Hospitality

"Peace be with you," I said.

"And also with you," he replied. He looked at the bruise on my cheek and then said, "Come in."

I followed him through the courtyard to the guest room. He did not suggest I sleep in the mosque. He put a cushion under me, gathered twigs, fed the fire, and blew on it till it flamed fiercely. Then he asked if I would give him my socks so he could dry them. I did so gratefully. Then he left and returned with a pot of sugared tea and sat cross-legged in silence watching me drink. When I had finished, he brought plates of rice and spinach and said, "We are still the commandants in the valley, but the Taliban killed our flocks, so I am sorry that I can't give you meat. This food has been given by foreigners."

Only when he saw I was warm and had finished eating did he lean forward and ask, "And who are you? And where are you from?"

(from The Places In Between by Rory Stewart)