alleyways.
The housing in this section comprised primarily of two or three story dilapidated tenements. The streets and alleys connecting the buildings were festooned with a plethora of multi-coloured extension cords strung from makeshift poles connected to illegal power sources. The workers from the power utilities had learned not to venture into this section decades ago.
In the distance, the shelters transformed from permanent places of abode to ramshackle structures that comprised primarily of galvanized sheets, blue or white UN tarpaulins and a variety of other coverings. In the darkness, several pinpricks of light from kerosene lamps were both a source of illumination and warned of the imminent danger of death by fire to any careless occupants.
"Asssssh!" Mustapha spat on the side of the garbage strewn road. "My father told me that some of our towns had smelled this way after the Palestinians fled during the first Israeli War. How do people live like this?"
"All refugee camps have the same look and smell of death," Christopher muttered as he pulled his shemagh closer and breathed through his mouth in an effort to reduce the stench. The smell of smoke and decaying garbage brought back unwanted memories of Rwanda. "Even today in Beirut, there are half a million people living with bad sewage, no clean water and the same conditions. Gaza is an even bigger cesspool that will breed mutants if it continues down its present path ..." He shook his head to clear the memories and began to trudge carefully through a gap in the shelters.
Several smaller children stopped their activities to stare at the five strangers as their parents and adults gazed away in a distracted attempt to avoid eye contact.
**
From the shadows of a ramshackle lean to, three men swiveled from their small fire and brought their AK74Ms to the ready.
"Easy, brother," Christopher whispered in Pashto. "We are here to see our families." He held both his arms outstretched at shoulder level and stepped into the light.
"Where are you from?" one of the men demanded as he adjusted his face scarf.
"From the glorious fight. That is all you need to know," Christopher responded.
"Then why are your friends not coming forward?"
"Your hospitality to us is not exactly welcoming and my brothers have travelled far from other lands to assist us." Christopher gestured at the assault rifles. "How do we know that you do not have friends amongst the foreigners?"
One of the men spat into the fire. "Who are you? Where do you come from?"
"Who are you and where do you come from? I come in peace after five days' travel. If you know our cause, you can guess where that distance is from."
DU LIEST GERADE
The Shaddad Conspiracy
Abenteuer“Your murder victim was not an innocent, naive woman. She was on our terrorist watch list. The fact that she escaped from Basra and lived a normal life in London buggers belief, but she was planted here by a foreign government to wreck the Taliban p...
