Honour Read Online Free PDF

asked the boy where his mother was and said, “Well, go tell your mother to come home early and prepare lunch for us. My family will stop by for a visit.
”’
    ‘But he is watching the door!’
    ‘Exactly.
Nasreddin was puzzled. His mother had advised him to do one thing and his uncle another. He didn’t want to disobey either of them. So he pulled up the door, saddled it on his back and went to get his mother.
’
    The boy chuckled but he quickly grew serious. ‘I wouldn’t do that. I would always choose my mother over my uncle.’
    No sooner had he said this than they heard a noise. Somebody had crossed the stream and was walking towards them. To Pembe’s – and the village elders’ – surprise it turned out to be an old woman. She had a spectacularly aquiline nose, hollows under her wrinkled cheekbones and a set of crooked teeth. Her small, beady eyes constantly moved, refusing to settle anywhere.
    Pembe told her that her son urgently needed a name and asked if she would kindly help, avoiding details like Naze’s ghost or the village elders waiting behind the bush. The old woman didn’t seem the least bit surprised. Leaning against her staff, she weighed something up in her head, calm and compliant, as if a request of this kind was the most ordinary thing in the world.
    ‘Mum, who is this?’ the child asked.
    ‘Hush, my lion. This nice lady here is going to give you a name.’
    ‘But she’s ugly.’
    Pretending not to hear that, the woman took a step closer and scrutinized the boy. ‘So you haven’t found your name yet, I gather.’
    The child raised his thin eyebrows, refusing to comment.
    ‘All right, well, I’m thirsty,’ she said, pointing to where the watercourse had formed an inlet. ‘Will you go and get me a cup of water?’
    ‘I don’t have a cup.’
    ‘Use your palms, then,’ the old woman insisted.
    With a deepening frown the boy glanced at the woman, then at his mother, and then at the stranger again. ‘No,’ he said, a new edge to his voice. ‘Why don’t you go and get your own water? I’m not your servant.’
    The woman tilted her head to one side, as if the words were a blow she had to dodge. ‘He doesn’t like to serve, does he? He only wants to be served.’
    By now Pembe was convinced that they had picked the wrong person. To appease the situation she said in her most conciliatory tones, ‘I’ll go and get you water.’
    But the woman didn’t drink the water Pembe brought to her, cupped in the palms of her hands. Instead she
read
it.
    ‘My daughter, this child will remain a boy for a long time and he will grow up only when he has reached mid-life. He will mature very late.’
    Pembe gasped. She had the distinct impression that the woman was about to give away a secret, something she wasn’t supposed to reveal.
    ‘Some children are like the Euphrates, so fast, so rowdy. Their parents cannot catch up with them. I’m afraid your son will break your heart to pieces.’
    The words fell between them like a stone hurled from out of nowhere.
    ‘But that’s not what I asked you,’ Pembe said, a bit tensely. ‘Have you thought of a name for him?’
    ‘Yes, I have. There are two names that might suit him well, depending on what you expect. One is Saalim. Once upon a time there was such a sultan. He was a poet and a fine musician to boot. May your son, too, learn to appreciate beauty should he be given this name.’
    ‘And the other?’ Pembe held her breath with anticipation. Even the boy seemed interested in the conversation now.
    ‘The second is the name of the great commander who always marched in front of his soldiers, fought like a tiger, won every battle, destroyed all his enemies, conquered land after land, united the East and the West, the sunrise and the sunset, and was still hungry for more. May your son, too, be invincible and strong-willed, and preside over other men should he be named after him.’
    ‘This one is better,’ said Pembe, her face