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y neighbor said the Talibs were looking at the big house like……how did he say it?……yes; like wolves looking at a flock of sheep。 They told Hassan they would be moving in to supposedly keep it safe until I return。 Hassan protested again。 So they took him to the street……
No; I breathed。
……and order him to kneel……
No。 God; no。
……and shot him in the back of the head。
……Farzana came screaming and attacked them……
No。
……shot her too。 Self…defense; they claimed later……
But all I could manage was to whisper No。 No。 No over and over again。
I KEPT THINKING OF THAT DAY in 1974; in the hospital room; Just after Hassan s harelip surgery。 Baba; Rahim Khan; Ali; and I had huddled around Hassan s bed; watched him examine his new lip in a handheld mirror。 Now everyone in that room was either dead or dying。 Except for me。
Then I saw something else: a man dressed in a herringbone vest pressing the muzzle of his Kalashnikov to the back of Hassan s head。 The blast echoes through the street of my father s house。 Hassan slumps to the asphalt; his life of unrequited loyalty drifting from him like the windblown kites he used to chase。
The Taliban moved into the house; Rahim Khan said。 The pretext was that they had evicted a trespasser。 Hassan s and Farzana s murders were dismissed as a case of self…defense。 No one said a word about it。 Most of it was fear of the Taliban; I think。 But no one was going to risk anything for a pair of Hazara servants。
What did they do with Sohrab? I asked。 I felt tired; drained。 A coughing fit gripped Rahim Khan and went on for a long time。 When he finally looked up; his face was flushed and his eyes bloodshot。 I heard he s in an orphanage somewhere in Karteh Seh。 Amir jan…… then he was coughing again。 When he stopped; he looked older than a few moments before; like he was aging with each coughing fit。 Amir jan; I summoned you here because I wanted to see you before I die; but that s not all。
I said nothing。 I think I already knew what he was going to say。
I want you to go to KabuL I want you to bring Sohrab here; he said。
I struggled to find the right words。 I d barely had time to deal with the fact that Hassan was dead。
Please hear me。 I know an American pair here in Peshawar; a husband and wife named Thomas and Betty Caldwell。 They are Christians and they run a small charity organization that they manage with private donations。 Mostly they house and feed Afghan children who have lost their parents。 I have seen the place。 It s clean and safe; the children are well cared for; and Mr。 and Mrs。 Caldwell are kind people。 They have already told me that Sohrab would be wele to their home and……
Rahim Khan; you can t be serious。
Children are fragile; Amir Jan。 Kabul is already full of broken children and I don t want Sohrab to bee another。
Rahim Khan; I don t want to go to Kabul。 I can t! I said。
Sohrab is a gifted little boy。 We can give him a new life here; new hope; with people who would love him。 Thomas agha is a
good man and Betty khanum is so kind; you should see how she treats those orphans。
Why me