Salvation. Redemption.

This  was  my  one  chance  to  become  someone  who  was  looked  at,  not  seen,  listened  to,  not  heard.  If  there  was  a  God,  He'd  guide  the  winds,  let  them  blow  for  me  so  that,  with  a  tug  of  my  string,  I'd  cut  loose  my  pain,  my  longing.  I'd  endured  too  much,  come  too  far.  And  suddenly,  just  like  that,  hope  became  knowledge.  I  was  going  to  win.  It  was  just  a  matter  of  when

Truth or lie?

 "It  hurts  to  say  that,"  he  said,  shrugging.  "But  better  to  get  hurt  by  the  truth  than  comforted  with  a  lie."

"Those Iranians.. "

 For  a  lot  of  Hazaras,  Iran  represented  a  sanctuary  of  sorts-‐-‐I  guess  because,  like  Hazaras,  most  Iranians  were  Shi'a  Muslims.

 But  I  remembered  something  my  teacher  had  said  that  summer  about  Iranians,  that  they  were  grinning  smooth  talkers  who  patted  you  on  the  back  with  one  hand  and  picked  your  pocket  with  the  other.

 I  told  Baba  about  that  and  he  said  my  teacher  was  one  of  those  jealous  Afghans,  jealous  because  Iran  was  a  rising  power  in  Asia  and  most  people  around  the  world  couldn't  even  find  Afghanistan  on  a  world  map.  "It  hurts  to  say  that,"  he  said,  shrugging.  "But  better  to  get  hurt  by  the  truth  than  comforted  with  a  lie

People who mean everything they say

And  that's  the  thing  about  people  who  mean  everything  they  say.  They  think  everyone  else  does  too.

Kite Fighting Rules

 Afghans  are  an  independent  people.  Afghans  cherish  custom  but  abhor  rules.  And  so  it  was  with  kite  fighting.
 The  rules  were  simple:
 No  rules.  Fly  your  kite.  Cut  the  opponents.  Good  luck

Afghan children and childhood

 "There are a lot of children in
Afghanistan, but a little
Childhood."

Afghan children

 The  shootings  and  explosions  had  lasted  less  than  an  hour,  but  they  had  frightened  us  badly,  because  none  of  us  had  ever  heard  gunshots  in  the  streets.  They  were  foreign  sounds  to  us  then.

 The  generation  of  Afghan  children  whose  ears  would  know  nothing  but  the  sounds  of  bombs  and  gunfire  was  not  yet  born.