She reaches across the seat and takes Tariq's hand.
In Herat, most of the streets are paved, lined with fragrant pines.
There are municipal parks and libraries in reconstruction, manicured courtyards, freshly painted buildings.
The traffic lights work, and, most surprisingly to Laila, electricity is steady.
Laila has heard that Herat's feudal style warlord, Ismail Khan, has helped rebuild the city with the considerable customs revenue
that he collects at the Afghan Iranian border, money that Kabul says belongs not to him but to the central government.
There is both a reverential and fearful tone when the taxi driver who takes them to Muwaffaq Hotel mentions Ismail Khan's name.
The two night stay at the Muwaffaq will cost them nearly a fifth of their savings,
but the trip from Mashad has been long and wearying, and the children are exhausted.
The elderly clerk at the desk tells Tariq, as he fetches the room key, that the Muwaffaq is popular with journalists and NGO workers.
“Bin Laden slept here once,” he boasts. The room has two beds, and a bathroom with running cold water.
There is a painting of the poet Khaja Abdullah Ansary on the wall between the beds.
전체재생
다음페이지
문장검색