She said that the Soviet Union was the best nation in the world, along with Afghanistan. It
was kind to its workers, and its people were all equal. Everyone in the Soviet Union was
happy and friendly, unlike America, where crime made people afraid to leave their homes.
And everyone in Afghanistan would be happy too, she said, once the antiprogressives, the
backward bandits, were defeated.
"That's why our Soviet comrades came here in 1979. To lend their neighbor a hand. To
help us defeat these brutes who want our country to be a backward, primitive nation. And
you must lend your own hand, children. You must report anyone who might know about
these rebels. It's your duty. You must listen, then report. Even if it's your parents, your
uncles or aunts. Because none of them loves you as much as your country does. Your
country comes first, remember! I will be proud of you, and so will your country."
On the wall behind Khala Rangmaal's desk was a map of the Soviet Union, a map of
Afghanistan, and a framed photo of the latest communist president, Najibullah, who, Babi
said, had once been the head of the dreaded KHAD, the Afghan secret police. There were
other photos too, mainly of young Soviet soldiers shaking hands with peasants, planting
apple saplings, building homes, always smiling genially.
"Well," Khala Rangmaal said now, "have I disturbed your daydreaming, Inqilabi Girl?"
This was her nickname for Laila, Revolutionary Girl, because she'd been born the night of
the April coup of 1978 except Khala Rangmaal became angry if anyone in her class used
the word coup. What had happened, she insisted, was an inqilab, a revolution, an uprising
of the working people against inequality. Jihad was another forbidden word. According to
her, there wasn't even a war out there in the provinces, just skirmishes against
troublemakers stirred by people she called foreign provocateurs. And certainly no one, no
one, dared repeat in her presence the rising rumors that, after eight years of fighting, the
Soviets were losing this war. Particularly now that the American president, Reagan, had
started shipping the Mujahideen Stinger Missiles to down the Soviet helicopters, now that
Muslims from all over the world were joining the cause: Egyptians, Pakistanis, even
wealthy Saudis, who left their millions behind 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 curt nod.
When school let out. Mammy again didn't show up like she was supposed to. Laila ended
up walking home with two of her classmates, Giti and Hasina.
Giti was a tightly wound, bony little girl who wore her hair in twin ponytails held by
elastic 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, but had failed third