“Let me tell you why we’re so happy to see you. I was born in Bangladesh and received my MBBS in Dhaka. It’s a good medical degree but different from the American one. I moved here ten years ago and spent five years driving a taxi while qualifying for my American MD in obstetrics. For the past five years I’ve had a private practice here in the Bronx. We’ve done well here, but it’s too crowded and noisy. Compared to Dhaka, of course, the Bronx is like an open meadow, but it’s still too much. We always wanted to live out west. We saved our money, worked hard, and now we’re off. I think you have the extra stop listed on your paperwork? The extra stop is my office. We’ll be moving all my medical equipment from there also.”
“That’s a great success story, Doctor. Congratulations,” I replied. “I’m happy for you and your family. How did you come to pick Arizona?”
“Thank you, Finn. I can see you are happy for us, and that makes me happy too. I picked Arizona because my job is to deliver babies. Lots of babies. The more babies the better. I’m good at it. When we started seriously thinking about moving, we looked for places with lots of babies being born without a lot of doctors. It came down to Amish country or Mormon country. We picked the Mormons.”
“Why is that?”
“Because most of the Amish live in Pennsylvania, Ohio, and Indiana. There are pockets everywhere. Sarasota, Florida, has a population; so does Wyoming. But I needed a larger community, and I wanted to be out west.”
“What are the Mormons going to think about a Muslim doctor from Bangladesh delivering their babies?”
“I wondered about that too. I went out there several times and spoke to people in Colorado City about that very issue. Everyone was thrilled. There are not enough doctors out there, especially ob-gyns, and they have lots of babies. Have you ever spent any time with Mormons?”
“I’ve moved lots of Mormons. Corporate America loves them.”
“Do you have a general opinion about them?”
“I have. Every Mormon family I’ve moved has been pleasant and low-keyed. We’re always fed and treated nicely. On the other hand, they have lots of stuff. Tons of food in the basement, toys everywhere, and multiple bedrooms for all the kids.”
“Pleasant and low-keyed. Exactly. We’ll be fine. I bought a beautiful house out there for less than this row house here. Eight bedrooms on ten acres. I’m going to be a cowboy. More coffee?”
“No thanks. We need to get to work. This has been very nice. Thanks again.”
We spent the day packing cartons. I was intrigued by this situation in a couple of ways. First, 22,000 pounds is a lot of stuff for a family with one kid. That mystery was solved when we went into the basement. It was all medical equipment. Examining tables, file cabinets, machines, scales, boxes full of gloves, bandages, everything. The good doctor must have been haunting medical-supply yard sales for years. The other thing was their courage and determination. My own family came from Ireland, and they moved into the Irish ghetto in New York and went to the Irish churches and hung around with other Irish. Coming to America was probably a challenge, but they kept to their social networks, so the culture shock had to have been somewhat muted. These folks were from a far different cultural mileu than any Irish peasant and going it alone out in the Wild West. Reminds me of some of the Chinese. You can go into the furthest reaches of, say, Montana or northwest Ontario and find some little dusty town with a hitching post and a church, and there will be the Chinese restaurant. Inside will be a family with the man in the kitchen, the wife serving tables, and the kids doing homework 500 miles from the next-nearest Chinese person. It takes brass balls to do that. I couldn’t, for sure.
We worked until five, and I took the pack van to my mother’s house in Connecticut. My mom cooked me a steak, and after dinner I looked up Colorado City, Arizona. It was a Mormon town, all right. In fact, it’s ground zero for the plural marriage set. The doc was right; lots of babies. I woke up in the middle of the night, and that’s when the penny dropped. I couldn’t wait to talk to Nobel the next day.
We started day two with coffee again. Ranya had diffidently asked us not to pack the coffee set until the very end. There we were, in the living room, sitting on the sofa, and I put it to the doc straight up. “Say, Dr. Dewan, I looked up Colorado City last night. You’re right, they have lots of babies there. Apparently the reason for that is that lots of the guys out there have lots of wives. I suppose you knew that.”
“Yes, I knew that.” A smile began pushing at the corners of his mouth.
“And you bought a house with eight bedrooms for you and Ranya and Rafik?”
“I did.” His smile was getting broader.
“I’ll be damned. You’re planning on starting a little dynasty out there, aren’t you? When do your wives start coming in from Dhaka?”
“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.” He was beaming at me. “Do you disapprove?”
“I have no dog in the hunt one way or another. I’m just amazed at the brilliance and audacity of the plan.”
“Yes. It will work. We will hide in plain sight among the FLDS. They really are thrilled about us coming because they do need doctors. They’re patient people. They probably envision a bunch of brown Mormons in a generation or two. That could happen. Of course, Muslims can be patient people too. Inshallah.”
I started laughing. Ranya blushed. Dr. Dewan turned his face back to me, grinning from ear to ear, pinning me with those sparkling, merry eyes.
“More coffee, Finn?”
Chapter 9
INVISIBLE MEN
My first year back on the road was mostly a fun adventure. For the first month I had my nephew with me, which helped a lot. He had been a mover during his college days and was between jobs. My first load was a nice one for Bechtel Corp. out of Tampa for Hanford, Washington. Bechtel had received a $10 billion contract to stop a plume of radioactive groundwater from reaching the Columbia River. My shipper was an engineer on the project. From Hanford, I picked up another full load in Seattle for Los Angeles. I’d gotten my mountain-driving chops back after successfully navigating Deadman Pass (aka Cabbage) into Pendleton, Oregon, Snoqualmie Pass into Seattle, and Tejon Pass (Grapevine) into Los Angeles. I’m more comfortable with mountain driving these days, but I’ve no desire to drive in the ice and snow ever again.