when he had gone to Ghazni. She remembered all too well how time had dragged without
him, how she had shuffled about feeling waylaid, out of balance. How could she ever cope
with his permanent absence?
Maybe it was senseless to want to be near a person so badly here in a country where
bullets had shredded her own brothers to pieces. But all Laila had to do was picture Tariq
going at Khadim with his leg and then nothing in the world seemed more sensible to her.
SIX MONTHS LATER, IN APRIL 1988, BABI CAME HOME WITH BIG NEWS.
"They signed a treaty!" he said. "In Geneva. It's official! They're leaving. Within nine
months, there won't be any more Soviets in Afghanistan!"
Mammy was sitting up in bed. She shrugged.
"But the communist regime is staying," she said. "Najibullah is the Soviets' puppet
president. He's not going anywhere. No, the war will go on. This is not the end"
"Najibullah won't last," said Babi.
"They're leaving, Mammy! They're actually leaving!"
"You two celebrate if you want to. But I won't rest until the Mujahideen hold a victory
parade right here in Kabul"
And, with that, she lay down again and pulled up the blanket.