I told him everything that had happened. Told him about my meeting with Rahim Khan, the trek to Kabul, the orphanage, the stoning at Ghazi Stadium. “God,” he whispered. “I’m sorry, I have such fond memories of Kabul. Hard to believe it’s the same place you’re telling me about.” “Have you been there lately?” “God no.” “It’s not Berkeley, I’ll tell you that,” I said. “Go on.” I told him the rest, the meeting with Assef, the fight, Sohrab and his slingshot, our escape back to Pakistan. When I was done, he scribbled a few notes, breathed in deeply, and gave me a sober look. “Well, Amir, you’ve got a tough battle ahead of you.” “One I can win?” He capped his pen. “At the risk of sounding like Raymond Andrews, it’s not likely. Not impossible, but hardly likely.” Gone was the affable smile, the playful look in his eyes. “But it’s kids like Sohrab who need a home the most,” I said. “These rules and regulations don’t make any sense to me.” “You’re preaching to the choir, Amir,” he said. “But the fact is, take current immigration laws, adoption agency policies, and the political situation in Afghanistan, and the deck is stacked against you.” “I don’t get it,” I said. I wanted to hit something. “I mean, I get it but I don’t get it.” Omar nodded, his brow furrowed. “Well, it’s like this. In the aftermath of a disaster, whether it be natural or man-made--and the Taliban are a disaster, Amir, believe me--it’s always difficult to ascertain that a child is an orphan. Kids get displaced in refugee camps, or parents just abandon them because they can’t take care of them. Happens all the time. So the INS won’t grant a visa unless it’s clear the child meets the definition of an eligible orphan. I’m sorry, I know it sounds ridiculous, but you need death certificates.” “You’ve been to Afghanistan,” I said. “You know how improbable that is.” “I know,” he said. “But let’s suppose it’s clear that the child has no surviving parent. Even then, the INS thinks it’s good adoption practice to place the child with someone in his own country so his heritage can be preserved.”“What heritage?” I said. “The Taliban have destroyed what heritage Afghans had. You saw what they did to the giant Buddhas in Bamiyan.”“I’m sorry, I’m telling you how the INS works, Amir,” Omar said, touching my arm. He glanced at Sohrab and smiled. Turned back to me. “Now, a child has to be legally adopted according to the laws and regulations of his own country. But when you have a country in turmoil, say a country like Afghanistan, government offices are busy with emergencies, and processing adoptions won’t be a top priority.” I sighed and rubbed my eyes. A pounding headache was settling in just behind them.“But let’s suppose that somehow Afghanistan gets its act together,” Omar said, crossing his arms on his protruding belly. “It still may not permit this adoption. In fact, even the more moderate Muslim nations are hesitant with adoptions because in many of those countries, Islamic law, Shari’a, doesn’t recognize adoption.” “You’re telling me to give it up?” I asked, pressing my palm to my forehead. 我把發生過的一切統統告訴他：我跟拉辛汗的會面、前往喀布爾、恤孤院、伽茲體育館的擲石頭。 “天！”他低聲驚呼，“很抱歉，我在喀布爾有很多美好的回憶。很難相信你剛纔告訴我的竟然是同一個地方。” “你後來回去過嗎？” “天，沒有。” “我會告訴你，那兒不是伯克利。”我說。 “繼續。” 我把剩下的都告訴他了：跟阿塞夫見面、搏鬥、索拉博和他的彈弓、逃回巴基斯坦。當我說完，他飛快地寫下一些東西，深深呼吸，鎮定地看了我一眼：“好了，阿米爾，你前面有場艱苦的戰鬥。” “我能打贏嗎？” 他把筆帽裝上。“就安德魯的語氣判斷，希望渺茫。不是不可能，但是機會很小。”和藹的笑容和戲謔的眼神不見了。 “可是像索拉博這樣的孩子最需要有個家，”我說，“這些規章制度對我來說毫無意義。” “我也心有慼慼，阿米爾。”他說，“但事實是，就當前的移民法、收養機構政策和阿富汗的政治局勢看來，你的情況很不妙。” “我真不理解，”我說，想找個東西揍一頓，“我是說，我明白，但是我不理解。” 奧馬爾點頭，雙眉緊鎖。“好了，就這樣。災難之後，不管天災還是人禍——塔利班真是一場大災難，阿米爾，相信我——一個孩子是否孤兒，總是很難判斷。孩子們被遺棄在難民營，或者被雙親拋棄，因爲他們無法加以照料。這些情況向來都有。所以除非孩子滿足孤兒的法律定義，否則移民局不會放發籤證。我很抱歉，我知道這聽起來很荒唐，但你需要一紙死亡證書。” “你在阿富汗住過，”我說，“你知道這事的可能性有多大。” “我知道，”他說，“但讓我們假設現在這個孩子父母雙亡的情況弄清楚了。即使那樣，移民局會認爲，最好由該國的人來收養這個孩子，以便他能保持本國的文化傳統。”“什麼傳統？”我說，“阿富汗有過的文化傳統被塔利班毀掉了。你知道他們怎麼對待巴米揚的大佛。”“很抱歉，我在告訴你的是移民局怎麼工作，阿米爾。”奧馬爾說，碰碰我的手臂。他望向索拉博，露出微笑，然後看着我。“說到這裏，一個孩子必須根據他自己國家的法規被合法地收養。但假如你碰到一個亂糟糟的國家，比如說阿富汗，政府官員會忙於處理各種突發事件，處理收養事宜不會得到優先考慮。” 我嘆氣，揉揉眼睛。眼睛後面突突發痛。“但是讓我們假設不管怎樣，阿富汗人肯幫忙。”奧馬爾說，雙手交叉放在隆起的肚子上，“這次收養仍有可能被拒絕。實際上，就算是那些較爲溫和的穆斯林國家，對收養也不無疑慮，因爲在多數這些國家中，穆斯林教法不贊同收養。” “你是在叫我放棄？”我問，用手壓着額頭。
