A Thousand Splendid Suns

22.
January 1989
One cold, overcast day in January 1989, three months before Laila
turned eleven, she, her parents, and Hasina went to watch one of the last
Soviet convoys exit the city. Spectators had gathered on both sides of
the thoroughfare outside the Military Club near Wazir Akbar Khan. They
stood in muddy snow and watched the line of tanks, armored trucks, and
jeeps as light snow flew across the glare of the passing headlights. There
were heckles and jeers. Afghan soldiers kept people off the street. Every
now and then, they had to fire a warning shot.
Mammy hoisted a photo of Ahmad and Noor high over her head. It was
the one of them sitting back-to-back under the pear tree. There were
others like her, women with pictures of their shaheed husbands, sons,
brothers held high.
Someone tapped Laila and Hasina on the shoulder. It was Tariq.
"Where did you get that thing?" Hasina exclaimed.
"I thought I'd come dressed for the occasion." Tariq said. He was
wearing an enormous Russian fur hat, complete with earflaps, which he
had pulled down.
"How do I look?"
"Ridiculous," Laila laughed.
"That's the idea."