A Daring Rescue
Never had I imagined that the middle aged man in the false beard would be my saviour. Even less could I have expected what happened during those thirty minutes. And even if it has been over 20 years, I still remember every detail as if it were yesterday.
As I entered the room all dressed up, as always when my new master called for me, I was surprised at seeing another man with Him. The man didn’t look evil like the talib. No, I think he looked scared, or even terrified. He was wearing a kufi and a false beard. He was sitting on the couch eating grapes and he seemed to know the talib. I remember wondering what they would make me do this time, when they would begin. But they never began. Instead they started talking in a language I didn’t understand. There certainly was a strange atmosphere in the room that day. They finally reached an agreement and it seemed like I was leaving with the stranger, who was apparently called Amir. Amir seemed very surprised with the talib’s decision but didn’t say anything. As we started to leave, something strange happened. Amir has told me a hundred times what the whole thing was about but I really think he’s blackening a part of the story about him and my dad. The talib told Amir about a debt that Amir had to pay, and before I knew it the talib had taken out a brass knuckle with which he savagely started beating my saviour in a way I didn’t think was possible.
Amir tried to defend himself but I could see in his way of fighting that he hadn’t been in many fist-fights in his life. The talib repeatedly hit Amir in the face. He wasn’t killing him, he was destroying him. I stood there, paralyzed for what seemed like an eternity. I tried to think. I really wanted to help Amir but I didn’t know how. I finally remembered the slingshot I always had with me. I had become famous in the orphanage for my power and accuracy with it. And it wasn’t for nothing; the slingshot was a deadly weapon in my hands. I just needed something to shoot, something small and hard. I watched around the chaotic room trying to ignore the havoc produced by the fight. I finally got my eyes on a small metal pellet attached to a table leg. The two men were too busy fighting to see me, so I slowly went over to the table and started to remove the pellet. I was just about to get it loose when I heard someone laugh. It wasn’t the talib’s nasty roar of laughter, but a truly happy one. I couldn’t believe my ears and I was even more confused when I turned around and saw that it was Amir who was laughing. His face was barely a face anymore and he was far beyond recognition. The talib looked as confused as I was and stopped the beating for a second or two before he kept on disfiguring Amir’s face. I finally had the pellet in my hand. I loaded my slingshot, tensed the rubber bands and aimed for the talib’s eye. I gathered courage and managed to call out a weak “stop it”. The talib turned around and faced me with an ear-to-ear grin, which faded away as soon as he saw my slingshot. I didn’t hesitate. I knew this was my chance to finally be free. I didn’t care much about the other man at the time. I was more concerned of what was going to happen to me. I realize now that it was a very risky shot. I didn’t think of the possible consequences if I had missed, and I prefer not to know. But as I let go of the pellet I realized I wasn’t going to miss. I saw the metal ball take the place of his right eye. It was a horrible sight which I wish I could erase from my mind. The talib fell to the ground in pain and I hurried over to Amir to help him out the door. He was barely conscious and I needed someone to carry him. Fortunately he had a friend waiting outside who helped him into a jeep. I think he passed out the moment we got him into the car. The trip that followed was the longest of my life.
Never had I imagined that the middle aged man in the false beard would be my saviour. Even less could I have expected what happened during those thirty minutes. And even if it has been over 20 years, I still remember every detail as if it were yesterday.
As I entered the room all dressed up, as always when my new master called for me, I was surprised at seeing another man with Him. The man didn’t look evil like the talib. No, I think he looked scared, or even terrified. He was wearing a kufi and a false beard. He was sitting on the couch eating grapes and he seemed to know the talib. I remember wondering what they would make me do this time, when they would begin. But they never began. Instead they started talking in a language I didn’t understand. There certainly was a strange atmosphere in the room that day. They finally reached an agreement and it seemed like I was leaving with the stranger, who was apparently called Amir. Amir seemed very surprised with the talib’s decision but didn’t say anything. As we started to leave, something strange happened. Amir has told me a hundred times what the whole thing was about but I really think he’s blackening a part of the story about him and my dad. The talib told Amir about a debt that Amir had to pay, and before I knew it the talib had taken out a brass knuckle with which he savagely started beating my saviour in a way I didn’t think was possible.
Amir tried to defend himself but I could see in his way of fighting that he hadn’t been in many fist-fights in his life. The talib repeatedly hit Amir in the face. He wasn’t killing him, he was destroying him. I stood there, paralyzed for what seemed like an eternity. I tried to think. I really wanted to help Amir but I didn’t know how. I finally remembered the slingshot I always had with me. I had become famous in the orphanage for my power and accuracy with it. And it wasn’t for nothing; the slingshot was a deadly weapon in my hands. I just needed something to shoot, something small and hard. I watched around the chaotic room trying to ignore the havoc produced by the fight. I finally got my eyes on a small metal pellet attached to a table leg. The two men were too busy fighting to see me, so I slowly went over to the table and started to remove the pellet. I was just about to get it loose when I heard someone laugh. It wasn’t the talib’s nasty roar of laughter, but a truly happy one. I couldn’t believe my ears and I was even more confused when I turned around and saw that it was Amir who was laughing. His face was barely a face anymore and he was far beyond recognition. The talib looked as confused as I was and stopped the beating for a second or two before he kept on disfiguring Amir’s face. I finally had the pellet in my hand. I loaded my slingshot, tensed the rubber bands and aimed for the talib’s eye. I gathered courage and managed to call out a weak “stop it”. The talib turned around and faced me with an ear-to-ear grin, which faded away as soon as he saw my slingshot. I didn’t hesitate. I knew this was my chance to finally be free. I didn’t care much about the other man at the time. I was more concerned of what was going to happen to me. I realize now that it was a very risky shot. I didn’t think of the possible consequences if I had missed, and I prefer not to know. But as I let go of the pellet I realized I wasn’t going to miss. I saw the metal ball take the place of his right eye. It was a horrible sight which I wish I could erase from my mind. The talib fell to the ground in pain and I hurried over to Amir to help him out the door. He was barely conscious and I needed someone to carry him. Fortunately he had a friend waiting outside who helped him into a jeep. I think he passed out the moment we got him into the car. The trip that followed was the longest of my life.We saved each others’ lives that day, and even if I soon after this incident lost my faith in Amir, there has been a special bond between my uncle Amir and me ever since. Anyway, I eventually forgave my uncle, and the two of us now live in America. I have a wonderful wife and I’m soon to be a father. I’m glad I can give my children the opportunity to grow up here in America, and I owe it all to my heroic uncle. I will always worship him for his courage to go to Afghanistan to save me. There is something that troubles me though; I just can’t understand why he burst out laughing when he was getting the beating of his life.
by Anton Trolleberg
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