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open booth leading to a recently constructed room, which was rented to a man and his wife—Faruq and Gulbahar—who had only been married for two months. Gulbahar spent most of her days in her family’s house in the nearby community of Piryadi, and so would not return till evening. Faruq, for his part, left early each morning and did not return till nightfall—almost as if he did not reside in the house. Finally Burhan Abdallah stopped by the opening to the well, which was enclosed by a wall approximately a meter high. He cranked the rather tall winch, which was fastened to one side, arm over arm, as the water bucket’s rope twisted slowly but surely at the center of the winch, raising the bucket filled with water ever so gently toward the top. It was light at first but grew heavier as it rose higher. The hardest part was clinging with his left hand to one of the winch’s arms while pulling the bucket out—once it reached the lip of the well—with the other hand. His mother had warned him that the bucket was heavy and might drag him back down with it toward the bottom, but he had always been able to pull the bucket out, deliberately not filling it too full of water to make it easier to lift. He poured the cold water into another pail and carried it over to sprinkle on his small garden. His mother had told him, “Don’t overdo the water. The plants don’t need a lot of water during the winter.” Since he saw that his mother was preoccupied with her work at the oven, he slipped unobserved to the upper room to open his box and the valley of the angels.
    He remained cloistered there until late afternoon and did not descend until he heard through the two windows, which were open to the street, the commotion that kids were making as they played in the neighborhood. Then he joined three other children in a game they called “The Duped Jew.” One child would fetch a banknote from his house, unbeknownst to his mother or family, of course. They would pierce one side of it, pass a fine thread through the hole, and then cover the thread, which they stretched all the way to their hiding place, with dirt. They would wait until they saw a Jew approaching in the distance. Then they would leave the banknote in the middle of the street while they hid in some corner. They were sure that Jews always search the ground for something as they walk, since they do not raise their eyes toward the heavens except to pray for God to send destruction and every conceivable and inconceivable calamity down on the Muslims. The Jew’s eyes would normally spot the banknote from afar and glow with delight and greed. He would speed his steps toward the abandoned money, glance right and left, and then lean over to grab it. Before his fingers could touch the money, however, the laughing children would yank it away. Then the Jew would see the practical joke and raise his hands to the heavens to incite God to slay them or else mumble some incomprehensible words. If the children could not lay their hands on a banknote, they would amuse themselves by digging in the center of the street a small ditch that they would fill with water and cover, topping it off with dirt, in hopes that a Jew would pass by on his way home from his shop in the souk and plunge into it. Adults usually drove them away when they did that or chased them, cursing, back to their homes.
    This time the children placed the money in the middle of the street and waited for a long time without any Jew passing. Finally the children gave up, took the money, and headed to the abandoned building used as a gym, where they watched weightlifting exercises practiced by young wrestlers in a zurkhaneh pit. After that they stood behind some young men who were gambling, playing Twenty-One with cards, but one who had lost some of his money sent them packing: “Scram! I can’t bear to have people look over my shoulder.” So Burhan Abdallah went home,