Chapter 37.

Madam SEPTEMBER 1996Iwo and a half years later, Mariam awoke on the morning ofSeptember 27 to the sounds of shouting andwhistling, firecrackers and music. She ran to the living room,found Laila already at the window, Aziza mounted on hershoulders. Laila turned and smiled.
"The Taliban are here," she said.
* * *Mariam had first heard of the Taliban two years before, inOctober 1994, when Rasheed had brought home news thatthey had overthrown the warlords in Kandahar and taken thecity. They were a guerrilla force, he said, made up of youngPashtun men whose families had fled to Pakistan during thewar against the Soviets. Most of them had been raised-someeven born-in refugee camps along the Pakistani border, and inPakistani madrasas, where they were schooled inShari'a bymullahs. Their leader was a mysterious, illiterate, one-eyedrecluse named Mullah Omar, who, Rasheed said with someamusement, called himselfAmeer-ul-Mumineeny Leader of theFaithful.
"It's true that these boys have norisha, no roots," Rasheedsaid, addressing neither Mariam nor Laila. Ever since the failedescape, two and a half years ago, Mariam knew that she andLaila had become one and the same being to him, equallywretched, equally deserving of his distrust, his disdain anddisregard. When he spoke, Mariam had the sense that he washaving a conversation with himself, or with some invisiblepresence in the room, who, unlike her and Laila, was worthyof his opinions.
"They may have no past," he said, smoking and looking up atthe ceiling. "They may know nothing of the world or thiscountry's history. Yes. And, compared to them, Mariam heremight as well be a university professor. Ha! Alltrue. But look around you. What do you see? Corrupt, greedyMujahideen commanders, armed to the teeth, rich off heroin,declaring jihad on one another and killing everyone inbetween-that's what. At least the Taliban are pure andincorruptible. At least they're decent Muslim boys.Wallah, whenthey come, they will clean up this place. They'll bring peaceand order. People won't get shot anymore going out for milk.
No more rockets! Think of it."For two years now, the Taliban had been making their waytoward Kabul, taking cities from the Mujahideen, endingfactional war wherever they'd settled. They had captured theHazara commander Abdul Ali Mazari and executed him. Formonths, they'd settled in the southern outskirts of Kabul, firingon the city, exchanging rockets with Ahmad Shah Massoud.
Earlier in that September of 1996, they had captured the citiesof Jalalabad and Sarobi.
The Taliban had one thing the Mujahideen did not, Rasheedsaid. They were united.
"Let them come," he said. "I, for one, will shower them withrose petals."* * *They "went our that day, the four of them, Rasheed leadingthem from one bus to the next, to greet their new world, theirnew leaders. In every battered neighborhood, Mariam foundpeople materializing from the rubble and moving into thestreets. She saw an old woman wasting handfuls of rice, tossingit at passersby, a drooping, toothless smile on her face. Twomen were hugging by the remains of a gutted building, in thesky above them the whistle, hiss, and pop of a few firecrackersset off by boys perched on rooftops. The national anthemplayed on cassette decks, competing with the honking of cars.
"Look, Mayam!" Aziza pointed to a group of boys runningdown Jadeh Maywand. They were pounding their fists into theair and dragging rusty cans tied to strings. They were yellingthat Massoud and Rabbani had withdrawn from Kabul.
Everywhere, there were shouts:Ailah-u-akbar!
Mariam saw a bedsheet hanging from a window on JadehMaywand. On it, someone had painted three words in big,black letters: zendabaad taliban! Long live the Taliban!
As they walked the streets, Mariam spotted more signs-paintedon windows, nailed to doors, billowing from car antennas-thatproclaimed the same.
* * *Mariam sawher first of the Taliban later that day, atPashtunistan Square, with Rasheed, Laila, and Aziza. A melee ofpeople had gathered there. Mariam saw people craning theirnecks, people crowded around the blue fountain in the centerof the square, people perched on its dry bed. They were tryingto get a view of the end of the square, near the old KhyberRestaurant.
Rasheed used his size to push and shove past the onlookers,and led them to where someone was speaking through aloudspeaker.
When Aziza saw, she let out a shriek and buried her face inMariam's burqa.
The loudspeaker voice belonged to a slender, bearded youngman who wore a black turban. He was standing on some sortof makeshift scaffolding. In his free hand, he held a rocketlauncher. Beside him, two bloodied men hung from ropes tiedto traffic-light posts. Their clothes had been shredded. Theirbloated faces had turned purple-blue.
"I know him," Mariam said, "the one on the left."A young woman in front of Mariam turned around and saidit was Najibullah. The other man was his brother. Mariamremembered Najibullah's plump, mustachioed face, beamingfrom billboards and storefront windows during the Soviet years.
She would later hear that the Taliban had dragged Najibullahfrom his sanctuary at the UN headquarters near DarulamanPalace. That they had tortured him for hours, then tied his legsto a truck and dragged his lifeless body through the streets.
"He killed many, many Muslims!" the young Talib wasshouting through the loudspeaker. He spoke Farsi with aPashto accent, then would switch to Pashto. He punctuated hiswords by pointing to the corpses with his weapon. "His crimesare known to everybody. He was a communist and akqfir Thisis what we do with infidels who commit crimes against Islam!"Rasheed was smirking.
In Mariam's arms, Aziza began to cry.
* * *The following day, Kabul was overrun by trucks. In Khairkhana, in Shar-e-Nau, in Karteh-Parwan, in Wazir Akbar Khanand Taimani, red Toyota trucks weaved through the streets.
Armed bearded men in black turbans sat in their beds. Fromeach truck, a loudspeaker blared announcements, first in Farsi,then Pashto. The same message played from loudspeakersperched atop mosques, and on the radio, which was nowknown as the Voice ofShort 'a. The message was also writtenin flyers, tossed into the streets. Mariam found one in the yard.
Ourwatanis now known as the Islamic Emirate of Afghanistan.
These are the laws that we will enforce and you will obey:
Ail citizens must pray five times a day. If it is prayer timeand you are caught doing something other, you will be beaten.
Ail men will grow their beards. The correct length is at leastone clenched fist beneath the chin. If you do not abide by this,you will be beaten.
Ml boys will wear turbans. Boys in grade one through six willwear black turbans, higher grades will wear white. Ail boys willwear Islamic clothes. Shirt collars will be buttoned.
Singing is forbidden.
Dancing is forbidden.
Playing cards, playing chess, gambling, and kiteflying areforbidden.
Writing books, watching films, and painting pictures areforbidden.
If you keep parakeets, you will be beaten. Your birds will bekilled.
If you steal, your hand will be cut off at the wrist. If yousteal again, your foot will be cut off.
If you are not Muslim, do not worship where you can beseen by Muslims. If you do, you will be beaten and imprisoned.
If you are caught trying to convert a Muslim to your faith, youwill be executed.
Attention women:
You will stay inside your homes at all times. It is not properfor women to wander aimlessly about the streets. If you gooutside, you must be accompanied by amahram,a male relative.
If you are caught alone on the street, you will be beaten andsent home.
You will not, under any circumstance, show your face. Youwill cover with burqa when outside. If you do not, you will beseverely beaten.
Cosmetics are forbidden.
Jewelry is forbidden.
You will not wear charming clothes.
You will not speak unless spoken to.
You will not make eye contact with men.
You will not laugh in public. If you do, you will be beaten.
You will not paint your nails. If you do, you will lose a finger.
Girls are forbidden from attending school All schools for girlswill be closed immediately.
Women are forbidden from working.
If you are found guilty of adultery, you will be stoned todeathListen. Listen well. Obey.Allah-u-akbar.
Rasheed turned off the radio. They were sitting on theliving-room floor, eating dinner less than a week after they'dseen Najibullah's corpse hanging by a rope.
"They can't make half the population stay home and donothing," Laila said.
"Why not?" Rasheed said. For once, Mariam agreed with him.
He'd done the same to her and Laila, in effect, had he not?
Surely Laila saw that.
"This isn't some village. This isKabul. Women here used topractice law and medicine; they held office in thegovernment-"Rasheed grinned. "Spoken like the arrogant daughter of apoetry-reading university man that you are. How urbane, howTajik, of you. You think this is some new, radical idea theTaliban are bringing? Have you ever lived outside of yourprecious little shell in Kabul, mygull Ever cared to visit therealAfghanistan, the south, the east, along the tribal border withPakistan? No? I have. And I can tell you that there are manyplaces in this country that have always lived this way, or closeenough anyhow. Not that you would know.""I refuse to believe it," Laila said "They're not serious.""What the Taliban did to Najibullah looked serious to me,"Rasheed said. "Wouldn't you agree?""He was a communist! He was the head of the Secret Police."Rasheed laughed.
Mariam heard the answer in his laugh: that in the eyes of theTaliban, being a communist and the leader of the dreadedKHAD made Najibullah onlyslightly more contemptible than awoman.