《the kite runner》

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the kite runner- 第3部分


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er of one hand。 Poked the middle finger of his other hand through the circle。 Poked it in and out。 In and out。  I knew your mother; did you know that? I knew her real good。 I took her from behind by that creek over there。 
The soldiers laughed。 One of them made a squealing sound。 I told Hassan to keep walking; keep walking。
 What a tight little sugary cunt she had!  the soldier was saying; shaking hands with the others; grinning。 Later; in the dark; after the movie had started; I heard Hassan next to me; croaking。 Tears were sliding down his cheeks。 I reached across my seat; slung my arm around him; pulled him close。 He rested his head on my shoulder。  He took you for someone else;  I whispered。  He took you for someone else。 
I m told no one was really surprised when Sanaubar eloped。 People _had_ raised their eyebrows when Ali; a man who had memorized the Koran; married Sanaubar; a woman nineteen years younger; a beautiful but notoriously unscrupulous woman who lived up to her dishonorable reputation。 Like Ali; she was a Shi a Muslim and an ethnic Hazara。 She was also his first cousin and therefore a natural choice for
a spouse。 But beyond those similarities; Ali and Sanaubar had little in mon; least of all their respective appearances。 While Sanaubar s brilliant green eyes and impish face had; rumor has it; tempted countless men into sin; Ali had a congenital paralysis of his lower facial muscles; a condition that rendered him unable to smile and left him perpetually grimfaced。 It was an odd thing to see the stone…faced Ali happy; or sad; because only his slanted brown eyes glinted with a smile or welled with sorrow。 People say that eyes are windows to the soul。 Never was that more true than with Ali; who could only reveal himself through his eyes。
I have heard that Sanaubar s suggestive stride and oscillating hips sent men to reveries of infidelity。 But polio had left Ali with a twisted; atrophied right leg that was sallow skin over bone with little in between except a paper…thin layer of muscle。 I remember one day; when I was eight; Ali was taking me to the bazaar to buy some _naan_。 I was walking behind him; humming; trying to imitate his walk。 I watched him swing his scraggy leg in a sweeping arc; watched his whole body tilt impossibly to the right every time he planted that foot。 It seemed a minor miracle he didn t tip over with each step。 When I tried it; I almost fell into the gutter。 That got me giggling。 Ali turned around; caught me aping him。 He didn t say anything。 Not then; not ever。 He just kept walking。
Ali s face and his walk frightened some of the younger children in the neighborhood。 But the real trouble was with the older kids。 They chased him on the street; and mocked him when he hobbled by。 Some had taken to calling him _Babalu_; or Boogeyman。
 Hey; Babalu; who did you eat today?  they barked to a chorus of laughter。  Who did you eat; you flat…nosed Babalu? 
They called him  flat…nosed  because of Ali and Hassan s characteristic Hazara Mongoloid features。 For years; that was all I knew about the Hazaras; that they were Mogul descendants; and that they looked a little like Chinese people。 School text books barely mentioned them and referred to their ancestry only in passing。 Then one day; I was in Baba s study; looking through his stuff; when I found one of my mother s old history books。 It was written by an Iranian named Khorami。 I blew the dust off it; sneaked it into bed with me that night; and was stunned to find an entire chapter on Hazara history。 An entire chapter dedicated to Hassan s people! In it; I read that my people; the Pashtuns; had persecuted and oppressed the Hazaras。 It said the Hazaras had tried to rise against the Pashtuns in the nineteenth century; but the Pashtuns had  quelled them with unspeakable violence。  The book said that my people had killed the Hazaras; driven them from their lands; burned their homes; and sold their women。 The book said part of the reason Pashtuns had oppressed the Hazaras was that Pashtuns were Sunni Muslims; while Hazaras were Shi a。 The book said a lot of things I didn t know; things my teachers hadn t mentioned。 Things Baba hadn t mentioned either。 It also said some things I did know; like that people called Hazaras _mice…eating; flat…nosed; load…carrying donkeys_。 I had heard some of the kids in the neighborhood yell those names to Hassan。
The following week; after class; I showed the book to my teacher and pointed to the chapter on the Hazaras。 He skimmed through a couple of pages; snickered; handed the book back。  That s the one thing Shi a people do well;  he said; picking up his papers;  passing themselves as martyrs。  He wrinkled his nose when he said the word Shi a; like it was some kind of disease。
But despite sharing ethnic heritage and family blood; Sanaubar joined the neighborhood kids in taunting Ali。 I have heard that she made no secret of her disdain for his appearance。
 This is a husband?  she would sneer。  I have seen old donkeys better suited to be a husband。 
In the end; most people suspected the marriage had been an arrangement of sorts between Ali and his uncle; Sanaubar s father。 They said Ali had married his cousin to help restore some honor to his uncle s blemished name; even though Ali; who had been orphaned at the age of five; had no worldly possessions or inheritance to speak of。
Ali never retaliated against any of his tormentors; I suppose partly because he could never catch them with that twisted leg dragging behind him。 But mostly because Ali was immune to the insults of his assailants; he had found his joy; his antidote; the moment Sanaubar had given birth to Ha
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