A Struggle of Heart and Mind in an Ancient Land

The Kite Runner

Khaled Hosseini

$29.95, 324 pages, hard cover

Riverhead Books, Penguin Group Inc.

ISBN 1-57322-245-3

Unlike the Indian Subcontinent where two centuries of colonial rule made English the lingua franca and produced the likes of Naipal, Rushdi and Roy, the neighboring countries that were outside the sphere of British influence lacked that literary milieu.

So it was surprising and refreshing to read a first rate work of English fiction by an Afghan.

It is the story of an affluent Afghan father, a Pushtun widower; his only son, the narrator and the central character in the book and a Hazara servant boy who is also a playmate of the son. The story unfolds in a posh Kabul neighborhood in the 1960’s and ends in Fremont, California 36- years later. In that timeframe the Afghan landscape underwent a sea-change from a tranquil and stable monarchy to the turbulent and dangerous place that it has become. Along this chaotic and perilous road the Afghans witnessed the end of monarchy, Soviet invasion of their country, the civil war in the aftermath of the Soviets’ humiliating defeat, the rise and fall of the Taliban and lastly the American occupation of Afghanistan.

Through twists and turns of the story, the reader becomes aware of the many contradicting and endearing qualities of the Afghan character. It is driven by the age-old principles of honor and pride (nang-o-namoos), revenge, unfettered hospitality, and an inherent kindness and grace that is occasionally accented by shifting loyalties and uncertainties. In that macho tribal mindset there is very little room or understanding for a contemplative and sensitive young boy who prefers reading poetry and writing stories than roughing it up on the soccer field. The boy knows he is a disappointment to his stern father.

And in many ways the boy is a disappointment to himself also. He is angry at the injustices of the society, the pseudo-bravado of men, his aversion of competitive sports and his inability to please his father. But above all, he is angry with himself for not standing up and defending his Hazara servant-playmate who while running an errand for his young master was brutally raped by neighborhood bullies. That singular incident, despite his efforts to suppress its haunting memory, gnaws at his conscience and consumes him even when he is living a world away in the placid and tranquil surroundings of Fremont, California.

There are many other streams also that run through the story. Like the tributaries of a turbulent mountain stream, they add strength to the story and in the end become part of the mainstream. One such stream is the friction between the northern tribes and the more populous southern Pushtun tribes. But the brunt however has been borne by the Shia Hazaras of the north. The ethnic and religious divide between the north and the south is as clear and distinct as the snowcapped Hindu Kush Mountains that separate them. (Even in the present post-Taliban era that historic friction is still playing out where the northern tribes dominate the present Afghan government of Pushtun Hamid Karzai.)

Years later, during the realm of the Taliban, the sensitive young man of this story returns to Kabul to atone his sins of omissions by having a brutal confrontation with the same bully who had savagely raped his Hazara servant. It was the right thing - the Pushtun thing - to do even though the main characters in his life, his father and his playmate, had long passed on from the scene. In the end the same concept of nang and namoos - honor and pride - that the young man disdained to the displeasure of his father becomes a redeeming fact for his own survival.

There are some cliffhangers in the story. While the father and son were making their escape from Afghanistan their truck was stopped by a Russian soldier who demanded the company of a young Afghan woman in the group as a payment for letting them pass. The father, ever the epitome of nang-o-namoos, put his own life on the line and stood up to the bully. And when a group of them crossed into Pakistan tucked in the belly of an empty gasoline tanker and not everyone emerged alive at the end of the journey.

There is one shortcoming, albeit a minor one, in the book. All through the book the author uses native phrases and metaphors to illustrate the story. For a person familiar with Afghan culture they shine beautifully in the narrative. But despite the author’s effort to explain them in the text, they can be a bit cumbersome for the uninitiated. A glossary of native terms would have been very helpful.

The book paints a realistic and haunting picture of a land that has so savagely been brutalized by foreigners and natives alike. The tapestry, beautiful and enchanting as well as tattered and ugly, comes alive in vivid colors through a beautifully crafted prose.

(S. Amjad Hussain is an op-ed columnist for the daily Blade of Toledo Ohio).