Read Online When Elephants Fight by Eric Walters - Free Book Online

when the Russians were forced to leave that it would be different,” the first man said.
    Farooq’s father just shrugged. He was not a political man. He was a businessman. He had lived through the invasion of the Russians the way his ancestors had lived through invasion by the British, and before that, Darius, Genghis Khan, Tamerlane and Alexander the Great. The greatest armies in history had invaded Afghanistan over the centuries, but none had ever been able to tame or control it for long. The Afghanis werestrong and tough and prided themselves on their independence. They had always thrown out invaders and reclaimed their country. And now with the latest invaders expelled, a civil war was taking place as different sides tried to fill the power vacuum left behind by the retreating Russians.

AFGHANISTAN
    Population: 32,000,000
Location: Latitude: 33° N, Longitude: 65° E, southern Asia
Area: 647,000 square kilometers
Climate: cold winters, hot summers, arid to semi-arid
Languages: Afghan Persian (Dari)
(Official) 50%
Pashtu (Official) 35%
Turkic languages 11%
Ethnicity: Pashtun 42%
Tajik 27%
Uzbek 9%
Religions: Sunni Muslim 80%
Shi’a Muslim 19%
Other 1%
Life Expectancy: 44 years
Infant Mortality Rate: 157 per 1,000 live births
Per Capita Income: $800
Literacy Rate: 28% (male 43%, female 12%)
    Slowly they had moved up the line; now it was their turn. His father filled three water containers, giving the first to Farooq to carry. As they started to walk, Farooq held onto his father’s coat with one hand.
    â€œUse both hands for the container,” his father said. “If you spill it you’ll be going back by yourself to fill it.”
    Farooq did what he was told. He
did
need both hands to carry the heavy container.
    â€œThere’s nothing to worry about,” his father said to him.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œThere’s no need for you to worry,” his father repeated. “I’ll make sure my family is safe.”
    They dropped off the water in the garage. This was their kitchen now, the place where meals were prepared. Sometimes they ate in there. Sometimes in the courtyard, when the weather allowed. Other times, especially when there was the sound of shelling or bullets, they ate in the shelter of the basement.
    His mother was already in the garage preparing breakfast. Farooq put down his water container and quietly went back outside before he could be given more work to do. Carrying water was one thing but helping to prepare breakfast was another.
    As he walked outdoors, he reached into his pocket and pulled some marbles out. He had many toys and games, but playing marbles was one of his very favorite things to do. He stopped in a little patch of sunny dirt in the corner of the courtyard. He bent down and with his finger he drew a circle. He placed some of the smaller marbles inside—he was going to use the larger one, his lucky marble, to knock the others out.
    â€œCan we play?”
    It was his cousin and his sister. Playing marbles with his cousin was one thing, but his sister, Zakia, only three, was too young to do anything except cause trouble. He wasn’t positive, but he thought she had actually swallowed some of his marbles before.
    â€œYou can play,” he said to his cousin. “And she can watch,” he continued, pointing to his sister.
    She sat down on the ground. She didn’t seem too disappointed. She was just happy to be around her big brother.
    Farooq handed his cousin one of the big marbles. The idea of the game was to take the big marble and “flick” it so that it hit the little marbles in the circle. If you knocked out one ofthe little marbles, then it was yours. Some the bigger kids played it for “keeps.” They got to keep whatever marbles they knocked out of the circle. For Farooq and his cousin, they just did it for fun. They were, after all, just kids, and playing was what they wanted to do. And while they were playing,