My Father's Notebook by Kader Abdolah Read Free Book Online

He was skinny and had a tiny head. The way he scuttled over the ground with his muscular arms and legs made you think of a spider. Yet he owed his nickname not so much to his spidery crawl, but to the fact that he climbed trees like a real spider. People would see him in places a normal person couldn’t go. Suddenly he’d be hanging from a branch or crawling up the dome of a mosque. One of his favourite pastimes was peeking through the window of the bathhouse and spying on the naked women.
    Jafar saw what the blind Shoja couldn’t see.
    And since Jafar was Shoja’s friend, he was Aga Akbar’s friend, too. They formed a tight-knit threesome, and they could do many things together that they were unable to do alone.
    They even went to the prostitutes together. That was the agreement. Jafar would crawl onto the back of the blind Shoja, who would then take hold of Aga Akbar’s arm, and in this way the three of them would make their way up Saffron Mountain.
    They needed Jafar because he was the expert. They never went straight into the prostitute’s house. They let Jafar check it out first. He was the one who had to give the OK. Jafar would point his finger at Akbar and say, “Never go in there without me! You might catch a disease! Then you won’t be able to pee, and it’ll hurt like hell!”
    That’s how they did things and it had always gone well.
    Then, one night, Jafar climbed up on the roof of the outhouse and heard a strange noise. He put his ear to the hole, so he could hear better. He knew instantly what Aga Akbar’s problem was. He hurried back to Sayyid Shoja. “Shoja,” he said, “help me!”
    “What’s wrong? How can I help you?”
    “That idiot’s sitting in the outhouse, crying his eyes out.”
    “What? Who’s crying?”
    “Akbar. He can’t pee.”
    The two of them went over and stood by the outhouse door.
    “You hear that? He’s crying.”
    “I’ll be damned, he is. But maybe he’s crying about something else.”
    “Of course not. You don’t go to an outhouse to cry about something else.”
    “Give me a minute to think about it.”
    “There’s nothing to think about, man. It’s clear as a bell. We have to look at Akbar’s thingy. Then we’ll know for sure. We’ve got to nab him as soon as he comes out.”
    They hid behind a wall and waited for Akbar.
    He came out and Jafar beckoned to him.
    Though it was dark, Akbar knew immediately what his friends were up to. His first impulse was to flee, but Jafar was too quick, hurling himself in front of Akbar and grabbing his foot so that he tripped and fell. Shoja rushed over and pinned him to the ground. “Don’t run away, asshole! Come with us.”
    They dragged him into the barn.
    “Hold him!” Jafar yelled.
    He shimmied up a pole and lit an oil lamp.
    Then he pulled down Akbar’s trousers and inspected his penis. “Let the bastard go. He’s sick.”
    Early the next morning they went to the city in search of a doctor.
      
    Several months later, after Aga Akbar had been cured, Shoja and Jafar had a little talk. Akbar was gradually distancing himself from them and they knew why. As true friends, they felt obliged to inform his uncle. So, one evening, Jafar picked up a lantern and climbed up on Shoja’s back.
    They went to Kazem Khan’s house.
    “Good evening,” Shoja said. “May we come in?”
    “Of course, Sayyid Shoja. You two are always welcome. Have a seat. Can I get you some tea?”
    “No, thanks. We don’t want to be here when Akbar gets home. We’ve come here to tell you something. We’re Akbar’s best friends, but some secrets need to be brought out into the open. We’ve come here to say that we’re worried about him.”
    “Why?”
    “You know that the three of us go out together sometimes.Strange things happen every once in a while, though it usually turns out all right. But this time it’s different. This time Akbar has gone too far.”
    “What do you mean, ‘too far’? What’s he done now?”
    “I