The Deadliest Strain

Chapter Thirty-Five

I'm sorry," Fahimah told him again. 'This is not what you bargained for when you decided to accompany me." "Yes, I did," Austyn said. "Stop apologizing." They had just passed a memorial welcoming visitors to the city. The memorial included the shells of bombs that had been used in the chemical attacks. Black ribbons hung from a sign where name after name of the victims had been listed. Going by it had brought on more tears.

"This is a poor town, he says." She continued to relay what the driver was telling her. "Only twenty percent of the people who lived here in 1988 still live here. Those who stayed were too poor to find a place elsewhere in Kurdistan."

She looked out the windows. The road needed repair. She'd been told that there was a shortage of clean water and electricity.

"There is a great deal of animosity between the people remaining here and the city government," she told him. 'The driver says that back in 2006, there was a massive demonstration in Halabja on the anniversary of the bombing. He says the demonstrators burned the memorial that was dedicated to the victims of the attacks in the city. This is the second memorial they have erected."

"That's sad. I would think that memorial must mean so much to people."

She nodded. 'They were young people without jobs, he says. They were restless and angry. This city hasn't seen any of the rebuilding that has been going on in the rest of Kurdistan."

Fahimah looked at the neighborhoods they were passing. Young children playing in the remains of what were once buildings stood and stared at her as she went by.

"Why do you think this area has suffered so much more?" he asked.

"Probably the major reason this area has suffered is its location near the Iranian border," she told him. "But to understand why the Kurds suffered so badly, one must go back to the black shadow of American foreign policy. In 1975, the Algiers Accord, endorsed by Dr. Kissinger, determined the border between Iraq and Iran. One part of the agreement was that America and Iran would cease their support for the Peshmerga. It was an event that became a defining moment of disaster for the Kurdish independence movement. The Kurdistan Democratic Party, or KDP, collapsed immediately. Mustafa Barzani, the nationalist leader, was forced to flee the country. The socialist Patriotic Union of Kurdistan continued to fight, which is why Saddam's regime targeted this area in the 1980s."

Fahimah stopped short, realizing what she was doing.

"I'm sorry, I'm lecturing."

"I asked. I'm learning," he said cheerfully. "So am I correct to assume Kissinger's name is a curse word in Kurdistan?"

Fahimah nodded. "Yes, for those who know the history. And you would be amazed how many people in this region do know their history. The Algiers Accord is the one topic that can cause a Kurd to become quite anti-American. But when Westerners consider the highlights or lowlights of Kissinger's career — and the lowlights include places like Cambodia, Chile and East Timor — Kurdistan does not draw much attention."

"Until you consider the massacres that followed."

Fahimah bit her lip to calm the satisfaction that she felt in having him understand. He was an American government agent, but he listened to her. He didn't try to think of everything in life simply as a matter of absolutes, in categories of black and white, right or wrong. People made mistakes. Leaders had faults. One had to travel though life with one's eyes open. This was what she had always preached to her students.

It was getting late in the day. They had made one stop just outside of Halabja to have some food. Their driver thought it was better to eat outside of the city.

"Things look worse than they did when I last passed through here."

"When was the last time you were here?" he asked.

"About six years ago."

"Do you know where we're staying tonight?" he asked.

Fahimah saw a machine gun mounted in the wagon of a white Toyota pickup. Peshmerga soldiers were standing next to the truck. The two vehicles making up their caravan beeped their horns at the fighters as they went by.

There used to be a couple of small hotels in Halabja, but she was no longer sure if they still were in operation. She'd told herself she didn't want to get any of her friends involved. That was the reason for the secrecy in leaving Erbil. Now, though, she felt different about introducing Austyn to people she knew. Odd as it was, she trusted him.

"My friend in Erbil told me that a second cousin of mine is living in Halabja only for this summer. She was going to contact her, in case we decided to stay with her."

"What do you think?" he asked.

She was happy that he left the decision to her. "I think it would be okay. She teaches biology at Salahaddin University. But for the summer she is working with an American doctor who's doing some studies in Halabja."

"Do you know what the study is about?" Austyn asked.

She nodded. "They're collecting clinical data about the population. I suppose the study is trying to confirm the links between exposure to chemical weapons and the rates of disease."

"After that lecture you gave me in Erbil, are you telling me that nothing has been done on this before?"

"Of course. This is one of many studies." Fahimah leaned toward the driver and gave him the address that Banoo had given her for the cousin.

"By the way, I don't want to build your hopes up, but I had an idea," she said to Austyn.

"Okay. Shoot."

"I told you about the family Rahaf and I stayed with at Paveh," she told him. "Now, I don't know if they are still living there or if I can get hold of them, but I was thinking of calling them when we get to my cousin's house."

He brightened. "Do you think they might have a more exact address for Rahaf?"

She shrugged. "I don't know, but perhaps. We always tried to stay in touch with them. And I cannot imagine Rahaf working on that side of the border and having no contact with them "

"I think that's a great idea," he said, putting his hand on top of hers.

Fahimah had to fight a sudden flutter in her stomach, and she felt embarrassed about her own reaction.

He squeezed her hand and released it. "So what's your cousin's name?"

"Ashraf," she said. "Dr. Ashraf Banaz."

"Another PhD?"

Fahimah nodded.

"Does every woman in your family have a doctorate?"

She thought about that for a moment. "I don't know. I lost contact with all of them when I was put away. But I do believe we may have a couple of engineers mixed in there."

"Every family has a few black sheep."

"Exactly."