Shooting Kabul

Shooting Kabul

by N. H. Senzai


$8.98 $8.99 Save 0% Current price is $8.98, Original price is $8.99. You Save 0%.
View All Available Formats & Editions
Use Standard Shipping. For guaranteed delivery by December 24, use Express or Expedited Shipping.

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781442401952
Publisher: Simon & Schuster/Paula Wiseman Books
Publication date: 07/12/2011
Series: Kabul Chronicles Series
Edition description: Reprint
Pages: 288
Sales rank: 47,224
Product dimensions: 5.10(w) x 7.60(h) x 1.00(d)
Age Range: 8 - 12 Years

About the Author

N.H. Senzai is the author of Shooting Kabul, which was critically acclaimed and on numerous award lists. Publishers Weekly called it “hard hitting, emotionally wrenching.” Her second book, Saving Kabul Corner, was nominated for an Edgar Award. She is also the author of Ticket to India and Escape from Aleppo. Ms. Senzai lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with her family. Visit her online at

Read an Excerpt

IT’S A PERFECT NIGHT to run away, thought Fadi, casting a brooding look at the bright sheen of the moon through the cracked backseat window. It reminded him of the first line of the book From the Mixed-up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler.

“Claudia knew that she could never pull off the old-fashioned kind of running away.”

Fadi was only halfway through the first chapter, so he didn’t know how successful Claudia had been in her getaway, old-fashioned or not, but he sure hoped that his family would be. If they weren’t, they were going to be in an awful lot of trouble.

Under the protective cover of darkness, the taxi he and his family were traveling in swerved around a bombed-out Soviet tank and exited the pockmarked highway. They needed to avoid the checkpoints set up by black-turbaned men on the main road. With the headlights turned off, the car careened over a rocky plain, rattling the passengers’ teeth. Fadi pressed his nose against the cold glass, peering across the desolate landscape.

His reflection flashed back, revealing a thin face with unruly dark hair escaping from beneath a traditional beaded cap. His nose sloped slightly to the left, evidence he’d broken it once. He held his breath when the driver nearly hit a tree stump while plowing through a parched wheat field. Another mile and they arrived at the outskirts of the sprawling city of Jalalabad, in the eastern province of Afghanistan.

The driver slowed, weaving his way through narrow alleys toward the crumbling buildings that rose in the distance. They bypassed quiet residential neighborhoods and a shuttered local vegetable market. Finally, the brakes squeaked in protest and the taxi came to a lurching halt alongside a row of deserted warehouses. The concrete walls were riddled with bullet holes and grenade blasts.

“Is this it?” asked Fadi’s father, leaning forward in the front seat.

“Yes, Habib. We’re on the corner of Jalalkot Road and Turi Street,” replied the driver.

Habib peered at the corner, his lips compressed in a tight line.

“As a boy I remember coming here with my father,” added the driver with a heavy sigh. “For generations the merchants here created beautiful handcrafted paper.”

Fadi took in the desolate junction, trying to imagine bustling streets, shops overflowing with stacks of gleaming paper, customers haggling over prices.

“All right, then,” said Habib, his voice quavering for a moment. “Let’s go.”

“Come on, Fadi, snap out of it,” whispered Noor, Fadi’s older sister. She pushed open the door and stepped out first, followed gingerly by their mother.

“Zafoona,” said Habib, turning to his wife, “are you all right?”

“Yes,” said Zafoona, her voice a thin whisper.

Noor took her mother’s elbow and gently propelled her toward the side of the road.

Fadi emerged next, keeping a protective hand on his younger sister, Mariam, who slid out behind him. The faint moonlight provided just enough light to help guide them into the sheltered doorstep of a shuttered tea shop nearby. Noor and Fadi’s mother stood enveloped in burkas, two smudges of light blue against the drab gray walls.

Fadi glanced back and saw his father push a wad of cash toward the frail white-haired taxi driver, who shook his head. After a heated whispered discussion the driver finally pocketed the money and opened the trunk so that Habib could pull out their meager belongings. Fadi eyed the two scuffed suitcases. Most of what they’d owned—the plush carpets, color television and video player, radios, jewelry, fine china, toys, clothes and even his mother’s beloved books—had been sold on the black market, or used as bribes to get their paperwork and passports in order.

Salaam Alaikum, and good luck, Habib,” whispered the driver. His eyes glanced nervously over the deserted, dusty street.

Walaikum A’Salaam, Professor Sahib, and thank you for risking your life to bring us here,” replied Fadi’s father with a grim smile.

“How could I not?” replied the driver. “You were my best student in Kabul University,” he added, cracking a tired smile.

“That was a long, long time ago,” said Habib, giving the man a fierce parting hug.

The family said their good-byes and watched as the taxi disappeared down the road, its broken taillight fading into the gloom.

Fadi peered down the empty street, trying to make out the words on the broken signs lying on the dusty pavement. ZAKARIA’S PAPER EMPORIUM read one, while another claimed to have the finest writing vellum in all of Afghanistan.

The eerie stillness was broken by muffled coughing as Zafoona covered her mouth with a handkerchief. Before she could tuck it away, Fadi saw a trace of blood on the snowy white cloth.

She is getting worse, he thought, worry creasing his forehead. He glanced at his father, who gave him an encouraging wink and gently squeezed his shoulder. Fadi smiled in return, but he could see the fear lingering in his father’s eyes, fear coupled with determination. As a Pukhtun, his father was bound by the ancient, sacred code of Pukhtunwali to protect his namus—the women of his family—with his life. With a shiver Fadi recalled the moment, nearly six months before, when his father had revealed his plan.

It was a blustery day in January as the family sat together at breakfast, trying to keep warm under layers of clothing. Fadi’s mother set down a plate of old bread she’d reheated, along with chunks of white cheese, a rare treat.

“Ooooh!” said Mariam. Her hazel eyes sparkled as her fork inched closer to the plate. “Something to go with boring old bread… . Come to me, my yummy in the bummy tummy.” At Zafoona’s nod she speared a large sliver.

“Hey!” squawked Noor in mock anger. “Leave some for us.” She poked Mariam in her ticklish spot, under the ribs, and got a loud giggle.

“I only took a tiny, tiny piece!” squealed Mariam, and wiggled out of the way.

“Girls, behave yourselves,” said Zafoona, casting them a weary disapproving glance.

While Mariam spread cheese on the bread, her expression turned serious. She glanced at Noor with pursed lips. “Hey, Noor,” she said in a loud whisper.

“What, Ms. Yummy in the Bummy Tummy?”

“I need your help with something.”

“With what?”

“Will you teach me how to sew Gulmina a new dress?” Next to Mariam’s plate sat a Barbie that was the envy of all her friends. She’d inherited Gulmina from Noor when her older sister had outgrown it. And now, even though the doll’s features had faded and she was missing her left hand, Gulmina accompanied Mariam everywhere.

Noor took a piece of cheese and looked at her younger sister with a raised eyebrow.

“Please, please, pretty please?” begged Mariam. “I’ll do your chores this whole week—peel the potatoes and turnips, take out the garbage, and iron the clothes.”

“I don’t know … ,” began Noor. “You’re not even allowed to use the iron—”

“Please,” cried Mariam. “I’ll do whatever you want.” She put on her sad puppy-dog face and flashed two dimples at her older sister.

“Oh, all right.” Noor sighed. “I guess there’s nothing better to do than design a new wardrobe for Gulmina the Glamorous.”

“Sure,” said Mariam eagerly. She chattered on about what colors to use, mostly lavender and pink, while braiding Gulmina’s patchy honey-colored hair.

Fadi tuned out his sisters’ phenomenally boring conversation, added a chunk of crumbly brown sugar to his watered-down hot milk, and stirred. He watched fat snowflakes swirl through the crisp air and land in the backyard. He shut his left eye and pretended to look through the viewfinder of his father’s old camera, which Habib had given to Fadi for his eleventh birthday, a few months before. He squinted, framing the old plum tree against the cloudless blue sky. He wished the weather were better. Maybe he could have convinced his father to take him to the quiet back hills of the city to take pictures. But, no. It was too cold—and too risky—to be caught with a camera. His eye fluttered open as his father cleared his throat.

“I have something I need to tell you,” said Habib.

Fadi glanced away from the accumulating snow with a frown. His father didn’t sound like himself.

“The situation has become too dangerous for us here,” said Habib. There were deep circles under his eyes, as if he hadn’t slept for many nights.

“Situation.” That’s an understatement, thought Fadi as he resumed stirring his milk. Over the past year things had gotten more and more frightening. Even going out for bread could get you in all sorts of trouble.

“And so it’s set. We are leaving,” announced Habib, looking around the table.

“Leaving?” Fadi mumbled, blinking slowly, like a confused owl.

“What?” said Noor, as her fork dropped with a loud clang.

Zafoona sat calmly. It was as if she had been expecting the news.

“Father, what do you mean we’re leaving?” asked Noor.

Even Mariam, who’d been busy scraping out the last of the honey from a metal tin, paused to stare at her father. “Why are we leaving?” she asked, her brows knitted in confusion.

“Your mother needs better medical care,” said Habib.

Fadi glanced at his mother’s pale face. She sat shivering, cold despite wearing two sweaters, one of Habib’s old coats, and a shawl. She’d caught a cold at the beginning of winter and it had gotten worse. The few doctors left in Kabul didn’t have the right equipment to diagnose what was ailing her or the right medication to make her better. She’d taken a turn for the worse the week before when they’d buried her mother, Fadi’s grandmother, in the cold, hard ground next to her husband.

“It’s because of them, isn’t it?” said Mariam, her eyes wise beyond her six years.

They all knew who she meant—them, the Taliban.

“Yes, jaan.” Habib sighed, reaching across the table to ruffle Mariam’s fine reddish brown hair. “The Taliban have made it very difficult for us here.”

Zafoona cradled her steaming cup in her hands. “It had to come to this,” she murmured, muffling a cough.

“You were right, Zafoona jaan,” Habib said with a deep sigh. “We shouldn’t have come back.”

“You only had the best intentions for the country … for the people,” said Zafoona. She patted her husband’s hand. Her face was laced with sadness and a trace of pity.

Mariam frowned, looking from one parent to the other. “What do you mean, ‘We shouldn’t have come back’?”

“Mariam jaan,” said Zafoona, giving her youngest daughter a resigned look. “Remember I told you we used to live in America?”

Mariam nodded. “Father went to university there to get his P … PH … PH something.”

Noor wrinkled her nose. “PhD, silly. Doctorate of Philosophy in Agriculture.”

“Yeah, PhD,” said Mariam, grimacing at Noor’s know-it-all-ness.

“You were born in America, in Wisconsin,” added Noor.

“But why did we come back to Afghanistan, then?” asked Mariam, her sticky fingers drumming against the table, the honey tin forgotten.

“Father and Mother wanted to help the people in Afghanistan,” said Fadi, trying to shut her up. He wanted to know more about how they were going to leave.

“And you did help them? Right?” prodded Mariam. Zafoona’s lips tightened at her impertinence, but she stayed silent.

Fadi rolled his eyes. Mariam somehow managed to get away with everything.

“Yes, jaan,” explained Habib, as if trying to remember it all himself. “When we returned to Afghanistan, the Taliban asked me to help get rid of the country’s vast poppy fields that were used to make drugs.”

Fadi had heard this all before, how Afghanistan had become the world’s largest producer of opium and how the heroin derived from the poppies was ruining the country.

Mariam nodded uncomfortably. She had seen the thin, ragged drug addicts huddled on street corners, begging for scraps.

“Slowly I convinced the farmers to destroy their poppy plants and start growing food for the hungry people,” said Habib.

“Your father worked very hard,” interrupted Zafoona, “but things didn’t work out as we’d hoped.”

Fadi looked at his father’s defeated expression with growing apprehension. His father had always been optimistic, even during the most difficult times.

“But if the Taliban did such a good thing, why are they bad now?” asked Mariam.

“Mariam,” said Zafoona, her tone full of warning.

“It’s all right,” said Habib, holding up a weary hand. He turned to Mariam, his expression solemn. “It’s human nature, Mariam jaan. Whenever someone is handed lots of power, they have a tendency to abuse it. The Taliban was a group of young religious students. When they first came to power, they brought peace and order to the country. But with time their strict interpretation of Islam began suppressing the people they’d helped free.”

“That’s why they made you grow a beard,” Mariam said, and smiled, reaching out to stroke her father’s face.

Habib laughed. “Yes, they did, didn’t they? But what they don’t see is that you cannot force someone to be religious. It must come from their heart.”

“It’s not fair,” burst out Noor. “The Taliban is oppressing everyone, with a version of Islam that they’ve cooked up. They’ve banned everything! Music, movies, books, photography, and kite flying. Show me where it says that in the Qur’an. Show me!”

Fadi knew that wasn’t the main reason she was upset. Although many women in Afghanistan traditionally chose to wear the burka, a head-to-toe covering—including his grandmother and his aunts—the Taliban now made it mandatory. Women were compelled to cover up when they ventured outside. Worst of all, they’d closed down the girls’ schools, saying the schools would reopen when stability and safety had been restored to the country.

Zafoona murmured, “Oppression is the worst thing in Allah’s eyes. He forbade it not only for himself but also for us.”

“True,” said Habib, “but unfortunately, the world is full of oppression—oppression of men against men, group against group, and nation against nation.”

Fadi sighed. Life in Afghanistan had become more and more dangerous for their family, especially since the Taliban’s most recent visit to their house.

“Where are they?” grumbled Noor, interrupting Fadi’s thoughts. She tapped her foot and pulled back her burka, revealing flashing brown eyes under arched eyebrows.

“They should be here any minute,” Habib said in a soothing voice.

Fadi pulled Mariam under the tattered awning as she tried to inch toward a skinny dog nosing through a pile of garbage. She hadn’t spoken a word during the white-knuckled six-hour ride from their home in the capital city of Kabul. Now she clutched Gulmina at her side and looked up at Fadi, a frown marring her usually cheerful round face.

“It’ll be great, you’ll see,” he whispered. “There’s lots of chocolate where we’re going. And Barbies,” he added with a grin.

She nodded, fingering the bright pink burka that enveloped Gulmina. Noor had sewn it for her just the week before, during a fit of boredom. The Taliban had banned all toys that depicted human figures, since they were considered sacrilegious, so Gulmina was hidden away in the folds of the bright cloth. “If you say so,” murmured Mariam.

“I do say so,” said Fadi, ruffling her hair. He sensed that Mariam knew they were never going back to their sprawling villa on Shogund Street, with its airy rooms and plum trees in the backyard. Well, only one plum tree. Since the war, the trees had been cut down for firewood. And after years of neglect and lack of money for repairs, the house was falling apart.

“Remember,” whispered Habib, pinning an especially stern gaze on Mariam, “under no circumstance are you to tell anyone your real name. If anyone asks, tell them we are farmers escaping the fighting in our village.”

Mariam nodded with a gulp. She’d been warned repeatedly not to reveal who they were or they could be arrested and taken back to Kabul.

“And, Fadi, pay attention. We won’t have a lot of time once the truck shows up.”

Fadi nodded, straightening his back.

Habib glanced down at his wrist, but it was bare. He’d given his watch to their faithful servant, Shamim, that morning as they’d left the house. “What time is it, Noor?” he asked, pulling thoughtfully on his white-streaked beard.

“Seven minutes past midnight,” replied Noor, glancing down at her glow-in-the-dark Mickey Mouse watch with the frayed strap.

A braying donkey rounded the corner, its owner in tow, causing the family to shrink against the building, trying to disappear into the shadows. Fadi peeked around the cement wall to watch the one-legged man pet the long-eared animal. Fadi closed his left eye and imagined the scene through his camera’s viewfinder. There was something sad yet endearing about the image. Many men, women, and children had lost limbs to land mines across the country. Fadi blinked, his eyes watery. For all the problems in Afghanistan, this was still home. Dread crept into his heart. Would this be the last time he ever saw it?

“Oh, Rosebud, my lovely four-legged friend,” coaxed the man. “Let’s go home so you can have potato peels for dinner.”

Rosebud tried to bite her owner, causing Mariam to smother a giggle.

Fadi smiled and shrugged off his morose thoughts. His mind wandered back to Claudia and her great escape. We need to be successful in ours. He didn’t want to imagine what the Taliban would do to his father if they were caught.

© 2010 Naheed Hasnat

Reading Group Guide

A Reading Group Guide to

Shooting Kabul

By N. H. Senzai


The discussion questions and activities that follow are intended to enhance your reading of Shooting Kabul. Please feel free to adapt these materials to suit the needs of your classroom or community group.


1. Chapter 1 begins with the sentence, “It’s a perfect night to run away . . .” From what is the family running at the opening of the story? Describe at least three ways in which running away (or choosing to stay) is an important idea in terms of the novel’s plot and themes.

2. Describe the main character, Fadi. What are his interests and dreams? What roles does he play within both his immediate family and his larger Afghan community in California? How are Fadi’s family and community relationships similar to, or different from, your own?

3. Why did Fadi’s father, Habib, choose to return to Afghanistan? What does this choice tell you about Habib? If you were a member of Habib’s family, how would you have felt about this decision?

4. What happens to Fadi’s sister, Mariam, as the family embarks on their escape from Afghanistan? How are feelings of guilt and responsibility about this incident expressed differently by various members of the family?

5. What do Fadi’s memories of life with Mariam teach readers about Afghanistan? What type of doll is Gulmina? Is this important? In what ways might this doll be viewed as a symbol of the west? Can you think of other ideas represented by Gulmina?

6. How does Fadi react to meeting his extended family in San Francisco? How does Mariam’s absence affect this reunion? In what ways do family members reach out to Fadi, Noor, and their parents? What is life like in Uncle Amin’s house? What job does Habib take in America?

7. At his new school, Fadi “. . . felt as though he were hidden behind a camera lens, watching another world whirl past in shattered fragments.” What does this observation tell you about Fadi’s adaptation to his new school? Is he able to form friendships? What kinds of groups does he encounter at school?

8. What happens to Fadi’s camera? What does Fadi’s behavior after the fight with Felix teach you about Fadi? Who helps Fadi enter the photography contest anyway? What is the first picture Fadi takes for the contest? Why does he reject this picture as his contest entry?

9. How does Fadi discover the real picture he wants to take? What brings him to this decision? Have you ever entered a creative or athletic contest? What were your hopes for the outcome? How are they similar to, or different from, Fadi’s reasons for wanting to win?

10. Does Fadi win the contest? How does the contest experience help the family find Mariam? Once Mariam gets to America, do you think Fadi and the others are able to let go of their guilt? Explain your answer.

11. How does the author interweave real world events with the fictional story of Fadi and his family? How do the events of September 11, 2001, affect Fadi’s school and home life? What types of misunderstandings about the Muslim faith and Middle Easterners more generally are shown in the novel? What has the novel taught you about Afghan culture?

12. Why is this novel entitled “Shooting Kabul”? Were you surprised, when you reached the end of the story, at the meaning of “shooting” that the author wanted to convey? After finishing the novel and reading the subsequent Author’s Note, what do you feel is the most important idea or message of this story?


I. Through the Lens

1. Write a short essay describing what photograph you would choose enter a “Take Your Best Shot” contest. If possible, take some pictures. Choose your best shot and write a brief explanation of why you like your selection. With friends or classmates, create a photography display.

2. The author uses the camera, and photography-related words and images, to help readers better understand Fadi’s experiences. Include photography-related language to write a journal entry describing an experience in your own life.

3. Go to your local library or bookstore and look through books by famous photographers such as Ansel Adams, Dorothea Lange, and Alfred Stieglitz. Select a photograph that is particularly thought-provoking or inspiring to you. Write a short essay describing the photograph and your thoughts.

4. Go to the library or online to find a picture of Fadi’s old camera, the Minolta XE. Write a short paragraph explaining the history of this camera. Then research cameras and photography to choose a camera you would like to use if you were entering a photography contest. Write a brief description of this camera.

II. Beyond the Book

1. Read Fadi’s favorite book, From the Mixed-up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler by E. L. Konigsburg. Then write a two- to three-page essay explaining why you think this book is so meaningful to Fadi.

2. Do you have a favorite book that you read again and again? Create a poster featuring this book. Include a summary of the plot, a list of main characters, and illustrations of the cover or other important images. Present your poster to friends or classmates, making sure to explain why this book is special to you.

3. Both Shooting Kabul and From the Mixed-up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler feature works of art. N. H. Senzai includes the work of fictional photographer Clive Murray. E. L. Konigsburg’s mystery involves the art of Michelangelo. Using what you have learned from reading these novels, write an essay explaining how art and literature can help young people learn more about themselves.

4. Running away is an important concept in both novels. Create a poem, song lyrics, drawing, story, or other creative work exploring the idea of running away.


1. Afghanistan is a country with a rich history. Create an illustrated time line of at least twenty notable moments in Afghan history beginning as far back as 500 b.c.

2. In her Author’s Note, N. H. Senzai tells readers that she “didn’t want to write this book.” Write a letter to the author explaining why you are thankful she did write Shooting Kabul after all.

3. Go to the library or online to find a map of modernday Afghanistan. Learn more about the various ethnic groups that live in this country, including Pukhtun, Tajik, Hazara, and Uzbek. Research the Taliban and the effect this organization has had on Afghanistan. Find a newspaper article less than two weeks old that provides information on the current situation in Afghanistan. Imagine you are an advisor to the American president. Present information from your research to help the president better understand the situation in Afghanistan.

4. Go to the library or online to find a recipe for mantu. With adult help, prepare this dish for friends or classmates. Invite friends or classmates to share favorite ethnic recipes enjoyed by their families. Create a class cookbook, including recipes and short paragraphs in which each student explains the origin or importance of the recipe they shared.

Customer Reviews

Most Helpful Customer Reviews

See All Customer Reviews

Shooting Kabul 4.1 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 23 reviews.
JuneBug4 More than 1 year ago
I really enjoyed this book. As I neared the end, I could not put it down. This is a wonderful book to read with upper-elementary/middle school students. I'm sure we will have some interesting discussions about it in our school's book club.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
This book is great!
GuardianMom More than 1 year ago
During the 1980's Husband and wife flee Afghanistan and the husband earns his Ph.D. During the life in the USA they have 3 children. When his visa is up and the father has graduated. The Father has determined that he must return to Afghanistan. The family stays for several years. The father hoped to return to Afghanistan to help the people. His plans don't work out. The Taliban want him to represent them to the world. His mind wont't let him. The Talaban wants him dead. Instead the family of 5 plans to escape. During confusion of too many people and the talaban shooting during the escape. The 6 year old is lost. The family goes through great emotional turmoil as they get their lives back during the time of the 9/11 attacks. It is insightful without being over bearing
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Its a perfect day to run away, thought Fadi, casting a brooding look at the bright sheen of the moon through the cracked backseat window. It reminded him of the first line of the mixed up files of ms basil e frankenwieler. What a beginning.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Amazing storyline to an adventourus and tragic story!
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
One of the best books i've every read! Literally could'nt put it down! ~k
ChrisWarren on LibraryThing 19 days ago
THis book came highly recommended, but in the end I found it too simplistic and didactic. An enjoyable story nevertheless.
abbylibrarian on LibraryThing 19 days ago
After the Taliban pressures his father to join them, Fadi and his family must flee Afghanistan. They sell all their belongings and use their life savings to secure passage to Pakistan. On the night that they board the truck, something terrible happens. People are scrambling to board the truck, desperate to escape the country. Fadi's six-year-old sister Mariam drops her doll and, in turning back to look for it, lets go of Fadi's hand. The truck takes off, trying to outrun the Taliban members who have appeared on the scene. And Mariam is left behind in Afghanistan as Fadi and the rest of his family make their way to America. Will they ever see her again? Shooting Kabul is a moving portrait of one family's escape from Afghanistan and their struggle to adapt to life in America, especially post-9/11. It'll make the issues in Afghanistan clearer to kids who might have a muddy picture of what's happened "over there" during the last decade. The plot lagged in a few places, but the book is successful overall and I'll definitely be looking for more from this debut author.
KarenBall on LibraryThing 19 days ago
11-year-old Fadi's father earned a doctoral degree in agriculture from a Wisconsin university, and returned with his family to help the war-torn nation of Afghanistan recover after the Taliban took over. The Taliban government, at first open to scholars like Habib, became more and more repressive and restrictive. In the summer of 2001, Fadi and his family pay smugglers to make a desperate midnight escape from Afghanistan into Pakistan. In the chaos of trying to get everyone on the truck in the crowd, with the Taliban fighters closing in, Fadi's 6-year-old sister Mariam lets go of his hand and is left behind. The family searches as long as it can before the travel visas expire, and they sadly continue on to San Francisco without Mariam, though relatives continue to search for her in Afghanistan. Family is everything in their Pukhtun culture, which makes Miriam's absence that much worse. Fadi experiences 9/11 just after school starts, and he is the target of anti-Muslim bullying. Others are as well, and there is a subplot involving realistic events, choices and consequences. Fadi finds a kind ally in his art teacher, who encourages him to join the photography club. There he finds friends and a contest where the grand prize is a trip to India... close to Pakistan. If he could win it, he and his father could search for Mariam! Fadi's Afghani culture is something to experience, with food, customs, traditions, visits to the mosque and the message of peace from the imam's sermons and readings from the Qur'an. The ending may be a little too set-up for some, but I liked the way it wrapped all of the parts of the story together. This is a wonderful walk in someone else's shoes, and one that I hope you all pick up. 6th grade and up.
skstiles612 on LibraryThing 19 days ago
Okay, get your box of tissues ready. From the minute I opened this book I could not put it down. The opening situation was such I had to read to find out how it ended. Usually I will skip to the ending then go back and fill in the details. This one I read straight through. I could not imagine what this family went through trying to escape the Taliban. My heart broke for Fadi when he realized he had messed up and lost the one thing he was responsible for, his six year old sister Mariam, how scared she must have been. As a mother if it had been me leaving my child behind I would have been inconsolable. Fadi and his family are trying to figure out how to return to find her when September 11 happens. Now Fadi faces extreme prejudice at school. He joins the photography club and learns of a contest that might take him to India if he wins. After all, he reasons, India is close enough to Afghanistan that he could have a better chance of finding his sister. This is a must read and I have the perfect student picked out to read it first.
ewyatt on LibraryThing 19 days ago
Fadi and his family leave Afghanistan after his dad is being pressured by the Taliban to help them. Unfortunately, as they try to leave, the youngest in the family, Mariam, is left behind. All feel partly responsible for this, but Fadi feels most guilty. He hears about a photography contest which he tries to win as a way to get a trip to India which he feels will help him search for his sister. The book attempts to do a lot of teaching, at times it felt a bit didactic to me. The was a bit about the history of Afghanistan incorporated within the story, photo composition, and the Taliban. These parts slowed the narrative a bit. However, I enjoyed the book. I really liked Fadi and found the characters in his family interesting and likable. The story of Fadi adjusting to life in America as his family is trying to find and reunite with Mariam all the while.
Anonymous 6 months ago
This delightful book was a random find at Barnes and Noble, and I'm so, so glad I picked it up. Senzai weaves a beautiful story with vibrant characters, and manages to fit a wealth of cultural and historic information about Afghanistan and Pakhtuns almost seamlessly into the tale. There were a few writing-style choices I found a bit distracting, but overall this book just shines. I would highly recommend this to young and old readers alike who want learn more about the heartbreaking, hopeful story of Afghanistan, perfectly embodied in sweet Fadi.
Shreya-D More than 1 year ago
I read this book when I was in third grade, and I thought it was very interesting. I didn't understand it that much though because I was a very young. I thought about it again though when I was older, and I realized how amazing, and perfect it was. I reccomend this for all 5th-8th graders, because the story is heart warming and lovely. Fans of this should read Words in the Dust.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I found this book really boring. It didn't really had a climax and it wasn't really intresting. I would not recomend this book.