Book Report: Earth and Ashes

41. Atiq Rahimi, Earth and Ashes (2000) (8/15/21)

I picked this scant (81-page) book up as an attempt to understand the tragedy that is unfolding in Afghanistan right now. Though I suppose that the "tragedy" itself is a matter of interpretation. Apparently there are those both within and outside Afghanistan right now who are welcoming the Taliban as their rulers. I can't comprehend that. Not after twenty years of infrastructure being built, of women and girls gaining some sense of possibility, of education and future hopes being cultivated. And now? All that will be swept aside. I find it tragic. But I guess we can wait and see . . . Maybe the Taliban have changed?

Also, a friend of mine was killed—executed—by the Taliban in 2010, so I am definitely biased. He was a dentist. He loved Afghanistan, and wanted to help people.

Anyway, this book: as I say, scant, and with a very simple story. A grandfather, with grandson in tow, wants to reach his son at a coal mine down a long road, and let him know the terrible news that the Russians have destroyed their village, and all of their family. (This was pre-9/11, pre–American presence.) The old man, Dastaguir, has conversations with the road's gatekeeper, a shop owner, a truck driver, and finally the foreman of the mine and a mineworker. He hallucinates frequently (he is hungry, carrying only apples in a scarf), or dreams, or rhapsodizes. In the end, he fails to meet up with his son, who apparently had been informed of the destruction of his village—and of his entire family, including his father (and perhaps son). And who did not come home. Who was prevented from coming home by the mine boss. 

All the stories we tell. What is the truth? What is joy, and in this case, what is sorrow?

"You know, father, sorrow can turn to water and spill from your eyes, or it can sharpen your tongue into a sword, or it can become a time bomb that, one day, will explode and destroy you. . . . The sorrow of the [gatekeeper] Fateh the guard is like all three. When he comes to see me, his sadness flows out in tears. If he remains alone in his hut, it becomes a bomb . . . when he steps out of the hut and sees others, his sorrow turns itself into a sword and he wants to . . ."

This book is a very quick read. I'm not sure how much it really informs us about the reality of being an Afghan, then or now. But it does get at loss and sorrow. Which certainly is the Afghan lot now and into the future.