Wednesday
“Have you heard of the Uyghurs?” Grace pronounced it “Weegers.”
It took me a moment to close my wide-open mouth. A double agent? What the hell was going on now? I shook my head.
“They’re an ethnic group in China. There are about ten million of us, including Gregory and myself. Most of us live in the Xinjiang Uyghur Autonomous Region. It’s in southwestern China in a desert called the Tarim Basin. It borders more than half a dozen other countries, by the way, including Russia, Mongolia, Afghanistan, Pakistan, India, even Tibet. But most Uyghurs are descended from Turks, and because of that, they often look more Caucasian than Asian. Like Gregory,” she said wistfully.
Keanu Reeves. I ran my tongue around my lips. How had I never heard of the Uyghurs?
“And”—she hesitated—“we are Muslims. In fact, we are the second-largest Muslim population in China.”
“Oh.”
“The Uyghurs have struggled for independence for years. China won’t allow it, of course, and the government has gone out of its way to discriminate against us.”
“How?”
“Forced abortions, sterilizations. They refuse to let our children go to school. They put restrictions on food. Some Uyghurs have been—how do you say—kicked out of their homes. And then they put us in prison—on trumped-up charges.” She gazed around the temple, as if seeing her homeland through a gauzy curtain of time. “But we have survived. And we have organized demonstrations. Most have been peaceful, but there have been some confrontations with the police.”
“That explains why I’ve never heard of you,” I said. “China having such a free press and all.”
The corners of her lips moved up, as if I’d scored a point. “Now the Chinese government claims we are terrorists.”
“Because you are Muslims.”
She ran a hand through her hair, as if she was struggling with what to say next. “Well, frankly, a few Uyghurs are—or were—militant. So China and the US listed them as terrorists back in 2002.”
“In the wake of 9/11,” I said.
She nodded. “But you see, it was only a tiny percentage of Uyghurs. It is true that China has seen more terrorist attacks recently. But when the government claims that the Uyghurs are responsible, well, that is a lie. They say we are under the influence of Islamic fundamentalists with ties to al-Qaeda and ISIS. They even say we have weapons of mass destruction.”
“How unusual,” I said. “They must have graduated from the Dick Cheney school of diplomacy.”
She almost smiled. Then she gazed around. The family with the whiny kids had disappeared. Only one man remained, and he seemed to be in no hurry to leave. I eyed him.
So did Grace. She took my arm. “Let’s walk.”
We strolled out of the sanctuary and went down a staircase to the lower level. Ahead of us was a tiny theater where a film about the history of the Baha’i faith was playing. She led me inside, and we sat. We were the only ones there.
Grace went on, speaking just above a whisper. “The important thing to understand is that most Uyghurs are willing to maintain their ties to China, if they would just grant us more autonomy. The truth is that the few incidents that have occurred were motivated by the government’s repression, not by terrorism.”
I gazed up at the film, which was showcasing the Baha’i temples around the world. There were only six or seven, and Chicago’s was certainly the most beautiful. “Grace,” I whispered, “what does this have to do with Delcroft?”
“I’m getting to that. As I said, China can’t send in the army to kill us, so they send in drones instead. There have been dozens of drone strikes in the area. My brother was killed in one just recently. He was only nine years old.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“They target madrassas and mosques. China says it is all part of the war on terror. This is why Gregory wanted the anti-drone technology.”
“For the Uyghurs, not the Chinese government?”
“Actually, for both.”