the kite runner-第3部分

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ached　for　the　mother　I　had　never　met？　One　day；　we　were　walking　from　my　father　s　house　to　Cinema　Zainab　for　a　new　Iranian　movie；　taking　the　shortcut　through　the　military　barracks　near　Istiqlal　Middle　School……Baba　had　forbidden　us　to　take　that　shortcut；　but　he　was　in　Pakistan　with　Rahim　Khan　at　the　time。　We　hopped　the　fence　that　surrounded　the　barracks；　skipped　over　a　little　creek；　and　broke　into　the　open　dirt　field　where　old；　abandoned　tanks　collected　dust。　A　group　of　soldiers　huddled　in　the　shade　of　one　of　those　tanks；　smoking　cigarettes　and　playing　cards。　One　of　them　saw　us；　elbowed　the　guy　next　to　him；　and　called　Hassan。
　Hey；　you！　　he　said。　　I　know　you。　
We　had　never　seen　him　before。　He　was　a　squatly　man　with　a　shaved　head　and　black　stubble　on　his　face。　The　way　he　grinned　at　us；　leered；　scared　me。　　Just　keep　walking；　　I　muttered　to　Hassan。
　You！　The　Hazara！　Look　at　me　when　I　m　talking　to　you！　　the　soldier　barked。　He　handed　his　cigarette　to　the　guy　next　to　him；　made　a　circle　with　the　thumb　and　index　finger　of　one　hand。　Poked　the　middle　finger　of　his　other　hand　through　the　circle。　Poked　it　in　and　out。　In　and　out。　　I　knew　your　mother；　did　you　know　that？　I　knew　her　real　good。　I　took　her　from　behind　by　that　creek　over　there。　
The　soldiers　laughed。　One　of　them　made　a　squealing　sound。　I　told　Hassan　to　keep　walking；　keep　walking。
　What　a　tight　little　sugary　cunt　she　had！　　the　soldier　was　saying；　shaking　hands　with　the　others；　grinning。　Later；　in　the　dark；　after　the　movie　had　started；　I　heard　Hassan　next　to　me；　croaking。　Tears　were　sliding　down　his　cheeks。　I　reached　across　my　seat；　slung　my　arm　around　him；　pulled　him　close。　He　rested　his　head　on　my　shoulder。　　He　took　you　for　someone　else；　　I　whispered。　　He　took　you　for　someone　else。　
I　m　told　no　one　was　really　surprised　when　Sanaubar　eloped。　People　_had_　raised　their　eyebrows　when　Ali；　a　man　who　had　memorized　the　Koran；　married　Sanaubar；　a　woman　nineteen　years　younger；　a　beautiful　but　notoriously　unscrupulous　woman　who　lived　up　to　her　dishonorable　reputation。　Like　Ali；　she　was　a　Shi　a　Muslim　and　an　ethnic　Hazara。　She　was　also　his　first　cousin　and　therefore　a　natural　choice　for
a　spouse。　But　beyond　those　similarities；　Ali　and　Sanaubar　had　little　in　mon；　least　of　all　their　respective　appearances。　While　Sanaubar　s　brilliant　green　eyes　and　impish　face　had；　rumor　has　it；　tempted　countless　men　into　sin；　Ali　had　a　congenital　paralysis　of　his　lower　facial　muscles；　a　condition　that　rendered　him　unable　to　smile　and　left　him　perpetually　grimfaced。　It　was　an　odd　thing　to　see　the　stone…faced　Ali　happy；　or　sad；　because　only　his　slanted　brown　eyes　glinted　with　a　smile　or　welled　with　sorrow。　People　say　that　eyes　are　windows　to　the　soul。　Never　was　that　more　true　than　with　Ali；　who　could　only　reveal　himself　through　his　eyes。
I　have　heard　that　Sanaubar　s　suggestive　stride　and　oscillating　hips　sent　men　to　reveries　of　infidelity。　But　polio　had　left　Ali　with　a　twisted；　atrophied　right　leg　that　was　sallow　skin　over　bone　with　little　in　between　except　a　paper…thin　layer　of　muscle。　I　remember　one　day；　when　I　was　eight；　Ali　was　taking　me　to　the　bazaar　to　buy　some　_naan_。　I　was　walking　behind　him；　humming；　trying　to　imitate　his　walk。　I　watched　him　swing　his　scraggy　leg　in　a　sweeping　arc；　watched　his　whole　body　tilt　impossibly　to　the　right　every　time　he　planted　that　foot。　It　seemed　a　minor　miracle　he　didn　t　tip　over　with　each　step。　When　I　tried　it；　I　almost　fell　into　the　gutter。　That　got　me　giggling。　Ali　turned　around；　caught　me　aping　him。　He　didn　t　say　anything。　Not　then；　not　ever。　He　just　kept　walking。
Ali　s　face　and　his　walk　frightened　some　of　the　younger　children　in　the　neighborhood。　But　the　real　trouble　was　with　the　older　kids。　They　chased　him　on　the　street；　and　mocked　him　when　he　hobbled　by。　Some　had　taken　to　calling　him　_Babalu_；　or　Boogeyman。
　Hey；　Babalu；　who　did　you　eat　today？　　they　barked　to　a　chorus　of　laughter。　　Who　did　you　eat；　you　flat…nosed　Babalu？　
They　called　him　　flat…nosed　　because　of　Ali　and　Hassan　s　characteristic　Hazara　Mongoloid　features。　For　years；　that　was　all　I　knew　about　the　Hazaras；　that　they　were　Mogul　descendants；　and　that　they　looked　a　little　like　Chinese　people。　School　text　books　barely　mentioned　them　and　referred　to　their　ancestry　only　in　passing。　Then　one　day；　I　was　in　Baba　s　study；　looking　through　his　stuff；　when　I　found　one　of　my　mother　s　old　history　books。　It　was　written　by　an　Iranian　named　Khorami。　I　blew　the　dust　off　it；　sneaked　it　into　bed　with　me　that　night；　and　was　stunned　to　find　an　entire　chapter　on　Hazara　history。　An　entire　chapter　dedicated　to　Hassan　s　people！　In　it；　I　read　that　my　people；　the　Pashtuns；　had　persecuted　and　oppressed　the　Hazaras。　It　said　the　Hazaras　had　tried　to　rise　against　the　Pashtuns　in　the　nineteenth　century；　but　the　Pashtuns　had　　quelled　them　with　unspeakable　violence。　　The　book　said　that　my　people　had　killed　the　Hazaras；　driven　them　from　their　lands；　burned　their　homes；　and　sold　their　women。　The　book　said　part　of　the　reason　Pashtuns　had　oppressed　the　Hazaras　was　that　Pashtuns　were　Sunni　Muslims；　while　Hazaras　were　Shi　a。　The　book　said　a　lot　of　things　I　didn　t　know；　things　my　teac