Hwang Sok-yong - Princess Bari

“What did you find out?”

“He’s in Pakistan. He’s already been there for over three weeks. He went with four guys from his youth group.”

“Did you find out where exactly he went?”

“Peshawar. One of the guys, Saeed, is from there.”

“Did you get Saeed’s address?”

“Yes, from Saeed’s mother. She asked me to go find him and bring him back.”

It was all but certain that they were headed for Afghanistan, as Peshawar was right on the border, a few hours from Kabul.

Now that Ali knew his younger brother’s whereabouts, there was nothing I could do to stop him; his purpose in going there was to prevent something terrible from happening to his family. I had not yet told Ali, but I was almost three months pregnant at the time. Everyone was anxious to find Usman, so Ali left for Pakistan just a couple of days later. None of us knew it would be a long farewell.

By the following summer, Ali still had not returned; nor had there been any word from him. I gave birth without him, to a baby girl with dark skin and big eyes just like her father’s. I had just turned nineteen.

A new government had been installed in Afghanistan since the beginning of the year, but the news continued to broadcast reports stating that military operations to root out insurgents in the mountains were ongoing. Every day, the television showed refugee camps, torn-up streets and starving children.

I spent two days in the hospital. Grandfather Abdul took Ali’s place and ran around buying baby clothes, baby bottles, diapers and other supplies. He named the baby “Hurriyah”.

“What does hurriyah mean?” I asked him.

“It means freedom .”

I murmured the Korean word for freedom under my breath: jayu . Words need objects to attach to if they’re to be remembered. I thought about the names of the wildflowers that used to brighten the hills at the foot of Mount Baekdu as well as the banks of the Tumen River, where a bleak wind used to blow: purple, yellow and white nancho ; childlike dongja ; starry-eyed wangbyeol ; delicate jebi , named after a bird; eunbangul , which resembled little silver bells; jaunyeong , the tips of their petals dipped in magenta; bristly jilgyeongi , on thick green stems; china-pink paeraengi ; dark purple norugwi; babpul , which looked like they held little grains of rice; and the cute yellow buttercups we called minari ajaebi . The list was endless. I pictured myself running through fields of them with my sisters, and looked down at the baby asleep next to me with her eyes gently closed. To the name Hurriyah, I added the Korean name that signified girl : Suni. I murmured under my breath again: Hurriyah Suni .

Luna dropped by after work each night to fix me some food and help look after the baby. Ali’s parents also came to visit once, with Ali’s younger sisters. At the same time that they were thrilled the baby looked so much like her father, they couldn’t hide their tears. Before they left, Ali’s father hugged me and whispered in my ear:

“Ali’s older brother is going to Pakistan to look for him this summer. He’ll send us good news.”

I just smiled and didn’t say anything; I knew Ali was still alive.

I didn’t go back to work at the salon until the baby was over a hundred days old, but I continued going to Lady Emily’s once a week. Most of the time she only wanted a massage, but some days she would tell me about her dreams instead, or confide in me about her communication with her deceased nanny, Becky. She had several psychic friends, and they all took turns meeting at each other’s houses. Lady Emily had offered to introduce me to the group, but I always found an excuse to decline. One day I arrived at Lady Emily’s house in Holland Park at our scheduled time, only to find Auntie Sarah looking grim.

“Madam is out. She’s gone to Brighton,” she said.

“Did something bad happen?” I asked.

Auntie Sarah lowered her voice: “Her husband’s dead. Shot.”

“What? How …?”

“That little bitch shot him three times.”

Auntie Sarah stopped there and wouldn’t elaborate. I was so shocked that I forgot all about my own worries, and felt bad for Lady Emily. I’d figured her preoccupation with psychics was because of her separation from her husband.

Luna, the baby and I were spending the evening together that night when Grandfather Abdul came downstairs. He stroked Hurriyah Suni’s tiny feet and rubbed his beard against her soft-as-water cheek.

“I need to tell you something,” he began.

“I’ll give you two some privacy,” Luna said. She got up and started to head for the door, but Grandfather Abdul gestured for her to stay.

“It’s okay,” he said. “You two tell each other everything anyway. Ali’s older brother just got back from Pakistan.”

Luna and I exchanged a glance, and both looked expectantly at Grandfather Abdul.

“He confirmed that Ali went from Peshawar to Kabul in search of his brother. Also, Saeed’s uncle, who lives in Peshawar, said that Usman and his friends stayed with him for five days before leaving for Kabul. We know this much because Ali made one phone call from Kabul. But like his younger brother, he hasn’t been heard from since. According to reports, Jalalabad, which is near Kabul, and northern Kunduz were bombed by the Northern Alliance, and a lot of people died or were taken away. I can only hope that they’re still safe somehow.”

I thought to myself: Ali is alive. I can feel it.

It had been months since Ali had left for Afghanistan, with no contact and no trace of his whereabouts, so it was only natural that almost everyone assumed he and his brother were dead. Luna and Grandfather Abdul kept their heads down and wouldn’t look at me or say anything. Lately, everyone had been doing the same whenever Ali came up in conversation. They thought it was too late to try to comfort me by telling me not to worry, that he would be back soon. But I had seen Ali in my dreams. I’d seen Usman as well. Maybe because Ali was my husband, he was always talking or laughing or getting angry, just as in real life, but Usman would only stand at a distance and watch me, or would turn and walk away even as I called out to him.

One day, Auntie Sarah called while I was working at Tongking. It wasn’t Lady Emily’s scheduled day, but she asked me to hurry over. I took a cab. As soon as I walked in, Auntie Sarah gestured for me to follow her upstairs.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

She shook her head and sighed.

“She’s asked me three times whether you’ve arrived yet. She’s a mess. Do whatever you can.”

When I entered the bedroom, the curtains were drawn and the lights were out. The room was completely dark.

Auntie Sarah called out timidly: “Madam, Bari is here.”

“Okay.”

Lady Emily’s voice was very faint. Auntie Sarah gave me a push and disappeared. I kept going in the direction of the push, and came to a stop at the side of the bed. I couldn’t see a thing, so I had to switch on the bedside lamp. A bottle of cognac sat on the nightstand next to a round snifter. Lady Emily was drunk. I crouched down near her pillow.

“Shall I prepare a massage?” I asked.

“That stupid man took three bullets to the back. They told me to ID his body, and then they pulled back the sheet. He’d grown so old in the last few years that I barely recognized him. He had lost so much hair too. And oh, that big belly of his! Hideous.”

I listened quietly. Outside, fat clouds drifted through a clear blue sky, and the leaves on the trees that lined the road were green and beautiful. But Lady Emily lay half-naked, covered only by an untied bathrobe, her limbs splayed. Her sagging breasts were like half-empty leather flasks.