The Road to Afghanistan - George Washington University

When the bodies were removed from the winter garden, the telephone rang. One ofthe servicemen took the phone. Having heard the voice on the end of the line, he apologizedand called the doctor.“This is Malalai, the wife of Abdul Illah. May I speak to my husband?”“I’m sorry madam, but that’s impossible.”“Where is he? What’s wrong? Is he wounded? Is he killed?”“He has been killed, madam.”“Where is the president? May I speak with him?”“Everyone—he, his wife, children, and grandchildren—have all been killed.”“Goodbye,” whispered the woman through the receiver as she hung up the phone.Malalai had known earlier that something terrible was going to happen. She knew earlierthat year, when twenty-nine-year-old Abdul Illah was appointed vice-premier and Daoud’ssuccessor for the Afghan presidency. Their second son was born then. “How lucky are we?It can’t go on like this,” thought Malalai with superstitious dread.This young and very beautiful woman knelt on her prayer rug. She prayed for peacefor the soul of her murdered husband. She didn’t pray long. When she rose from her knees,she knew exactly what she had to do. She first went to the bedroom and opened the drawerwhere a pistol was hidden. She took it and proceeded to the nursery. First she approachedthe bed of her four-year-old son. He was asleep. Feeling his mother’s presence, the sonopened his eyes and smiled at her. “You are so beautiful, my boy,” Malalai thought beforeshooting him through the forehead. The baby heard the sound of the shot, woke up, andbegan crying. Malalai rushed to his bed and shot him as well. At that moment the door ofthe nursery burst open, and the soldier who never left his post guarding their house in one88