Idul Fitri

I  have gone to Bala Morghab with Claudio, it is Idul Fitri, and there is not much we can do for work during the holidays. As is often the case for either of us, Claudio is sick with diarrhea, also sick with love for the girl of his dream in Italy, who likes him only as a friend and no more. 

 So being a poet as he certainly is, he writes her a message along the following lines, to congratulate her on her birthday: “I dreamed I was in the toilet with diarrhea, and you walked towards me wearing a bikini, and bringing in your hands a cake full of candles”.

On the same day we meet our neighbor, the mullah who is supposed to be the leader of the Talibans in the village, and I invite him for tea with the help of a translator. He laughs and says he can not come to our house, but will be glad to receive us on the next day to share tea and break the salted bread. Next day we go to the visitor’s room in his house, drink tea, eat bread and take some sweets as it is the custom, then leave to make space for others who also come to pay their respect to the mullah.