soft-featured, red-lipped man who now in his white turban and prayer robe was unmistakably a mullah. He leaned slightly toward me. "You are an American," he said.
"No, Scottish."
"Foreigners should stay out," he replied.
More people were listening now, including an expressionless Qasim.
"I understand. What do you think of Americans?" I asked an old man by the door.
"We will accept development money from America, but not soldiers."
"Excuse me, I wish to make a statement," said the mullah. He spoke in slow pompous phrases, as though he were at a pulpit. "Unless I am mistaken, you are a British spy."
"No, I am not," I said, turning away from the mullah and addressing the room. "I am a historian, following in the footsteps of Babur, the first Mughal emperor..."
The mullah sat back, muttering, "We know who Babur Shah is."
I ignored him. "He came down this road five hundred years ago. I am walking on foot to Kabul to write a book. I have been traveling in Iran and Pakistan, where I was treated very well because Muslims know how to treat guests."
Various people murmured to each other, "Of course we treat guests well..." "Because we are Muslims..." "We honor travelers."
Jalil said, "I met an Englishman twenty-five years ago in Nimruz, who was doing a journey like yours. He was crossing Afghanistan with a camel. I think he's written about in one of my history books."
"I have a history book," said Qasim. No one paid any attention to him.
"What do you think of your new leader Karzai?" I asked the mullah.
"Good." A pause. He smiled. "Up till now."
"Up till now?"
He shrugged. "Al-Qaeda was good at the beginning." He raised his hands to the sky. "Al-Qaeda was very good at the beginning."
The ewer arrived and I poured the water for my neighbor. As he washed his hands he sighed: " Al Allah II Allah. Muhammad rasull Allah. " (There is no God but God and Muhammad is his prophet.) For some, to be a Muslim it is enough to repeat this phrase.
"The Englishman who traveled with his camel could say that phrase. But he was not a Muslim," commented Jalil.
"He will go to hell," said the mullah.
I was grateful when the food's arrival brought the conversation to a halt.
Man with water pipe
CROWN JEWELS
Three small meat dishes were served for dinner: mutton and potato stew, a peppery innard sausage, and some lamb fat. With so many of us present, the meat was minutely divided to provide a hint of flavor with each handful of rice.
"Is it true that Queen Elizabeth travels by carriage?" asked Jalil, when he had finished eating.
"Yes, she does."
"Why does she not have a car?"
"England is a desert," said the mullah.
"No, it rains a lot in England," I replied.
"Perhaps I am thinking of Australia."
"True, Australia is a desert."
"What is your currency? The euro or the dollar?" asked the fat man with the water pipe.
"It's a hundred yen to the dollar in Japan," interrupted the old man by the door.
"The pound."
"Mr. Pound," shouted the mullah, "do you have kerosene lamps, and rice and green tea in England? Do you grow rice? Is it green like Mazandaran in Iran?"
Everyone was talking at once. I had learned my Persian through repetitive conversation in villages. This discussion tested my vocabulary. I must have missed a quarter of what was said. But what I heard proved this remote place was much more aware of foreign geography, monarchs, and currencies than I had imagined.
"Where," asked the fat old man, "is the Koh-i-Noor diamond the English stole from Afghanistan? When are you going to give it back?"
"When I was in the Indian Punjab, people asked me to give it back to them," I said.
"But you took it from us..."
Babur's diary is the first credible report of the Koh-i-Noor. It was almost certainly the diamond he captured at the siege of Agra, and he describes it as worth "half of the daily expense of the whole world." According to Babur, it had first been acquired by the Delhi Sultan at Malwa in 1304.
There is no
"No, Scottish."
"Foreigners should stay out," he replied.
More people were listening now, including an expressionless Qasim.
"I understand. What do you think of Americans?" I asked an old man by the door.
"We will accept development money from America, but not soldiers."
"Excuse me, I wish to make a statement," said the mullah. He spoke in slow pompous phrases, as though he were at a pulpit. "Unless I am mistaken, you are a British spy."
"No, I am not," I said, turning away from the mullah and addressing the room. "I am a historian, following in the footsteps of Babur, the first Mughal emperor..."
The mullah sat back, muttering, "We know who Babur Shah is."
I ignored him. "He came down this road five hundred years ago. I am walking on foot to Kabul to write a book. I have been traveling in Iran and Pakistan, where I was treated very well because Muslims know how to treat guests."
Various people murmured to each other, "Of course we treat guests well..." "Because we are Muslims..." "We honor travelers."
Jalil said, "I met an Englishman twenty-five years ago in Nimruz, who was doing a journey like yours. He was crossing Afghanistan with a camel. I think he's written about in one of my history books."
"I have a history book," said Qasim. No one paid any attention to him.
"What do you think of your new leader Karzai?" I asked the mullah.
"Good." A pause. He smiled. "Up till now."
"Up till now?"
He shrugged. "Al-Qaeda was good at the beginning." He raised his hands to the sky. "Al-Qaeda was very good at the beginning."
The ewer arrived and I poured the water for my neighbor. As he washed his hands he sighed: " Al Allah II Allah. Muhammad rasull Allah. " (There is no God but God and Muhammad is his prophet.) For some, to be a Muslim it is enough to repeat this phrase.
"The Englishman who traveled with his camel could say that phrase. But he was not a Muslim," commented Jalil.
"He will go to hell," said the mullah.
I was grateful when the food's arrival brought the conversation to a halt.
Man with water pipe
CROWN JEWELS
Three small meat dishes were served for dinner: mutton and potato stew, a peppery innard sausage, and some lamb fat. With so many of us present, the meat was minutely divided to provide a hint of flavor with each handful of rice.
"Is it true that Queen Elizabeth travels by carriage?" asked Jalil, when he had finished eating.
"Yes, she does."
"Why does she not have a car?"
"England is a desert," said the mullah.
"No, it rains a lot in England," I replied.
"Perhaps I am thinking of Australia."
"True, Australia is a desert."
"What is your currency? The euro or the dollar?" asked the fat man with the water pipe.
"It's a hundred yen to the dollar in Japan," interrupted the old man by the door.
"The pound."
"Mr. Pound," shouted the mullah, "do you have kerosene lamps, and rice and green tea in England? Do you grow rice? Is it green like Mazandaran in Iran?"
Everyone was talking at once. I had learned my Persian through repetitive conversation in villages. This discussion tested my vocabulary. I must have missed a quarter of what was said. But what I heard proved this remote place was much more aware of foreign geography, monarchs, and currencies than I had imagined.
"Where," asked the fat old man, "is the Koh-i-Noor diamond the English stole from Afghanistan? When are you going to give it back?"
"When I was in the Indian Punjab, people asked me to give it back to them," I said.
"But you took it from us..."
Babur's diary is the first credible report of the Koh-i-Noor. It was almost certainly the diamond he captured at the siege of Agra, and he describes it as worth "half of the daily expense of the whole world." According to Babur, it had first been acquired by the Delhi Sultan at Malwa in 1304.
There is no
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