STRANIERA

Part 7

How could I be so naïve. At this moment we are still driving-it has been two hours. Problem? We are not on the road; we are driving through the bushes. And I mean not like on a dirt road, we are literally driving through fields. I cannot see anything through the windows just long green grass, and I do not understand a word this driver is bubbling, and I do not know how this man even knows where he is going. No path, no direction, nothing-just long grass. Everything is adding up: they're kidnapping me. They are going to kill me.

Breathe.Ya not breathing. My hands are starting to cold sweat. I reach out to the radio and turn the music louder; the driver did not do anything about it he just smiled. I take a quick glance at the speed, and he is not driving amazingly fast: 80km/h. I push my back against the car door, until it hurts my spine so that I know my body is steady. Keep in mind I am not wearing shoes and I am still in my onesie. I bend my legs together and push my legs back and forth against the opposite window. With all my might I push with my feet against the window, and it starts to crack, but I do not stop kicking even though my legs start aching.

The breakthru takes place. Glass shatter everywhere on the seat. On the fields ground outside the car. I take a deep breath. The driver looks like he is panicking and is screaming words in his language. WHY ISN'T HE HITTING THE BREAKS? "STEP ON TE BREAKS OR I'LL JUMP OUT OF THIS WINDOW!" I shout at him. He tries to explain something to me in his own language, but I dull him out, everything starts to blur around me, and I jump.

Holy shit that hurts. I landed on my back and a shocking pain trikes trough my spine. And my feet are full of blood from the glass that stabbed into my feet when I kicked the window. I bring myself to sit up and pick the glass out of my feet.

The car has stopped, and I hear the man climbing out of the car, I get up and starts to run towards nothing, just straight. The little glass pieces stab increasingly into my feet, and it hurts like hell. I start to sweat and stop to catch my breath. I start to hear the sound of laughter.

I look up and clean my glasses and blink twice to clear my vision and there stood kids. Playing on the playground, but they come to silence as soon as they see me. I give them a  weak smile as I  walk slowly towards them "Hi guys."I  give little awkward wave.

The just stare at me. Do they even understand English? I dearly hope so, otherwise I am going to need to sell my clothing to be able to buy a plane ticket back home. I shake that negative thought out of my head and investigate an aloof and see my driver and a woman talking. They both looked on edge. I bend over and pick out the last glasses out of my feet and walk towards them.

"Please speak English or even just understand it. Please, please, pleaseee." I mutter to rough myself.

"Hi, I'm Valida." I reach out my hand to greet the woman in front of me. I believe she is the principle. She had a dark tone skin and curly hair and a dark cobalt glass frame, she reminded me of Oprah Winfrey with a touch of poorness. She stops talking to the driver and look at me, "I'm so sorry that you had a bad trip." She starts apologizing, but I stop her right there, so glad she speaks English, so glad! "No, no, no it was a big misunderstanding from my side, I over thought everything. It is my fault the window is broken, come to think of it I could have just opened the window, but I was anxious and did not think straight. I had a rough trip to get here, and I am just really tired and didn't think straight. I am sorry. I will pay back the window. You can just take it away from my salary for this month. And I will never wear these clothes in front of the children, I was late for my plan- "

"It's okay dear." Her voice was soft. "Everything is okay, love. I understand. Welcome to your new home. I will lead you to your new place in a second and yes miss Schoor I will take the window off your salary, because as you can see, we are a poor community and cannot pay the window out of our budget." "Thank you, ma'am," "Ms Geller." "Thank you miss Geller, will you please explain everything to the driver and apologize to him, because I can't speak in Pashto."

"I will do so, and don't worry we are teaching the children English so that they can make a life away from this farm." Luckily, I teach math and it is the same in every language. And then Ms. Geller spoke to the driver, I gave him an awkward hug out of gult and then she walked me to my place.