Arifa had lost nearly everything when Marla Ruzicka walked through the
door and into her life. The American intervention in Afghanistan had
started just weeks before. A US bomb missed its target by three miles
and landed instead on Arifa’s home, leaving her a widow at the age of
30. She buried her husband, eldest son and six other family members
under small, chipped stone markers on a dirt street outside Kabul.
To Arifa, Marla must have seemed to be from a different world, and in many ways she was. A quintessential California girl, Marla was gregarious and full of can-do optimism. But Afghanistan was sinking into her skin. The stories of all the wounded civilians deeply affected her as she traveled across the country in 2002. How could it be that her own country had no idea how many people were being harmed by its combat operations? How could it be that their loved ones received nothing for their losses?
To Arifa, Marla must have seemed to be from a different world, and in many ways she was. A quintessential California girl, Marla was gregarious and full of can-do optimism. But Afghanistan was sinking into her skin. The stories of all the wounded civilians deeply affected her as she traveled across the country in 2002. How could it be that her own country had no idea how many people were being harmed by its combat operations? How could it be that their loved ones received nothing for their losses?