"How long will you be gone?" she'd asked when Tariq hadtold her that his parents were taking him south, to the city ofGhazni, to visit his paternal1 uncle.
"Thirteen days.""Thirteen days?""It's not so long. You're making a face, Laila.""I am not.""You're not going to cry, are you?""I am not going to cry! Not over you. Not in a thousandyears."She'd kicked at his shin, not his artificial but his real one, andhe'd playfully whacked2 the back of her head.
Thirteen days. Almost two weeks. And, just five days in, Lailahad learned a fundamental truth about time: Like the accordionon which Tariq's father sometimes played old Pashto songs,time stretched and contracted depending on Tariq's absence orpresence-Downstairs, her parents were fighting. Again. Lailaknew the routine: Mammy, ferocious3, indomitable, pacing andranting; Babi, sitting, looking sheepish and dazed, noddingobediently, waiting for the storm to pass. Laila closed her doorand changed. But she could still hear them. She could stillhearher Finally, a door slammed. Pounding footsteps. Mammy'sbed creaked loudly. Babi, it seemed, would survive to seeanother day.
"Laila!" he called now. "I'm going to be late for work!""One minute!"Laila put on her shoes and quickly brushed hershoulder-length, blond curls in the mirror. Mammy always toldLaila that she had inherited her hair color-as well as herthick-lashed, turquoise4 green eyes, her dimpled cheeks, her highcheekbones, and the pout5 of her lower lip, which Mammyshared-from her great-grandmother, Mammy's grandmother.Shewas a pari,a stunner, Mammy said.Her beauty was the talk ofthe valley. It skipped two generations of women in our family,but it sure didn't bypass you, Laila The valley Mammy referredto was the Panjshir, the Farsi-speaking Tajik region onehundred kilometers northeast of Kabul. Both Mammy and Babi,who were first cousins, had been born and raised in Panjshir;they had moved to Kabul back in 1960 as hopeful, bright-eyednewlyweds when Babi had been admitted to Kabul University.
Laila scrambled6 downstairs, hoping Mammy wouldn't come outof her room for another round. She found Babi kneeling bythe screen door.
"Did you see this, Laila?"The rip in the screen had been there for weeks. Lailahunkered down beside him. "No. Must be new.""That's what I told Fariba." He looked shaken, reduced, as healways did after Mammy was through with him. "She says it'sbeen letting in bees."Laila's heart went out to him. Babi was a small man, withnarrow shoulders and slim, delicate hands, almost like awoman's. At night, when Laila walked into Babi's room, shealways found the downward profile of his face burrowing7 into abook, his glasses perched on the tip of his nose. Sometimes hedidn't even notice that she was there. When he did, hemarked his page, smiled a close-lipped, companionable smile.
Babi knew most of Rumi's and Hafez'sghazals by heart. Hecould speak at length about the struggle between Britain andczarist Russia over Afghanistan. He knew the differencebetween a stalactite and a stalagmite, and could tell you thatthe distance between the earth and the sun was the same asgoing from Kabul to Ghazni one and a half million times. But ifLaila needed the lid of a candy jar forced open, she had to goto Mammy, which felt like a betrayal. Ordinary tools befuddledBabi. On his watch, squeaky door hinges never got oiled.
Ceilings went on leaking after he plugged them. Mold thriveddefiantly in kitchen cabinets. Mammy said that before he leftwith Noor to join the jihad against the Soviets9, back in 1980, itwas Ahmad who had dutifully and competently minded thesethings.
"But if you have a book that needs urgent reading," she said,"then Hakim is your man."Still, Laila could not shake the feeling that at one time, beforeAhmad and Noor had gone to war against the Soviets-beforeBabi hadlet them go to war-Mammy too had thought Babi'sbookishness endearing, that, once upon a time, she too hadfound his forgetfulness and ineptitude10 charming.
"So what is today?" he said now, smiling coyly. "Day five? Oris it six?""What do I care? I don't keep count," Laila lied, shrugging,loving him for remembering- Mammy had no idea that Tariqhad left.
"Well, his flashlight will be going off before you know it," Babisaid, referring to Laila and Tariq's nightly signaling game. Theyhad played it for so long it had become a bedtime ritual, likebrushing teeth.
Babi ran his finger through the rip. "I'll patch this as soon asI get a chance. We'd better go." He raised his voice and calledover his shoulder, "We're going now, Fariba! I'm taking Laila toschool. Don't forget to pick her up!"Outside, as she was climbing on the carrier pack of Babi'sbicycle, Laila spotted11 a car parked up the street, across fromthe house where the shoemaker, Rasheed, lived with hisreclusive wife. It was a Benz, an unusual car in thisneighborhood, blue with a thick white stripe bisecting the hood12,the roof, and the trunk. Laila could make out two men sittinginside, one behind the wheel, the other in the back.
"Who are they?" she said.
"It's not our business," Babi said. "Climb on, you'll be late forclass."Laila remembered another fight, and, that time, Mammy hadstood over Babi and said in a mincing13 way,That's yourbusiness, isn't it, cousin? To make nothing your business. Evenyour own sons going to war. Howl pleaded with you. Bui youburied your nose in those cursed books and let our sons golike they were a pair of haramis.
Babi pedaled up the street, Laila on the back, her armswrapped around his belly14. As they passed the blue Benz, Lailacaught a fleeting15 glimpse of the man in the backseat: thin,white-haired, dressed in a dark brown suit, with a whitehandkerchief triangle in the breast pocket. The only other thingshe had time to notice was that the car had Herat licenseplates.
They rode the rest of the way in silence, except at the turns,where Babi braked cautiously and said, "Hold on, Laila. Slowingdown. Slowing down. There."* * *In class that day, Laila found it hard to pay attention,between Tariq's absence and her parents' fight. So when theteacher called on her to name the capitals of Romania andCuba, Laila was caught off guard.
The teacher's name was Shanzai, but, behind her back, thestudents called her Khala Rangmaal, Auntie Painter, referring tothe motion she favored when she slapped students-palm, thenback of the hand, back and forth16, like a painter working abrush. Khala Rangmaal was a sharp-faced young woman withheavy eyebrows17. On the first day of school, she had proudlytold the class that she was the daughter of a poor peasantfrom Khost. She stood straight, and wore her jet-black hairpulled tightly back and tied in a bun so that, when KhalaRangmaal turned around, Laila could see the dark bristles18 onher neck. Khala Rangmaal did not wear makeup19 or jewelry20.
She did not cover and forbade the female students from doingit. She said women and men were equal in every way andthere was no reason women should cover if men didn't.
She said that the Soviet8 union was the best nation in theworld, along with Afghanistan. It was kind to its workers, andits people were all equal. Everyone in the Soviet union washappy and friendly, unlike America, where crime made peopleafraid to leave their homes. And everyone in Afghanistan wouldbe happy too, she said, once the antiprogressives, the backwardbandits, were defeated.
"That's why our Soviet comrades came here in 1979. To lendtheir neighbor a hand. To help us defeat these brutes21 whowant our country to be a backward, primitive22 nation. And youmust lend your own hand, children. You must report anyonewho might know about these rebels. It's your duty. You mustlisten, then report. Even if it's your parents, your uncles oraunts. Because none of them loves you as much as yourcountry does. Your country comes first, remember! I will beproud of you, and so will your country."On the wall behind Khala Rangmaal's desk was a map of theSoviet union, a map of Afghanistan, and a framed photo ofthe latest communist president, Najibullah, who, Babi said, hadonce been the head of the dreaded23 KHAD, the Afghan secretpolice. There were other photos too, mainly of young Sovietsoldiers shaking hands with peasants, planting apple saplings,building homes, always smiling genially24.
"Well," Khala Rangmaal said now, "have I disturbed yourdaydreaming,Inqilabi Girl?"This was her nickname for Laila, Revolutionary Girl, becauseshe'd been born the night of the April coup25 of 1978-exceptKhala Rangmaal became angry if anyone in her class used thewordcoup. What had happened, she insisted, was aninqilab, arevolution, an uprising of the working people againstinequality.Jihad was another forbidden word. According to her,there wasn't even a war out there in the provinces, justskirmishes against troublemakers26 stirred by people she calledforeign provocateurs. And certainly no one,no one, dared repeatin her presence the rising rumors27 that, after eight years offighting, the Soviets were losing this war. Particularly now thatthe American president, Reagan, had started shipping28 theMujahideen Stinger Missiles to down the Soviet helicopters, nowthat Muslims from all over the world were joining the cause:
Egyptians, Pakistanis, even wealthy Saudis, who left their millionsbehind and came to Afghanistan to fight the jihad.
"Bucharest. Havana," Laila managed.
"And are those countries our friends or not?""They are,moolim sahib. They are friendly countries."Khala Rangmaal gave a curt29 nod.
* * *When school let out. Mammy again didn't show up like shewas supposed to. Laila ended up walking home with two ofher classmates, Giti and Hasina.
Giti was a tightly wound, bony little girl who wore her hair intwin ponytails held by elastic30 bands. She was always scowling,and walking with her books pressed to her chest, like a shield.
Hasina was twelve, three years older than Laila and Giti, buthad failed third grade once and fourth grade twice. What shelacked in smarts Hasina made up for in mischief31 and a mouththat, Giti said, ran like a sewing machine. It was Hasina whohad come up with the Khala Rangmaal nickname-Today, Hasinawas dispensing32 advice on how to fend33 off unattractive suitors.
"Foolproof method, guaranteed to work. I give you my word.""This is stupid. I'm too young to have a suitor!" Giti said.
"You're not too young.""Well, no one's come to ask formy hand.""That's because you have a beard, my dear."Giti's hand shot up to her chin, and she looked with alarm toLaila, who smiled pityingly-Giti was the most humorless personLaila had ever met-and shook her head with reassurance34.
"Anyway, you want to know what to do or not, ladies?""Go ahead," Laila said.
"Beans. No less than four cans. On the evening the toothlesslizard comes to ask for your hand. But the timing35, ladies, thetiming is everything- You have to suppress the fireworks 'til it'stime to serve him his tea.""I'll remember that," Laila said.
"So will he."Laila could have said then that she didn't need this advicebecause Babi had no intention of giving her away anytimesoon. Though Babi worked at Silo, Kabul's gigantic breadfactory, where he labored36 amid the heat and the hummingmachinery stoking the massive ovens and mill grains all day, hewas a university-educated man. He'd been a high schoolteacher before the communists fired him-this was shortly afterthe coup of 1978, about a year and a half before the Sovietshad invaded. Babi had made it clear to Laila from ayoung agethat the most important thing in his life, after her safety, washer schooling37.
I know you're still young, bull waniyou to understand andlearn this now,he said.Marriage can wait, education cannotYou're a very, very bright girl. Truly, you are. You can beanything you want, Laila I know this about you. And I alsoknow that when this war is over, Afghanistan is going to needyou as much as its men, maybe even more. Because a societyhas no chance of success if its women are uneducated, LailaNo chance.
But Laila didn't tell Hasina that Babi had said these things, orhow glad she was to have a father like him, or how proudshe was of his regard for her, or how determined38 she was topursue her education just as he had his. For the last twoyears, Laila had received theawal numra certificate, given yearlyto the top-ranked student in each grade.
She said nothing of these things to Hasina, though, whoseown father was an ill-tempered taxi driver who in two or threeyears would almost certainly give her away. Hasina had toldLaila, in one of her infrequent serious moments, that it hadalready been decided39 that she would marry a first cousin whowas twenty years older than her and owned an auto40 shop inLahore.I've seen him twice, Hasina had said.Both times he atewith his mouth open.
"Beans, girls," Hasina said. "You remember that. Unless, ofcourse"-here she flashed an impish grin and nudged Laila withan elbow-"it's your young handsome, one-legged prince whocomes knocking- Then…"Laila slapped the elbow away. She would have taken offense41 ifanyone else had said that about Tariq. But she knew thatHasina wasn't malicious42. She mocked-it was what she did-andher mocking spared no one, least of all herself.
"You shouldn't talk that way about people!" Giti said.
"What people is that?""People who've been injured because of war," Giti saidearnestly, oblivious43 to Hasina's toying.
"I think Mullah Giti here has a crush on Tariq. I knew it! Ha!
But he's already spoken for, don't you know? Isn't he, Laila?""I do not have a crush. On anyone!"They broke off from Laila, and, still arguing this way, turnedin to their street.
Laila walked alone the last three blocks. When she was onher street, she noticed that the blue Benz was still parkedthere, outside Rasheed and Mariam's house. The elderly man inthe brown suit was standing44 by the hood now, leaning on acane, looking up at the house.
That was when a voice behind Laila said, "Hey. Yellow Hair.
Look here."Laila turned around and was greeted by the barrel of a gun.
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1
paternal
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| adj.父亲的，像父亲的，父系的，父方的 | |
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whacked
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| a.精疲力尽的 | |
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ferocious
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| adj.凶猛的，残暴的，极度的，十分强烈的 | |
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turquoise
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| n.绿宝石；adj.蓝绿色的 | |
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pout
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| v.撅嘴；绷脸；n.撅嘴；生气，不高兴 | |
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6
scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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burrowing
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| v.挖掘（洞穴），挖洞( burrow的现在分词 )；翻寻 | |
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Soviet
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| adj.苏联的，苏维埃的；n.苏维埃 | |
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soviets
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| 苏维埃（Soviet的复数形式） | |
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ineptitude
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| n.不适当；愚笨，愚昧的言行 | |
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spotted
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| adj.有斑点的，斑纹的，弄污了的 | |
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hood
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| n.头巾，兜帽，覆盖；v.罩上，以头巾覆盖 | |
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mincing
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| adj.矫饰的；v.切碎；切碎 | |
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belly
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| n.肚子，腹部；(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分，膛 | |
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fleeting
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| adj.短暂的，飞逝的 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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bristles
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| 短而硬的毛发，刷子毛( bristle的名词复数 ) | |
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makeup
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| n.组织；性格；化装品 | |
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jewelry
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| n.（jewllery）（总称）珠宝 | |
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brutes
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| 兽( brute的名词复数 )； 畜生； 残酷无情的人； 兽性 | |
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primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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dreaded
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| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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genially
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| adv.亲切地，和蔼地；快活地 | |
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coup
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| n.政变；突然而成功的行动 | |
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troublemakers
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| n.惹是生非者，捣乱者( troublemaker的名词复数 ) | |
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rumors
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| n.传闻( rumor的名词复数 )；[古]名誉；咕哝；[古]喧嚷v.传闻( rumor的第三人称单数 )；[古]名誉；咕哝；[古]喧嚷 | |
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28
shipping
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| n.船运（发货，运输，乘船） | |
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curt
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| adj.简短的，草率的 | |
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elastic
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| n.橡皮圈，松紧带；adj.有弹性的；灵活的 | |
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mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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32
dispensing
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| v.分配( dispense的现在分词 )；施与；配（药） | |
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fend
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| v.照料（自己），（自己）谋生，挡开，避开 | |
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reassurance
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| n.使放心，使消除疑虑 | |
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timing
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| n.时间安排，时间选择 | |
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36
labored
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| adj.吃力的，谨慎的v.努力争取(for)( labor的过去式和过去分词 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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schooling
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| n.教育；正规学校教育 | |
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38
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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40
auto
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| n.(=automobile)(口语)汽车 | |
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offense
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| n.犯规，违法行为；冒犯，得罪 | |
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42
malicious
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| adj.有恶意的，心怀恶意的 | |
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43
oblivious
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| adj.易忘的，遗忘的，忘却的，健忘的 | |
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44
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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