A Thousand Splendid Suns

(Nancy Kaufman) #1

ritual, like brushing teeth.


Babi ran his finger through the rip. "I'll patch this as soon as I get a chance. We'd better
go." He raised his voice and called over his shoulder, "We're going now, Fariba! I'm taking
Laila to school. Don't forget to pick her up!"


Outside, as she was climbing on the carrier pack of Babi's bicycle, Laila spotted a car
parked up the street, across from the house where the shoemaker, Rasheed, lived with his
reclusive wife. It was a Benz, an unusual car in this neighborhood, blue with a thick white
stripe bisecting the hood, the roof, and the trunk. Laila could make out two men sitting
inside, 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 for class."


Laila remembered another fight, and, that time, Mammy had stood over Babi and said in a
mincing way, That's your business, isn't it, cousin? To make nothing your business. Even
your own sons going to war. Howl pleaded with you. Bui you buried your nose in those
cursed books and let our sons go like they were a pair of haramis.


Babi pedaled up the street, Laila on the back, her arms wrapped around his belly. As they
passed the blue Benz, Laila caught a fleeting glimpse of the man in the backseat: thin,
white haired, dressed in a dark brown suit, with a white handkerchief triangle in the breast
pocket. The only other thing she had time to notice was that the car had Herat license
plates.


They rode the rest of the way in silence, except at the turns, where Babi braked cautiously
and said, "Hold on, Laila. Slowing down. Slowing down. There."




In class that day, Laila found it hard to pay attention, between Tariq's absence and her
parents' fight. So when the teacher called on her to name the capitals of Romania and Cuba,
Laila was caught off guard.


The teacher's name was Shanzai, but, behind her back, the students called her Khala
Rangmaal, Auntie Painter, referring to the motion she favored when she slapped students
palm, then back of the hand, back and forth, like a painter working a brush. Khala
Rangmaal was a sharp faced young woman with heavy eyebrows. On the first day of school,
she had proudly told the class that she was the daughter of a poor peasant from Khost. She
stood straight, and wore her jet black hair pulled tightly back and tied in a bun so that,
when Khala Rangmaal turned around, Laila could see the dark bristles on her neck. Khala
Rangmaal did not wear makeup or jewelry. She did not cover and forbade the female
students from doing it. She said women and men were equal in every way and there was no
reason women should cover if men didn't.

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