Page 126 - The Kite Runner

The Kite Runner 115

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 become as pale as the moon hover-
ing above. He told Karim to ask “Mister Soldier Sahib” to show a
little mercy, maybe he had a sister or a mother, maybe he had a
wife too. The Russian listened to Karim and barked a series of
words.
“It’s his price for letting us pass,” Karim said. He couldn’t
bring himself to look the husband in the eye.
“But we’ve paid a fair price already. He’s getting paid good
money,” the husband said.
Karim and the Russian soldier spoke. “He says . . . he says
every price has a tax.”
That was when Baba stood up. It was my turn to clamp a hand
on his thigh, but Baba pried it loose, snatched his leg away. When
he stood, he eclipsed the moonlight. “I want you to ask this man
something,” Baba said. He said it to Karim, but looked directly at
the Russian officer. “Ask him where his shame is.”
They spoke. “He says this is war. There is no shame in war.”
“Tell him he’s wrong. War doesn’t negate decency. It demands
it, even more than in times of peace.”
Do you have to always be the hero? I thought, my heart flutter-
ing. Can’t you just let it go for once? But I knew he couldn’t—it
wasn’t in his nature. The problem was, his nature was going to get
us all killed.
The Russian soldier said something to Karim, a smile creasing
his lips. “Agha sahib,” Karim said, “these Roussi are not like us.
They understand nothing about respect, honor.”