Only another hundred miles left, and we’ll be in Pakistan

The first thing Masud did, after greeting us, was walk us over to a deserted area of Yezd, where his jeep was parked.

“We are on our way to Pakistan to visit family,” Masud said gruffly. “If we are stopped at the border, that is exactly what you must say: We are on our way to Pakistan to visit family.”

I drew my hijab more tightly around me. The black robe had become somewhat sweaty and rumpled after my long ride in the taxi, but other than that, it made me look exactly the way the Khomeini wanted me to look: like a religious extremist who was completely severed from the outside world.

On top of the hijab, I wore a coat and my backpack. My heart quaked underneath all the layers. I don’t look like the type of girl who cares much about her family in Pakistan, I thought in fear. How will anyone believe me?

Masud seemed to read my thoughts. He held out a shopping bag. “I have four Shalwar Kameez robes in here,” he said. “That’s the national garb in Pakistan. Each of you needs to change into a robe.”

The robes were long and colorful with golden diamond shapes on the front and back. My dress was teal colored, and I smiled as I put it on. The colorful garment was definitely a lot nicer than the austere-looking hijab. Still, I felt like an actor in a play.

Masud looked us over to make sure that we all looked like typical Pakistanis. “Okay, you look fine. Yalla. Into my jeep.”

Masud’s Shalwar Kameez was red. It reminded me of blood and war, and I shivered slightly as I followed him into his vehicle and then settled down under his watchful eye.