January1989One cold, overcast¹ day in January 1989, three months beforeLaila turned eleven, she, her parents, and Hasina went towatch one of the last Soviet² convoys³ exit the city. Spectatorshad gathered on both sides of the thoroughfare outside theMilitary Club near Wazir Akbar Khan. They stood in muddysnow and watched the line of tanks, armored trucks, and jeepsas light snow flew across the glare of the passing headlights.
There were heckles and jeers⁴. Afghan soldiers kept people offthe street. Every now and then, they had to fire a warningshot.
Mammy hoisted⁵ a photo of Ahmad and Noor high over herhead. It was the one of them sitting back-to-back under thepear tree. There were others like her, women with pictures oftheirshaheed husbands, sons, brothers held high.
Someone tapped Laila and Hasina on the shoulder. It wasTariq.
"Where did you get that thing?" Hasina exclaimed.
"I thought I'd come dressed for the occasion." Tariq said. Hewas wearing an enormous Russian fur hat, complete withearflaps, which he had pulled down.
"How do I look?""Ridiculous," Laila laughed.
"That's the idea.""Your parents came here with you dressed like this?""They're home, actually," he said.
The previous fall, Tariq's uncle in Ghazni had died of a heartattack, and, a few weeks later, Tariq's father had suffered aheart attack of his own, leaving him frail⁶ and tired, prone⁷ toanxiety and bouts⁸ of depression that overtook him for weeks ata time. Laila was glad to see Tariq like this, like his old selfagain. For weeks after his father's illness, Laila had watchedhim moping around, heavy-faced and sullen⁹.
The three of them stole away while Mammy and Babi stoodwatching the

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