A Thousand Splendid Suns

thoughtful face, eyebrow cocked and trademarkpakol tilted, would
become ubiquitous in Kabul. His soulful black eyes would gaze back from
billboards, walls, storefront windows, from little flags mounted on the
antennas of taxicabs.
For Mammy, this was the day she had longed for. This brought to
fruition all those years of waiting.
At last, she could end her vigils, and her sons could rest in peace.
* * *
The day after Najibullah surrendered, Mammy rose from bed a new
woman. For the first time in the five years since Ahmad and Noor had
becomeshaheed, she didn't wear black. She put on a cobalt blue linen
dress with white polka dots. She washed the windows, swept the floor,
aired the house, took a long bath. Her voice was shrill with merriment.
"A party is in order," she declared-She sent Laila to invite neighbors.
"Tell them we're having a big lunch tomorrow!"
In the kitchen, Mammy stood looking around, hands on her hips, and
said, with friendly reproach, "What have you done to my kitchen, Laila?
Wboy. Everything is in a different place."
She began moving pots and pans around, theatrically, as though she
were laying claim to them anew, restaking her territory, now that she
was back. Laila stayed out of her way. It was best. Mammy could be as
indomitable in her fits of euphoria as in her attacks of rage. With
unsettling energy, Mammy set about cooking: aush soup with kidney