Growing Up Bin Laden - Jean P. Sasson [126]
There are many other stories. The life lived by the men around us was often so brutal that they did not notice cruelty. Even my own sons, and sons of the men who worked for my husband, were known to abuse animals. But Omar was willing to fight to protect them, telling the others, “Hey, leave that animal alone. I order you to stop.” Even the older boys would obey because they knew that Omar would not hesitate to take further action on behalf of the animal.
After months of life on that mountain, the days were beginning to feel like years. Then a good day arrived when Omar gave me the news that we would soon be leaving, to move to a city called Kandahar. Omar said, “My mother, your daily life will improve.” Although I was careful not to speak of my happiness, my heart fluttered with joy to hear that the time had come for us to leave the mountain life. I knew my child was nearly due, and I did not know what might happen, for I had not seen a doctor once since arriving at Tora Bora. I was no longer a young woman having easy pregnancies. I prayed that I would be in the town of Jalalabad or at Kandahar when my child decided to come.
Soon we were loading into my husband’s vehicles and making our way down the mountain. The move did not come a moment too soon, because shortly after arriving in Jalalabad, I went into labor. My husband was not with me, but my three oldest sons transported me to a small hospital in Jalalabad. No one could be with me, because that was not the way it was in Afghanistan, but my sons waited outside to hear that our family had another little girl to love. And so it came to be that I had Rukhaiya, a lucky baby who was never subjected to life on Tora Bora.
Although life would remain difficult in so many ways, God granted my wish that I would never again set foot on the peaks of my husband’s Tora Bora Mountain.
Chapter 20
The Violence Escalates
OMAR BIN LADEN
The thing I had wanted most had happened. Our family finally departed Tora Bora, and from that time on would never live on the mountain again. I could see that my mother and siblings were pleased, too. Although life anywhere in Afghanistan was a challenge, nothing could match Tora Bora for sheer misery.
The previous month had been filled with activity. When my father gave the order for his family and the main leaders of al-Qaeda to vacate bin Laden Mountain, my brothers and I were so cheerful that we had to struggle to keep ourselves from laughing aloud. For the first time, the grueling four-hour drive from Tora Bora to Jalalabad met with no complaints.
We remained in Jalalabad for a few weeks so that my father could organize his new plans with his lieutenants. That was an opportune time because my mother gave birth to a little girl named Rukhaiya almost as soon as we arrived, giving her a few weeks in Jalalabad to rest before we had to load up once again to make a car trip to Kabul.
When we left for Kabul, we saw that at every point the scenery was dramatically beautiful. Yet we could hardly enjoy the spectacular vistas because the roads were so rough that our vehicles bucked like wild broncos. Kabul was only a hundred miles west of Jalalabad, but the bad road meant that the trip took eight hours. I could think of little beyond my mother, her infant daughter, and my other young siblings.
I was relieved that we all arrived in Kabul in one piece. The city was located on a small plain, divided by the Kabul River and ringed by the dramatic mountains of the Hindu Kush.
Most importantly, my mother and the new baby made the trip without any medical complications. The family remained in that broken city for several weeks so that my father could inspect the area and meet with individuals there. While waiting for him to conduct his business, our family lived in rented two-storey houses that were rather ordinary, yet we were happy to have a roof over our heads, for few in Kabul had