從恐懼到希望：一個(gè)孟加拉男孩的奇跡重生（下）

A Simple E-maill

Among the networks that aired Okkhoy’s story was CNN. And among those watching it was a businessman some 8，000 miles away in Columbus， Ohio， named Aram Kovach.

“Usually we see something horrible on TV and we go， ‘Oh goodness， that’s horrible.’But then we move on，” Kovach says.

But this story， he says， “kept getting progressively worse and worse and worse.”

“You got to the end， and I was like， ‘All right， this is unbelievable. We have got to help this kid. We have got to do something.’”

A few days later， Kovach fired off a simple e-mail to CNN.

“I was so moved by this story that for several days now I can’t seem to get it out of my head，” it said. “My wife and I would like to somehow help his family and their little boy.”

Five minutes of television was about to change the lives of two families.

A Worried Father

Inside the Rapid Action Battalion （RAB） compound， where Okkhoy and his family lives， the little boy passes his days kicking around a 1）tattered soccer ball. He rides about on a 2）rickety hand-me-down bicycle. At morning call， he stands at attention beside the soldiers.

“He visits me from time to time. I also visit him from time to time and we play together and discuss many things，” Sohail， the battalion commander says.“Even after such a thing happened in his life， the boy is still laughing.”

But the family， Okkhoy’s father says， is irrevocably torn.

“But back then， life was good，” Abed says.“Even if we ate one meal a day， life was good. Now there is this fear in my heart. Yes， we’re in 3）protective custody. Yes， they’re keeping us safe. But the fear is always there.”

“They destroyed our lives. They destroyed our family. There is no hope for us anymore，” he says.

Okkhoy has never been to school. He has a single-minded goal： He wants to join the battalion—and see his attackers hanged.

“I want to be a RAB member and nothing else，” he says. “When I grow up， I want to bring them to justice.”

Such talk worries his father.

“My biggest fear is that he’ll start to think， ‘I will find the person who did this to me and I will do the same to him.’ He will live in a world of revenge. I don’t want this. I don’t want to be the father of a terrorist.”

A Nagging Question

It’s late afternoon when father and son， accompanied by their court-appointed guardian Alena Khan， fly into Dulles International Airport. It’ll take another hour in rush-hour Friday traffic to arrive at the townhouse near the Baltimore hospital where the family will live for the next month.

“You’ve been on our minds for about a year or so. So， I’m glad to meet you and I’m glad that you are here，” Kovach says when Okkhoy arrives.

Real life sometimes does not 4）live up to the movies.

There are no scenes of an indebted Okkhoy running up and bear-hugging Kovach. He is delighted at the suitcase full of toys the businessman has brought for him， but he is too tired and jetlagged to show it.

His father， too， is weary from the 17-hour flight—and wary about these strangers’motivations.

The next day， as the Kovachs’ take the family sightseeing， Abed decides to ask the question that has 5）gnawed at him.

“I have only one question： Why are you doing this for us？” he asks in Bengali.

“Because I love him，” Kovach says through a translator. “I felt his grief， I felt his pain and I just wanted to do something. I mean， if it was me， I was hoping somebody else would do the same thing for me.”

As he speaks， Abed quietly listens. Tears well in his eyes.

“Thank you， thank you，” he says in broken English.

The two men hug.

“It’s just what we do，” Kovach says. “It’s just what we do as human beings.”

Tears dried and the tension resolved， Abed relaxes and enjoys the day with his son.

They’ve been through a lot—and a lot more lies ahead.

A Trial Awaits

Back home， a difficult trial awaits—one in which Okkhoy will eventually have to take the stand and relive， second by 6）excruciating second， what was done to him.

“We hope that there will be some appropriate punishment，” says Sohail， the battalion commander. “An 7）exemplary punishment for these criminals so that the rest of the country knows.”

The gang， according to battalion officials， has maimed at least five other children—all of them around Okkhoy’s age.

One of the men who confessed told investigators how the gang kept the kids confined for months in tight spaces， or even in barrels， and deprived them of food.

Then they’d send them out to beg.

Each child would bring back the equivalent of about $7 a day. The gang kept all but 25 cents of each 8）haul.

The kids received mere pennies to feed themselves.

Were it not for Okkhoy， the enterprise would carry on.

“He’s the only witness， the only witness who saw everything with his own eyes，” Sohail says. “Without his statement， without him testifying in court， the case cannot be won.”

The Big Day

It’s the morning of the 9）genital surgery， and Okkhoy is up before the sun. If he’s nervous， he doesn’t show it.

He makes faces at the staff， and tries to impress them with the English he’s learned since arriving six days ago. “1， 2， 3， 4，” he counts， holding up his fingers.

It amazes everyone who meets him.

As he is wheeled into the operating room， Okkhoy flashes a thumbs up. As he is laid on the table， he chants， “Go， let’s go！”

“Be brave，” his father urges. “Don’t be worried.”

“I’m not，” he replies. “I have no fear！”

It’s 9 a.m. and a team of doctors and nurses are preparing for a complicated operation that could take eight to 10 hours.

A Promising Future？

Children are resilient， so Okkhoy’s recovery is quick.

He is discharged from the hospital less than a week after the surgery， but needs to remain in the area for three more weeks so doctors can monitor him for 10）infections.

He is restricted from physical activity—which means， he can’t kick his beloved soccer ball around.

That leaves Okkhoy without an excuse when Khan sits him down to tutor him from a picture book of the alphabet.

“A. B. C. D，” Khan points to the letters and reads aloud.

“A， B， Chi ...，” Okkhoy repeats.

“Not Chi. Say ‘C，’” she corrects him.

Khan wants Okkhoy to be the first person in his family to get an education.

“The dream I have for him is that he grows up and devotes his life to the service of people，” she says. “That he sees to it that no one goes through what he went through.”

It is a dream Kovach and his wife share as well. The two want to set up a fund to help make Okkhoy’s schooling possible.

Before he leaves Baltimore， Okkhoy is asked again what he wants to be when he grows up.

Until now， his answer had been the same： a member of the Rapid Action Battalion to avenge his attack.

Not this time.

“I want to become a doctor，” he says without missing a beat， “because I want to save people. And when I do， I won’t take any money from them.”

A hospital staffer suggests that perhaps one day Okkhoy could come work as a surgeon at 11）Johns Hopkins.

“Wouldn’t that be a miracle？” she says.

“This story is full of miracles，” Okkhoy’s father responds.

Who’s to say there won’t be another one？

一封簡單的郵件

美國有線電視新聞網(wǎng)（CNN）是其中一家將歐可伊的故事播報(bào)出來的有線網(wǎng)絡(luò)。而在那些收看了節(jié)目的觀眾中，有一位商人身在約八千英里之外的美國俄亥俄州哥倫布市，他名叫亞拉姆·科瓦什。

“一般情況下，我們在電視上看到某些可怕的新聞，我們會(huì)說：‘哦，天啊，真可怕。’但接著，我們會(huì)繼續(xù)自己的生活?！笨仆呤舱f。

但這個(gè)故事，他說：“不停地變得越來越嚴(yán)重，越來越嚴(yán)重?！?/p>

“看到結(jié)尾，我就想，‘好吧，這真是令人難以置信。我們必須要幫幫這個(gè)孩子。我們必須要做點(diǎn)什么?！?/p>

幾天之后，科瓦什向CNN發(fā)了一封簡單的郵件。

“我被這個(gè)故事深深地打動(dòng)，這么多天過去了，我似乎無法將其從腦海中抹去，”信中寫道?！拔液推拮佣枷胍鳇c(diǎn)什么來幫助他的家庭和他們的小男孩。”

電視上的五分鐘將要改變這兩個(gè)家庭的生活。

一位憂心忡忡的父親

在歐可伊與其家人所居住的快速反應(yīng)營的軍營里，這個(gè)小男孩靠踢著一個(gè)破足球到處跑來打發(fā)時(shí)間。他騎著一輛搖搖晃晃的二手自行車四處溜達(dá)。在清早集合時(shí)，他也在士兵們旁邊立正站好。

“他時(shí)不時(shí)來看我。我也時(shí)不時(shí)去看看他，我們一起玩耍，并討論很多事情，”軍營指揮官索亥爾說?！凹幢阍谒纳锇l(fā)生了這樣的事情，這個(gè)男孩依然在笑著。”

但這個(gè)家庭，歐可伊的父親說，已經(jīng)無可挽回地被撕碎了。

“以前，生活還是不錯(cuò)的，” 阿貝德說?！凹幢阄覀円惶熘荒艹陨弦活D飯，生活也是不錯(cuò)的。如今恐懼在我的心里揮之不去。……