Shadow

“A man’s mother sat there, shoulders slumped, Stony-faced, sad and silent. She had deep, dark rings under her eyes, and seemed locked inside herself. As for Aman, he was even smaller than I remembered, and pinched and thin like a whippet. His eyes were pools of loneliness and despair.

I kept trying to tell myself, don’t pity them. They don’t want that, they don’t need that, and they’ll know it at once if you do. They’re not victims, they’re people. Try to find something in common.”

Grandpa can see the effects that their unjust imprisonment has had on Aman and his mother: They have almost given up hope. He is careful to treat them with respect, distinguishing pity from dignity. The simile “thin like a whippet” highlights the physical toll of the imprisonment, while the metaphor comparing Aman’s eyes to “pools of loneliness and despair” highlights the psychological impact on Aman.

“‘If you count the players,’ he went on, ‘you will see there are only 10 of them. There should be eleven. I’m the one that is missing. That’s Marlon, centre forward, twenty-seven goals last year, as good as Rooney, better even. And the tall one, like a giraffe—next to Matt at the back, that’s Flat Stanley, our goalie, the one grinning all over his face and giving me the thumbs up. Can you see him?’

I could see him, right in the middle of the top row, holding up a huge banner that read, WE WANT YOU BACK.”

Aman’s narration reveals his lingering connection to his life outside the detention center, with the symbol of the missing 11th player emphasizing this. The photograph of his soccer team represents the love and support he has in Manchester and shows that he has built a full life since coming to England six years ago. His tone—especially when he describes Flat Stanley—shows his affection for his friends and his life in England.

“After that there were just the three of us left in the cave, Mother, Grandmother, and me. Four months after father was taken away, grandmother would spend her days lying on the mattress in the corner, and mother would sit there beside her, gazing at nothing, hardly speaking. It was up to me now to find enough rice or bread to live on. I begged for it. I stole it. I had to. I fetched the water from the stream, a long walk down the hill and a long walk up, and I tried to bring in enough sticks to keep the fire going.”

Aman’s father’s murder at the hands of the Taliban inflicts a deep emotional scar on Aman and his family, plunging his mother and grandmother into a deep depression. Aman is forced into a caregiving role, and the repetition of “I” in consecutive sentences emphasizes the burden that this places on him at a very young age. Aman’s persistence highlights the theme of Perseverance in the Face of Hardship.

“I shouted at her to go away—you understand, we do not have dogs inside our homes in Afghanistan. Dogs have to live outside with the other animals. Of course, I have lived here a long time now, and I know that in England it is different. Some people here like dogs better than they like children. Actually, I think if I was a dog, they would not shut me up in here like this.”

Locked inside Yarl’s Wood, Aman’s bitter reflection critiques the selective empathy he has noticed in England. His statement “If I was a dog” emphasizes the cruelty of his own situation as he realizes that refugees like him do not elicit the compassion that the English reserve for animals.

“‘One day,’ Grandmother would read out, ‘you must all come to England. You can live in our house. Mina and I have plenty of room for everyone. There is no war here, no fighting. My taxi business is good now. I have money I could send. I could help you come.’”

Thanks to Uncle Mir’s letters, England becomes a beacon of hope for Aman, symbolic of imagined safety and opportunity. The phrase “no war here, no fighting” contrasts sharply with the dangers that Aman and his family face in Bamiyan.

“‘The Taliban, they are still here, Aman,’ she said, and she could not stop herself from crying now. ‘They are everywhere, in the police in the army, like wolves in sheep’s clothing. Everyone knows who they are, and everyone is too frightened to speak. That man in the market, he was one of those who came to the cave and took your father away, and killed him.’”

Aman’s mother uses the idiom “wolves in sheep’s clothing” to describe how the Taliban still covertly hold positions of power within Afghanistan, though they were officially deposed following the American invasion. The former Taliban member in Bamiyan remembers Mr. Khan’s complicity with the American troops, making it dangerous for Aman and his mother to remain in the country. The danger they face shows that they have a legitimate case for asylum.

“‘Walk tall, Aman. Do not bow your head,’ she said. ‘We are Hazara. We will not cry. We will not let them see us cry. God will look after us.’”

Aman’s mother’s directive that he “[w]alk tall” reclaims their dignity in the face of ethnic persecution. She frames their composure as an act of resistance, highlighting the theme of perseverance in the face of hardship. Even though they have been robbed of all their money, she refuses to give their persecutors the satisfaction of seeing them cry.

“‘At least,’ said Mother, ‘at least, we have one friend left in this world. She has great courage, this dog. I was wrong about her. I think maybe this dog is not like other dogs. She may be a stranger, but as such we should welcome her, and look after her. She may be a dog, but I think she is more like a friend than a dog, like a friendly shadow that does not want to leave us. You never lose your shadow.’

‘That is what we should call her then,’ I told her. ‘Shadow. We’ll call her shadow.’”

The spaniel proves herself a loyal friend to Aman and his mother by sticking by their side throughout their many tribulations in the desert, emphasizing The Bond Between People and Dogs. Her loyalty is so intense that even Aman’s mother takes a liking to her. By giving the dog an appropriately symbolic name, Shadow, they have properly inducted her into their family.

“‘They use dogs like this to find roadside bombs, to sniff them out,’ he said, shaking his head sadly. ‘Those soldiers, the foreign soldiers, they all look so much the same in their helmets, and some of them are so young. Just boys most of them, far from home, and too young to die.’”

The friendly Hazara man whom Aman and his mother meet gives them a clue about Shadow’s origin and humanizes the soldiers she once served with. His statement that they are “[j]ust boys […] and too young to die” emphasizes their similarities with Aman, showing how war takes a toll on both sides. Shadow’s loyalty to both Aman and Sergeant Brodie also highlights their similarities despite their political differences.

“There is no doubt about it. We all know this dog. That dog, she is called Polly, and she’s sniffed out more roadside bombs—the army calls them IEDs, Improvised Explosive Devices—than any other dog in the whole army. Seventy-five. Today was the seventy-sixth. And that dog disappeared, the Sergeant says, about 14 months ago. He was there when it happened. And so was I.”

The revelation that Shadow is a bomb-sniffing dog for the British Army explains much of her behavior during Aman’s dangerous trek through the desert. Shadow’s insistence on running ahead and waiting for Aman and his mother to catch up shows that she was actually making sure that their path was safe. Shadow may have very well saved their lives.

“About Polly. I’m sorry, Aman, but she has to stay here. She’s an army dog. Maybe you can come and see her again, when you get to England, I mean. How’d that be?”

The moment when Aman is forced to part with Shadow is emotionally powerful since she has been a source of comfort and stability in his dangerous world. However, his relationship with Shadow connects him to Sergeant Brodie, who reveals himself to be a fair and respectful man as he promises Aman a reunion with Shadow. Ultimately, he proves himself true to his word, highlighting The Power of Friendship.

“Mother says she had to come and tell you herself that we cannot go back to Afghanistan, that the police would torture her again. She says the Taliban are not defeated, they are everywhere, in the police, everywhere. They will kill her, just like they killed Father. She says we have been living in England for six years now. This is our home. She says our lawyer cannot help us anymore, that the government won’t even let us appeal. She has prayed to God that you will be able to help us. Her dream tells her you will, but she has to come ask you herself, to beg you to make her dream come true.”

Aman’s summary of his mother’s plea highlights the theme of perseverance in the face of hardship. Her mention of dreams and God shows that her faith sustains her hope. Aman appeals to Grandpa’s sense of justice by pointing out the dangers that he and his mother face if they are forced to return to Afghanistan.

“He knelt down to show me how it worked on the floor, telling everyone about how his grandpa worked on the trains in Pakistan. And, in secret, I showed him the silver-star badge Sergeant Brodie had given me. Ahmed loved looking at it. He was full of questions about it, about everything. He liked me, he said, because I had a name that sounded like his. It wasn’t long before we were all telling one another our stories. To begin with, Ahmed and me, we laughed a lot, and played about, and that cheered everyone up. But it didn’t last. I think our laughter lasted about as long as the fruit and water.”

Aman’s description of his brief time with Ahmed is a grim reminder of the dangers that children face as refugees, but it also demonstrates how children are able to make the best of any situation due to their imagination and innocence. Ahmed’s toy train, like Aman’s silver star, is an emotional anchor and a symbol of innocence amid trauma.

“The fixers might get you on a lorry, they said, but the police and immigration people were very thorough these days, and they checked all the lorries, every one of them. We’d be lucky to get through. The last two times this old couple tried, this was how they’d been caught. They had a plan, they told us. It might work, it might not, but all they were sure of was that it was a lot better than chancing it again in the back of a lorry. There was nothing to pay, they said, when Mother asked them. We were all Afghans, weren’t we? All brothers and sisters together.”

The old couple from Kabul show Aman and his mother empathy, not just as refugees but as fellow Afghans. They might not be Hazara, but beyond their home country’s borders, their national identity is more important than their ethnic identity. Their decision to help Aman and his mother and their statement that they are all “brothers and sisters” show their unity and human compassion.

“I go to school at Belmont Academy now. I like just about everything, except Home Economics. I’ve got my GCSEs next year, and I’m doing my Maths this year, a year early, because I’m good at Maths. Mr. Bell—he’s my Maths teacher—says I’ll be good enough to go to university later, if I work hard. That was the plan anyway. Mother wants me to go to university as well, so that I can become an engineer, which is what I want to be. I want to build bridges. I love bridges. I’m not much good at English. I can speak it OK, but my spelling’s no good.”

Aman has completely assimilated into English society: Aside from his legal status, he is a normal English teenager, as evidenced by his dreams and ambitions. Even his teachers recognize that he has a bright future. However, all of this is in jeopardy because of his status as a refugee.

“They wanted Mother and me to be in different rooms. They said I was too old to be in with her. I told them I was staying with her, to look after her, no matter what, that I’d been with her all my life, and there was no way we were going to be parted. We said we’d both go on hunger strike if they did that. We made such a fuss and noise about it that in the end they let us stay together. That was when we learned not to give in, not ever.”

Aman and his mother take the success of their hunger strike as a lesson to never give up hope and to never stop resisting injustice. This attitude helps them to ultimately achieve their freedom. Their commitment to stay together, making “a fuss and a noise about it,” demonstrates their agency even within imprisonment.

“‘She won’t answer me,’ Aman said. ‘It’s a rule she made when we came here, that with her I must always speak Dari. She says I must never forget we are Hazara, and if I speak the language, I never will. And I tell her we have to speak English because we are English also. We are both. We argue about it, don’t we Mother?’”

As a teenager in a new society, Aman runs the risk of losing touch with his cultural roots. His mother fears this because despite the dangers and tribulations they suffered in Afghanistan, their home country and culture are still a core part of their identity. By only speaking Dari with her son, Aman’s mother resists cultural erasure, while Aman’s push for English reflects his adaptation to his new homeland. Their disagreement captures the tension between assimilation and identity preservation.

“‘I don’t know if I can do it, Matt,’ he said. ‘He likes the idea of the story, he’s really excited about it. He says if I get it right it could be front page news. But if we want it in tomorrow’s paper, he says I’ve got 2 hours to get it done. 1500 words, and he has to have it by six o’clock at the very latest.’

‘So?’ I said, with a shrug. ‘What’s your problem, Grandpa? How many times have you told me to stop procrastinating, and get on with my homework?’”

Grandpa’s self-doubt causes him to waver at the magnitude of the writing task before him. However, Matt, with his youthful pragmatism, echoes Grandpa’s own advice and inspires him to complete the task. He proves Grandpa’s earlier reflection that being around Matt keeps him feeling young.

“‘I mean, why?’ Uncle Mir Went on, and he was getting more and more upset. ‘Why wouldn’t this Sergeant Brodie write back? And when you think what Aman did that day? He saved their lives, for God’s sake.’ His wife was trying to calm him down, but Uncle Mir wasn’t listening to her. ‘With friends like that soldier, who needs enemies?’ he said bitterly.’”

Uncle Mir fills in a part of Aman’s story that Aman did not relay to Grandpa, revealing that Sergeant Brodie never responded to Aman’s letters—even the ones asking for his support in his asylum case. Aman’s positive depiction of Brodie to Grandpa did not even hint at the disappointment he felt because the sergeant, whom he viewed as a hero, had let him down. This shows that Aman is still fond of Brodie and is reluctant to betray him despite Brodie’s inexplicable silence. This highlights the depth of his emotional attachment to Brodie and develops the theme of the power of friendship.

“Apparently we had been on national television and radio for the lunchtime news, and of course the newspaper story had been out there for several hours by now, with its invitation for anyone and everyone to join us. And they were joining us now, more and more all the time, more than we could have ever believed possible. This wasn’t just a small protest demonstration anymore it was becoming a huge crowd, shouting, chanting, Mexican-waving crowd. This was the real thing, a proper protest. There were enough of us there by now for everyone to know we meant it, that we weren’t going away.”

The juxtaposition of the sentences that begin “[t]his was” and “[t]his wasn’t” captures the difference between the humble beginnings of the protest with its swelling crowds and momentum. As the crowd grows, so, too, does the hope that they can actually help Aman and his mother. This passage demonstrates the theme of the power of friendship as Grandpa’s article unites a crowd of like-minded individuals to fight for justice.

“I am Inspector Smallwood, and I have just been informed that Mrs. Khan and her son Aman left Yarl’s Wood Detention Centre early this morning. They were taken to Heathrow Airport to be put on a flight to Kabul. So, I have to tell you that these individuals are no longer here. They have already been removed.”

Inspector Smallwood’s flat tone contrasts sharply with the joy and excitement of the protest, underscoring the bureaucratic coldness of the detention system. The passive construction—“have been removed”—deflects accountability, portraying Smallwood as the messenger rather than an actor. This moment deflates the hope built in the previous passage.

“The best moment for me, for Grandpa, and for Uncle Mir and his family, for everyone in the crowd, came an hour or so later when we saw a car coming up the road towards us. We could see Aman and his mother waving to us from inside. Aman jumped out, saw Shadow, and ran over to her at once. He crouched down, put his arms around her and held her. I was right there beside them, the football team all around, all of us together again.”

Aman and Shadow’s reunion after six years is a moment of catharsis. The image of his friends—Matt and the soccer team—encircling Aman and Shadow shows his reintegration in their midst. Shadow remembers Aman, demonstrating the bond between people and dogs, while the presence and joy of Aman’s friends highlights the power of friendship.

“No one’s fault, Aman. The bomb’s fault. The war’s fault. And anyway, we met up in the end, didn’t we? ‘You got to look on the bright side, there’s always someone worse off than yourself’—that’s what my grandma always used to say. And she was right. It could have been a lot worse for me—for some of the lads it was a lot worse. When they brought me home, after I was wounded, when I was in the hospital, I told Jess all about you and Shadow, and she decided to call her Shadow from then on. She couldn’t be Polly to either of us anymore. Shadow’s my eyes now, and that’s only thanks to you, son.”

Sergeant Brodie assigns the responsibility for his injuries to systems—“The bomb’s fault. The war’s fault”—rather than to individuals. By officially renaming Polly, Sergeant Brodie and Jess honored the bond that Aman has with the dog. Brodie thanks Aman for caring for Shadow when she came to him lost and injured, treating him as an equal who deserves his respect, which contrasts hugely with the inhumane treatment to which Aman was subject at the detention center.