Laila+visits+Mariam's+kolba

Herat. Mariam's home. No, Herat was not her home. She barely saw the place. The kolba was her home. Mariam's kolba. As I walked across the splintered floor boards all I could think was: fifteen years. Fifteen years in this place. It was even smaller than it looked from the outside. It was home to spiders, flies, and all manner of weeds. The kolba was decimated. I found some writing that must have been Russian, that meant that they had been there. It makes me so angry, that those people strutted about this temple of Mariam. In Pakistan, it was hard for me to see her face in my mind. The details would not come to me. It was as if I was to far away. I could not see her because I was not close enough. But there, in the place of Mariam's childhood I was as close to her as I've ever been. I recalled her features easily, as if she was never gone. I could see her gaze upon me, the long chin, the tight lipped smile, her soft radiance. I could feel my head resting in her lap as she gently rocked to and fro. Her whiperings from the Koran swaying to a melody, in motion with her body movements. The words coming from her heart and out of her lips, then coursing through my body and my soul. And then it was all gone. The weeds, the spiders, even the Russian grafiti was magicly wiped clean. Like it had never been there, or at least was not there yet. The floors were whole. I saw two sleeping cots, a wooden table, some pots and pans. I could even hear the soft rushing of the stream in the distance. A young Mariam was sitting at the table making a doll. Her face was smooth and youthful, her hair washed, combed back. She had all her teeth. One day this little girl would grow up to be a woman. A woman that would cook and clean and do everything asked of her. And would ask for nothing for herself. A woman who would stand tall against everything and everyone, proud and straight, while behind her eyes would dance the sorrows of her woeful life. She would stand strong, battered by the roaring wind of Rasheed and the raging waters of the Taliban, and she would never fall. Her firmness would end her life, and save mine.

(by Diana) return to timeline