Parvana's Journey by Deborah Ellis Read Free Book Online Page B

now.” Asif took off his blanket shawl and tied it into a sort of a sling. “Hassan can sit in here, and I’ll tie this end around my neck.”
    Parvana thought of her aching arms. “Do you think it will work?”
    “Of course it will work. I’ve been thinking about it for a while.”
    They tried it out. Parvana had to help Asif stand, and she had to tie the baby sling on him, but it did appear to work all right. Hassan didn’t seem to care. He whimpered, but he whimpered when Parvana carried him, too, so she didn’t think it was because he was on Asif’s back instead of in her arms.
    Asif could still manage his crutches with the baby on his back, so the three children moved on. They followed a dirt road because it was flat and easier to walk on. Sometimes a truck went by, or a donkey cart, but although Parvana waved for them to stop, they just kept going.
    Toward the end of the day they came to a tiny village, almost as small as the one Hassan had come from. This one hadn’t been bombed or, if it had, the people had long since rebuilt it.
    Old men sat on the ground outside their homes, shading their eyes from the sun as they watched Parvana, Asif and Hassan move slowly down the middle of the road that ran through the village. Parvana felt uncomfortable with their eyes on her, but there was nothing she could do about it.
    “Do you think we should ask them for water?” she whispered to Asif.
    “They don’t look very friendly. They might ask a lot of questions and make trouble for us,” Asif said. “Let’s see if we can find someone else to ask. Maybe we can find a child.”
    They saw a few small boys playing with an oddly shaped soccer ball. There wasn’t enough air in it, and it didn’t go very far when they kicked it.
    “Where can we get some water?” Asif asked them.
    “There’s a tea house down there,” one of the soccer players said. “Do you want to play with us?”
    “I’m thirsty,” Asif said. “Maybe later.”
    The boys went back to their game. Parvana and Asif walked a little farther down the road and came to the tea shop.
    “We don’t have any money,” Parvana said. “We’ll have to beg.”
    “I don’t beg,” Asif said. “I can work.”
    Parvana sighed. She was too tired to work. Begging would have been much easier.
    The tea shop was a little mud hut with a few tables in it. There were three men inside sitting in silence. A large tea urn was at one end of the room.
    Shauzia had been a tea-boy back in Kabul, running around the marketplace delivering trays full of cups of tea to merchants in their stalls. But there didn’t seem a need for that sort of person in this village.
    “We’re looking for work,” Asif said.
    One of the men shifted in his chair. “There’s no work here, boy. Do you think we’d be sitting still if there was work available?”
    “We’ll do anything,” Parvana said, “and you don’t have to pay us. Just give us something to eat and drink.”
    The man took a swallow of tea and took his time answering, as though Parvana and Asif were well-fed children asking for work for the fun of it.
    “You can’t work,” he finally said, looking at Asif.
    “My brother will look after the baby,” Parvana said quickly. “I can do the work of two.”
    “What is your name?” the man asked.
    “Kaseem,” Parvana replied, giving her boy-name.
    “My chicken house needs cleaning,” he said. “If you do a good job of that, I’ll give you some food, but then you’ll have to be on your way. I only have one chicken house, and I’m not about to give away food for free.”
    The chicken house stood at the back of the small yard. It was filthy.
    “There’s water there if you want a drink,” the man said, pointing at a rain barrel. “If the water’s good enough for the chickens, it’s good enough for you. I’ll bring you food when you finish the work.” And he went back to his friends.
    The yard was surrounded by a fence that was falling apart more than it was