the kite runner-第62部分

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es　in　Northern　California；　　he　said。　　It　s　wonderfully　strange　to　see　you　as　a　grown　man。　
I　smiled　and　dropped　three　sugar　cubes　in　my　tea。　He　liked　his　black　and　bitter；　I　remembered。　　Baba　didn　t　get　the　chance　to　tell　you　but　I　got　married　fifteen　years　ago。　　The　truth　was；　by　then；　the　cancer　in　Baba　s　brain　had　made　him　forgetful；　negligent。
　You　are　married？　To　whom？　
　Her　name　is　Soraya　Taheri。　　I　thought　of　her　back　home；　worrying　about　me。　I　was　glad　she　wasn　t　alone。
　Taheri。。。　whose　daughter　is　she？　
I　told　him。　His　eyes　brightened。　　Oh；　yes；　I　remember　now。　Isn　t　General　Taheri　married　to　Sharif　jan　s　sister？　What　was　her　name。。。　
　Jamila　jan。　
　Balay！　　he　said；　smiling。　　I　knew　Sharif　jan　in　Kabul；　long　time　ago；　before　he　moved　to　America。　
　He　s　been　working　for　the　INS　for　years；　handles　a　lot　of　Afghan　cases。　
　Haiiii；　　he　sighed。　　Do　you　and　Soraya　jan　have　children？　
　Nay。　
　Oh。　　He　slurped　his　tea　and　didn　t　ask　more；　Rahim　Khan　had　always　been　one　of　the　most　instinctive　people　I　d　ever　met。
I　told　him　a　lot　about　Baba；　his　job；　the　flea　market；　and　how；　at　the　end；　he　d　died　happy。　I　told　him　about　my　schooling；　my　books……four　published　novels　to　my　credit　now。　He　smiled　at　this；　said　he　had　never　had　any　doubt。　I　told　him　I　had　written　short　stories　in　the　leather…bound　notebook　he　d　given　me；　but　he　didn　t　remember　the　notebook。
The　conversation　inevitably　turned　to　the　Taliban。
　Is　it　as　bad　as　I　hear？　　I　said。
　Nay；　it　s　worse。　Much　worse；　　he　said。　　They　don　t　let　you　be　human。　　He　pointed　to　a　scar　above　his　right　eye　cutting　a　crooked　path　through　his　bushy　eyebrow。　　I　was　at　a　soccer　game　in　Ghazi　Stadium　in　1998。　Kabul　against　Mazar…i…Sharif；　I　think；　and　by　the　way　the　players　weren　t　allowed　to　wear　shorts。　Indecent　exposure；　I　guess。　　He　gave　a　tired　laugh。　　Anyway；　Kabul　scored　a　goal　and　the　man　next　to　me　cheered　loudly。　Suddenly　this　young　bearded　fellow　who　was　patrolling　the　aisles；　eighteen　years　old　at　most　by　the　look　of　him；　he　walked　up　to　me　and　struck　me　on　the　forehead　with　the　butt　of　his　Kalashnikov。　　Do　that　again　and　I　ll　cut　out　your　tongue；　you　old　donkey！　　he　said。　　Rahim　Khan　rubbed　the　scar　with　a　gnarled　finger。　　I　was　old　enough　to　be　his　grandfather　and　I　was　sitting　there；　blood　gushing　down　my　face；　apologizing　to　that　son　of　a　dog。　
I　poured　him　more　tea。　Rahim　Khan　talked　some　more。　Much　of　it　I　knew　already；　some　not。　He　told　me　that；　as　arranged　between　Baba　and　him；　he　had　lived　in　Baba　s　house　since　1981……this　I　knew　about。　Baba　had　　sold　　the　house　to　Rahim　Khan　shortly　before　he　and　I　fled　Kabul。　The　way　Baba　had　seen　it　those　days；　Afghanistan　s　troubles　were　only　a　temporary　interruption　of　our　way　of　life……the　days　of　parties　at　the　Wazir　Akbar　Khan　house　and　picnics　in　Paghman　would　surely　return。　So　he　d　given　the　house　to　Rahim　Khan　to　keep　watch　over　until　that　day。
Rahim　Khan　told　me　how；　when　the　Northern　Alliance　took　over　Kabul　between　1992　and　1996；　different　factions　claimed　different　parts　of　Kabul。　　If　you　went　from　the　Shar…e…Nau　section　to　Kerteh…Parwan　to　buy　a　carpet；　you　risked　getting　shot　by　a　sniper　or　getting　blown　up　by　a　rocket……if　you　got　past　all　the　checkpoints；　that　was。　You　practically　needed　a　visa　to　go　from　one　neighborhood　to　the　other。　So　people　just　stayed　put；　prayed　the　next　rocket　wouldn　t　hit　their　home。　　He　told　me　how　people　knocked　holes　in　the　walls　of　their　homes　so　they　could　bypass　the　dangerous　streets　and　would　move　down　the　block　from　hole　to　hole。　In　other　parts；　people　moved　about　in　underground　tunnels。
　Why　didn　t　you　leave？　　I　said。
　Kabul　was　my　home。　It　still　is。　　He　snickered。　　Remember　the　street　that　went　from　your　house　to　the　Qishla；　the　military　bar　racks　next　to　Istiqial　School？　
　Yes。　　It　was　the　shortcut　to　school。　I　remembered　the　day　Hassan　and　I　crossed　it　and　the　soldiers　had　teased　Hassan　about　his　mother。　Hassan　had　cried　in　the　cinema　later；　and　I　d　put　an　arm　around　him。
　When　the　Taliban　rolled　in　and　kicked　the　Alliance　out　of　Kabul；　I　actually　danced　on　that　street；　　Rahim　Khan　said。　　And；　believe　me；　I　wasn　t　alone。　People　were　celebrating　at　_Chaman_；　at　Deh…Mazang；　greeting　the　Taliban　in　the　streets；　climbing　their　tanks　and　posing　for　pictures　with　them。　People　were　so　tired　of　the　constant　fighting；　tired　of　the　rockets；　the　gunfire；　the　explosions；　tired　of　watching　Gulbuddin　and　his　cohorts　firing　on　any　thing　that　moved。　The　Alliance　did　more　damage　to　Kabul　than　the　Shorawi。　They　destroyed　your　father　s　orphanage；　did　you　know　that？　
　Why？　　I　said。　　Why　would　they　destroy　an　orphanage？　　I　remembered　sitting　behind　Baba　the　day　they　opened　the　orphanage。　The　wind　had　knocked　off　his　caracul　hat　and　everyone　had　laughed；　then　stood　and　clapped　when　he　d　delivered　his　speech。　And　now　it　was　just　another　pile　of　rubble。　All　the　money　Baba　had　spent；　all　those　nights　he　d　sweated　over　the　blueprints；　all　the　visits　to　the　construction　site　to　make　sure　every　brick；　every　beam；　and　every　block　was　laid　just　right。。。
　Collateral　damage；　　Rahim　Khan　said。　　You　don　t　want　to　know；　Amir　jan；　what　it　was　l