My Pen Is the Wing of a Bird: New Fiction by Afghan Women by 18 Afghan Women

Author:18 Afghan Women [Doucet, Lyse and Hannah, Lucy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2022-10-18T00:00:00+00:00

SANDALS

Maliha Naji

Translated from the Pashto by Shekiba Habib and Zarghuna Kargar

Wisps of hair poked through a hole in her long red scarf. She came up close to the man and passed him the mug she held in her blackened fingers. She said, “Gul Ahmad! My back is aching. Please bring back a tub of Vicks—the one that has a picture of a spine on it. The pain is excruciating, I can’t bend down to put bread in the tanoor. It’s like my back is breaking.”

Gul Ahmad knelt and raised the mug to his mouth, his black mustache touching its edges. “Oof, this is so bitter, like poison. Go and get me some gur if there’s any left.”

Zarmina’s dry heels scraped the drugget as she walked. She said crossly, “I wish these feet would get lost. I can’t even walk—my heart shrieks. May these cracked heels go to hell.”

Gul Ahmad burst out laughing. “Is there any part of your body that doesn’t have something wrong with it?”

Zarmina curled her lip and turned her face away. She pulled a bunch of keys from her chest and unlocked the box. She slipped her fingers into a bag inside it, then held her hand out to her husband. “Is it enough?”

Gul Ahmad looked at her. “Yes, just enough to help me swallow this tea.”

“We are almost out of gur. I put some in the halwa when your elder brother was here and we’ve run out. If any guest comes, we will be embarrassed. Your brothers’ wives won’t lend me anything. To hell with poverty.”

“Oh woman, have some patience! God is giving us enough to eat morning and night. So far, we haven’t had to ask anyone for help. I hope God will have mercy on us and these days will also pass. Don’t think about it now. I can just afford to buy shoes for your sons.”

“Merra! Lashta’s sandals are also torn. The weather is cold. She runs around with the other children all day long, and her toes turn red. Buy her a pair of plastic shoes too—but don’t get a big size, they will make too much noise when she walks.” She showed him the span of her hand. “One champa is enough for her.”

Her husband looked doubtful. “I will check my pockets. If I get this work, then the money should be good this time. Give me another half cup of tea. I mustn’t be late.”

Gul Ahmad worked for a company in Kabul, selling paper napkins and mineral water to shops. Sometimes the work was good but at other times he did not earn much. He called to his sons, on his way out. “Ghorzang, Naseer! Come here, boys.”

Ghorzang and Naseer ran to him with dusty feet. They had been playing with their cousins in the yard.

“Yes, Aba!”

“Come here so I can measure your feet.”

“Aba, I will bring the thread. Last time, you measured with your hands and the shoes were too tight.”

Gul Ahmad fixed his black turban on his head and called Zarmina.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.