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trolling the sidewalks； no tanks rolling up and down the streets of my city； their turrets swiveling like accusing fingers； no rubble； no curfews； no Russian Army Personnel Carriers weaving through the bazaars。 Then； behind me； I heard Baba and Karim discussing the arrangement in Jalalabad over a smoke。 Karim was reassuring Baba that his brother had a big truck of excellent and first…class quality； and that the trek to Peshawar would be very routine。 He could take you there with his eyes closed； Karim said。 I overheard him telling Baba how he and his brother knew the Russian and Afghan soldiers who worked the checkpoints； how they had set up a mutually profitable arrangement。 This was no dream。 As if on cue； a MiG suddenly screamed past overhead。 Karim tossed his cigarette and produced a hand gun from his waist。 Pointing it to the sky and making shooting gestures； he spat and cursed at the MiG。
I wondered where Hassan was。 Then the inevitable。 I vomited on a tangle of weeds； my retching and groaning drowned in the deafening roar of the MiG。 WE PULLED UP to the checkpoint at Mahipar twenty minutes later。 Our driver let the truck idle and hopped down to greet the approaching voices。 Feet crushed gravel。 Words were exchanged； brief and hushed。 A flick of a lighter。 Spasseba。
Another flick of the lighter。 Someone laughed； a shrill cackling sound that made me jump。 Baba s hand clamped down on my thigh。 The laughing man broke into song； a slurring； off…key rendition of an old Afghan wedding song； delivered with a thick Russian accent：
Ahesta boro； Mah…e…man； ahesta boro。
Go slowly； my lovely moon； go slowly。
Boot heels clicked on asphalt。 Someone flung open the tarpaulin hanging over the back of the truck； and three faces peered in。 One was Karim； the other two were soldiers； one Afghan； the other a grinning Russian； face like a bulldog s； cigarette dangling from the side of his mouth。 Behind them； a bone…colored moon hung in the sky。 Karim and the Afghan soldier had a brief exchange in Pashtu。 I caught a little of it……something about Toor and his bad luck。 The Russian soldier thrust his face into the rear of the truck。 He was humming the wedding song and drumming his finger on the edge of the tailgate。 Even in the dim light of the moon； I saw the glazed look in his eyes as they skipped from passenger to passenger。 Despite the cold； sweat streamed from his brow。 His eyes settled on the young woman wearing the black shawl。 He spoke in Russian to Karim without taking his eyes off her。 Karim gave a curt reply in Russian； which the soldier returned with an even curter retort。 The Afghan soldier said some thing too； in a low； reasoning voice。 But the Russian soldier shouted something that made the other two flinch。 I could feel Baba tightening up next to me。 Karim cleared his throat； dropped his head。 Said the soldier wanted a half hour with the lady in the back of the truck。
The young woman pulled the shawl down over her face。 Burst into tears。 The toddler sitting in her husband s lap started crying too。 The husband s face had bee as pale as the moon hovering ab