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workings, science and its laws. But the machine had to be set up carefully, and Ahmad Hussein made sure that Abbas understood each step. So painstaking was Ahmad Hussein that Abbas’ excitement got the better of him and he began to hop from one foot to the other.
    ‘Abbas, what is troubling you?’ said Ahmad Hussein, though he knew well. ‘Do you want to relieve your bladder?’
    ‘I want to see the machine making honey.’
    ‘If you want to see the machine making honey you must be patient. Can’t you see that the machine has to be put together with great care?’
    ‘Yes, yes, I can see!’
    ‘Do you think the machine puts itself together?’
    ‘No, it doesn’t put itself together!’
    ‘Who puts the machine together?’
    ‘Ahmad Hussein, you know the answer!’ said Abbas. It was the first time he had addressed his teacher without saying, ‘Sir.’ ‘It is you who puts the machine together!’
    ‘Then how can I put the machine together if I am watching you wriggling in your trousers?’
    The machine came in six parts. The biggest part was a pair of large steel wheels enclosed by a metal covering. Between the two rims of the wheels, inside the covering, slots had been made. The wheels stood on a welded frame and on this frame the wheel was made to spin very fast when a handle was turned. The handle was attached to a smaller wheel with teeth on it, called a cogwheel, and this smaller wheel combined with a wheel still smaller, called a pulley wheel. The cogwheel and the pulley wheel were joined by a belt of rubber. At the bottom of the wheel a drum had been fixed, and from the drum ran a length of rubber hose.
    Ahmad Hussein slid the trays into the slots of the machine. It was possible to put ten trays inside at one time. When the machine was full of trays, Ahmad Hussein sealed it shut and turned the handle. At first he turned the handle slowly, then he turned it faster. The speed of the turning made the honey fly out of the trays and gather in a reservoir at the bottom. The honey then dripped through the rubber hose into big tin buckets. After a time, instead of dripping out of the rubber hose, the honey began to flow into the tin bucket.
    For Abbas, this was the first truly happy day he had known since the death of his grandfather. His delight was written all over his face. Ahmad Hussein said, ‘Do you see what has happened, Abbas? The bees go to the flowers and from the flowers comes the nectar, the assal . Inside the factory boxes of the bees, the nectar becomes honey. And now the honey flows into the bucket. Is this not a great wonder?’
    *   *   *
    On the journey back to the village that evening in the cart, Abbas carried in his lap a large metal tin of the honey made that day. In the tray of the cart behind, a further twenty tins of honey were packed into four wooden boxes. Ahmad Hussein said, ‘Tomorrow I go north to the forest hives. The honey of the forest hives tastes different. Will you come? Will your father agree?’
    ‘I think he will agree,’ said Abbas.
    ‘And you – will you agree?’
    ‘I will certainly agree.’
    ‘Is this a life you might choose, Abbas, the life of a perwerrish dahenda ?’
    ‘Gladly, Ahmad Hussein.’
    ‘A slave driver – will your conscience permit it, Abbas?’
    ‘It will.’
    The country they passed over was all Hazara. They didn’t have to fear being robbed, something that could happen in other parts of Afghanistan. As the horse picked out its path, Abbas sat in thought. Ahmad Hussein didn’t make a sound for a half hour other than to murmur snatches of songs. But when he thought it was time to interrupt the boy’s thoughts, he nudged him with his shoulder.
    ‘Are your thoughts a pleasure to you?’ asked Ahmad Hussein. ‘Share them with me.’
    Abbas remained silent for a minute more, then he said, ‘Do you believe that bears can talk?’
    ‘Can bears talk? A strange question! No, a bear cannot talk except to another bear.’
    ‘Have you ever