按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
And not only did she teach classic Farsi literature at the university she was a descendant of the royal family； a fact that my father playfully rubbed in the skeptics faces by referring to her as my princess。
With me as the glaring exception； my father molded the world around him to his liking。 The problem； of course； was that Baba saw the world in black and white。 And he got to decide what was black and what was white。 You can t love a person who lives that way without fearing him too。 Maybe even hating him a little。
When I was in fifth grade； we had a mullah who taught us about Islam。 His name was Mullah Fatiullah Khan； a short； stubby man with a face full of acne scars and a gruff voice。 He lectured us about the virtues of _zakat_ and the duty of _hadj_； he taught us the intricacies of performing the five daily _namaz_ prayers； and made us memorize verses from the Koran……and though he never translated the words for us； he did stress； sometimes with the help of a stripped willow branch； that we had to pronounce the Arabic words correctly so God would hear us better。 He told us one day that Islam considered drinking a terrible sin； those who drank would answer for their sin on the day of _Qiyamat_； Judgment Day。 In those days； drinking was fairly mon in Kabul。 No one gave you a public lashing for it； but those Afghans who did drink did so in private； out of respect。 People bought their scotch as medicine in brown paper
bags from selected pharmacies。 They would leave with the bag tucked out of sight； sometimes drawing furtive； disapproving glances from those who knew about the store s reputation for such transactions。
We were upstairs in Baba s study； the smoking room； when I told him what Mullah Fatiullah Khan had taught us in class。 Baba was pouring himself a whiskey from the bar he had built in the corner of the room。 He listened； nodded； took a sip from his drink。 Then he lowered himself into the leather sofa； put down his drink； and propped me up on his lap。 I felt as if I were sitting on a pair of tree trunks。 He took a deep breath and exhaled through his nose； the air hissing through his mustache for what seemed an eternity I couldn t decide whether I wanted to hug him or leap from his lap in mortal fear。
I see you ve confused what you re learning in school with actual education； he said in his thick voice。
But if what he said is true then does it make you a sinner； Baba？
Hmm。 Baba crushed an ice cube between his teeth。 Do you want to know what your father thinks about sin？
Yes。
Then I ll tell you； Baba said； but first understand this and understand it now； Amir： You ll never learn anything of value from those bearded idiots。
You mean Mullah Fatiullah Khan？
Baba gestured with his glass。 The ice clinked。 I mean all of them。 Piss on the beards of all those self…righteous monkeys。
I began to giggle。 The image of Baba pissing on the beard of any monkey； self…righteous or otherwise； was too much。
They do nothing but thumb their prayer beads and recite a book written in a tongue they don t even understand。 He took a sip。 God