When I looked up, Jasim had pulled over. An old woman, hands outstretched, came to his side of the car and he gave her a couple of bills. Crowds were milling in the street. It was impossible to drive. A group of wailing Iranians walked a few meters ahead of us singing about martyrdom completely off-key. The lead singer was a burly Azeri Turk who slid between Turkish and Persian with songs about the valor of Imam Husayn and his companions. A boy ran to the car from a makeshift mokeb and handed me a sherbet. All the loving of the world was in that little boy’s face. He’d been taught that during Arbaeen you had to be generous and serve. I took the sherbet and turned to see that Jasim was crying.

“Why are you crying, my brother?”

“This land. It kills me.”

“I know. Me too. All of it. The bad and the good. The evil and the saintly. It’s all killing. Killing and killing!”

“That woman . . . that woman you left with me, Saleh.”

“Zahra,” I said, and then reluctantly added, “the Beheader?”

“Her, yes. I am sorry I was not more careful. You put her in my care and she’s dead for no good reason.”

“Many people are dead, my friend. We can’t let it destroy us.”

“Some dead hurt more than others. She was no one to me. But she was my charge. She had eaten of my salt and rested her head in my home. She was my guest. Do you know what it means to lose a guest?”

I was feeling awful enough, but Jasim was taking us to a far more existential place. I had a feeling we’d both have a mental breakdown right here if we were not careful.

“You have a beautiful family, my friend. You’ve lived through hell. Everyone in this country has. You don’t need to make yourself more crazy with things that can’t be helped. Zahra the Beheader probably wanted the end she received.”

“Do not be cruel like that, Saleh. You know no one wants that.”

“I’m just trying to let you know it wasn’t your fault.”

“It was. Many things are my fault, Saleh. Many things. I have endangered my family. I am ashamed.”

“What are you talking about? You’ve done nothing but provide for a whole tribe, not just your wife and children, your whole big extended clan. I’m witness. I know. Who has been bringing in the bread if not Jasim? Everyone knows this.”

“That is the trouble. Everyone knows.”

“Everyone knows what?”

“That I worked for the Americans for a while.”

“So? It’s not a crime. A lot of people did.”

“Yes, and they’re dead.”

“Those were informants. It’s different.”