She could cheerfully string up every hypocritical bastard who’d constructed a system of government that classified its women somewhere below its goats.
Because they sure as hell treated the goats better.
Focusing on the turquoise-outfitted teen, Jazz leaned back against the desk. Her team tried not to stand or pace. Their standard flak jackets and fatigues created a worrisome enough effect, but their ability to be casual earned them greater access to the secluded minds that fought against hope.
“Badria, your name means moonlike.”
Happiness lightened the girl’s expression. Yes, Jazz had paid attention to their murmured introductions. “The moon is something we study in our science classes and in astronomy. We look to the skies and study the heavens, the stars, the planetary bodies and the universe as a whole, so we can better understand ourselves.”
“The moon is lovely.” Badria’s shy smile widened. “I used to chart its path and its shape to help my mother when I was little.”
“When I was little, I used to climb up onto the roof of my house and stare up at the sky. I would try to pick out all the visible constellations and count the stars. I thought if I could count every star in the sky, I would never be lost.” Jazz gave them an encouraging smile.
“But the number of stars are infinite….” This from the young Anoonseh who wasn’t more than twelve. She ducked away from her mother’s admonishing arm to sidle closer to Badria. “How can you count them all?”
Jazz lifted her hands. “I couldn’t, but that didn’t stop me from trying. In some of our cities, the light is so bright that we cannot see the stars. Sometimes we forget that they are there.”
“You can see them everywhere here.” Anoonseh nodded with the arrogance only a child possessed. “We are better than America, we have more stars.”
Grinning, Jazz slid off the desk and sat down on the floor. “Yes, you do have more stars. Do you like to study the sky, too, Anoonseh?”
“No. I like animals. I want to know how to help them. We lost our cow when her baby would not turn and Tinsah, who knew how to take care of the cow’s problem, was too far away. She is in so much demand.”
“So you want to learn to be a veterinarian?” That didn’t surprise Jazz. In most of the rural communities, the women had more rights than they did in the cities—and in many cases more skills. Since men were forbidden to mingle with women, even in rural areas, the females had to learn how to tend their animals themselves, to care for them and provide medical support if necessary.
“Yes!” Anoonseh bobbed her head but as easily as the excitement rippled across her face, it diminished. “The classes are in Pakistan and I cannot travel that far alone.”
“Perhaps not, but what if we were to bring some female veterinarians here? Would your mother allow you to attend those classes?” It was a careful balancing act to offer freedom with jesses attached. While Jazz addressed the question to Anoonseh and kept her focus on her, she carefully watched her mother staring at the young girl. She definitely wanted it, too.
“If you bring other teachers for science, I will take Anoonseh to veterinarian class, and she can come to my science class and to Shara’s class on teaching. She wishes to become a teacher. Fadwah wishes to learn the counting skills, so she can manage our village’s money.” Badria took a stand and Jazz knew they had them. She’d included many of the girls from her village, creating a community effort. The mothers shifted silently, but hopeful looks passed among them.
They wanted to take advantage of the offers.
“Do any of you know how to write?” As planned, she, Stormer and Roxy stood and collected writing pads and pencils they’d brought with them. Two or three hands rose—including one tentative mother’s—and they passed out the supplies to them. “We will leave you to consider what classes you most wish for, if you will write down your requirements, we can get to work on that for you right away. We would also like contact information. If you write down that information for those who do not know how to write, we can make sure you know when the opportunities will begin.”
No one began writing immediately and likely wouldn’t until they stepped out. Jazz swept another look across the gathering. Gone was the stiff reserve, leaving only wary optimism and curiosity behind. Stormer jerked her chin at the door and Roxy nodded. Jazz picked up her helmet and gathered her gear. They would leave the women to it. The brave and the interested would turn in the information at the designated drop spots, to be gathered later.
Jazz exited the room’s nonexistent air-conditioning and a faint breeze cooled the sweat slicking the back of her neck.