—In a way, yes, he’s a ruler, a leader, but he was not chosen by us, by the people who live in this country, he was put in power by the invaders to do their bidding. Imagine if our village elder was chosen by another village located thousands of miles away. Would that make any sense? And then imagine if that elder hadn’t even been born in our village, but came from outside, came here, to our land and told us what we could and couldn’t do.

Zabi understood: such a system didn’t make any sense.

Sayed picked up his song:

—O Kamal! Son of Lenin…

He paused again.

—Do you know who Lenin is?

Zabi shook her head. The name was odd to her ear.

—Lenin is the man who created Communism, which is the name of the religion that the invaders believe in. Lenin is a god to the invaders, or a prophet, a divine figure – they hang up photographs of him in their schools and buildings. They read his words and chant them.

Sayed began his song again.

O Kamal! Son of Lenin

You do not care for the religion and the faith

You may face your doom and

May you receive a calamity, O son of a traitor

O son of Lenin!

Zabi didn’t fully grasp the meaning of the lyrics despite the explanation. However, she loved the sound of Sayed’s voice and at the end she clapped.

Smiling, Sayed was about to take a small bow when, like a startled animal, he spun around, staring up into the sky. Zabi couldn’t hear anything except the rush of the water in the irrigation channel. Sayed didn’t move: eyes fixed on the empty blue sky. Belatedly Zabi heard the noise too, a noise unlike any other she’d heard before.

Sayed grabbed her by the waist, lifting her into the nearest tree. Zabi climbed up.

—What do you want me to do?

—Look into the sky! Tell me what you see!

Even though she was light, the tree wasn’t very old and the branches bent under her weight. The noise was growing louder. She could feel vibrations through the trunk. Unable to climb any further, she poked her head above the top of the tree.

—What do you see?