Khaled Hosseini: A Thousand Splendid Suns
Hosseini, Khaled. A Thousand Splendid Suns. New York: Penguin Group, ( Hosseini 15) 2007. Print.
In the Mornings, they awoke to the distant bleating of sheep and the high-pitched toot of a flute a Gul Daman’s shepherds led their flock to graze on the grassy hillside. Mariam and Nana milked goats, fed hens, and collected eggs. They made bread together. Nana taught her to sew too, and cook rice and all the different toppings: shalqam stew with turnip, spinach sabzi, cauliflower with ginger.
Nana made no secret of her dislike for visitors and, in fact, people in general, but she made exceptions for a select few. And so there was Gul Daman’s leader, the village arbab, Habib Khan, a small-headed, bearded man with a large belly who came by once a month or so, tailed by a servant, who carried a chicken, sometimes a pot of kichiri rice, or a basket of dyed eggs, for Mariam. Then there was a rotund, old woman that Nana called Bibi jo, whose late husband had been a stone carver and friends with Nana’s Father. Bibi jo was invariably accompanied by one of her way across the clearing and made great show of rubbing her hip and lowering herself, with a pained sigh, onto the chair that Nana pulled up for her. Bibi jo too always brought Mariam something, a box of dishlemeh candy, a basket of quinces. For Nana, she first brought complains about her failing health, and then gossip from Herat and Gul Daman, delivered at length and with gusto as her daughter-in-law sat listening quietly and dutifully behind her.
In the Mornings, they awoke to the distant bleating of sheep and the high-pitched toot of a flute a Gul Daman’s shepherds led their flock to graze on the grassy hillside. Mariam and Nana milked goats, fed hens, and collected eggs. They made bread together. Nana taught her to sew too, and cook rice and all the different toppings: shalqam stew with turnip, spinach sabzi, cauliflower with ginger.
Nana made no secret of her dislike for visitors and, in fact, people in general, but she made exceptions for a select few. And so there was Gul Daman’s leader, the village arbab, Habib Khan, a small-headed, bearded man with a large belly who came by once a month or so, tailed by a servant, who carried a chicken, sometimes a pot of kichiri rice, or a basket of dyed eggs, for Mariam. Then there was a rotund, old woman that Nana called Bibi jo, whose late husband had been a stone carver and friends with Nana’s Father. Bibi jo was invariably accompanied by one of her way across the clearing and made great show of rubbing her hip and lowering herself, with a pained sigh, onto the chair that Nana pulled up for her. Bibi jo too always brought Mariam something, a box of dishlemeh candy, a basket of quinces. For Nana, she first brought complains about her failing health, and then gossip from Herat and Gul Daman, delivered at length and with gusto as her daughter-in-law sat listening quietly and dutifully behind her.