FIFTH DELIVERY

Although it was a little behind schedule for Kabul time, in the hall still was Lionel, a Catalan of clowns without borders: seated in a armchair, with the feet in the table, writing and drinking wine. He was a thin, high type, wearing a pierced good vagabond hat. He wrote occurring evident airs of intellectual. Macri and Maru sat down to his side and served two glasses of wine. The boy left his notebook. Macri introduced himself and interchanged the usual explanations about what was doing each one in Afghanistan. Lionel only had been two weeks there, had come accompanying a NGO that worked in hospitals for disabled people.

-And what impression have you got about the country in these weeks?

-Terrible, the damage. It is very sad what was done by Talibans.

-Only Talibans?

-Well, they mainly, although it is much more complicated; the history of Afghanistan in too complex for to explain it to you just in a while. Talibans, pasthuns, mujahidins… all are Muslim fanatics, but Taliban are the worse. They could kill a woman because of a slipped burka and destroyed all the televisions of the country. - Lionel was truly pedantic. He listened to Macri smiling:

-Really? And you have noticed it?

-You can notice in everything, as soon as you travel a little by the country.

-Have you travelled much?

-Good I have been in Herat. You do not imagine the dangerous thing that it is to move around over here. You must always go with escort.

-But I have heard that there are people who move by their own.

-No one does! It is impossible. What happens is that those that we work in small ngo, like us, we only have the driver and one escort man. Nobody finances loaded armored cars to us or the support of guards; the great organizations have it, but they do not give anything to us. We gambled the life, but it is because our roll is different, and in the way back, we are more independent.

-It is admirable.

-I know - It. We are in contact with the enemy with people, spoke with them and know as the country goes. The great organizations are civil servants.

-I guess you speak dari.

-No, but we have a very competent translator. Yusuf is called and in addition his is our driver and even he has got a pistol to protect us. He is the best thing that we have. He has really taught to me how it is Afghanistan and its customs. Once even I entered an Afghan house and the family invited to me to tea. It is all a tradition, very complicated to explain, is necessary to know well their culture to integrate yourself as we do.

-I do not have words… - Macri was already blatantly cynical. Nevertheless the clown did not realize it. Maru doubted between thundering against her friend with the glance and finishing falling into outbursts of laughter.

-And the war is terrible. Our task is one of most important here.

-You talk about the clowns?

-Sure. By speaking with women who have been attacked by their husbands I have reached the conclusion that the women here do not know how to play, you know? When I ask them to play some game with me they do not know to raise it. And if I ask them to tell me about games they cannot make specific it, they do not manage to generate a game with rules, development and objective. Uff, It scares.

-Truthly it does, panic is entering me - said to him Macri, while watching Maru, that had to cover her mouth to disguise an outburst of laughter.

-It is because of the trauma of the war. It is something typical.

-And it does not have anything to do whereupon they are Muslim, nor with their culture? Or whereupon they have an idea different from the games here?

-Not at all. I see that you do not know the country. The Muslim culture is a very glad culture, the children really enjoy themselves with our numbers and they follow our games without problems.

-You Are professional clowns – There, Maru was going to explode and laughter rose abruptly and she went away, running to the kitchen.

- Are you kidding or what?

- No, no, not at all. But, pardons, I am going to see what was going to do Maru. Macri rose with impudence and went to the kitchen. Lionel remained watching him, angry and with indignant face.

Maru was supported in the sink, with the hand covering her mouth and the whole body shaking in laughter spasms. When Macri entered the kitchen and he started to watch her smiling, she gave a strong tiny to him in the shoulder, without stopping to laugh:

-You are the worse; you caused me laughs in his face!

- No, the worse thing is how pedantic he is and his miserly opinions. The boy has not lowered of the car, he does not leave without escort, he does not understand a word of the country and above all that he thinks he is allowed to give lessons.

- Well, he should know something after being here for a month!

-You think so? Well if you see that he has never entered a kebabhouse. And he does not know nor how to say good morning in dari...

- To go to kebabhouses we have already seen that is not always a good idea.

- For sure. What fear! Thank heavens that the clown that has done at least that we escape together from him.

- I believe that they have made me real damage in my head.

- Poor girl… mmm.. and the boy says with impunity that the Afghan women do not know to invent interesting games because of the war! It is inconceivable, I cannot imagine anybody saying more stupidities per minute…

- I have said that it hurts to me- She interrupted him.

-Where?
-Here, in the side of my head- Maru was putting face of poor girl to him.

-You want that I kiss you there?

- Aha –She moved the head affirmatively.

- It is worth. - Macri approached to kiss her head smoothly, but when he was going to do it Maru turned the head and their lips meet.

The first time to kiss to any person is always special. It is as if when two mouths that do not know each other had a special texture. A fine but rough lame, that is worn away as the mouths get used one to the other. For that reason in the first kiss the lips always seem more droughts, rougher, without exploring. They are a magical space absolutely different of the rest of the body of each one.

Thus felt Maru and Macri. The kiss began dry, superficial, as if each mouth tweaked to the other. It was as an affection concentrate that was growing, like in waves. And then the kiss grew. It became humid. The lips began to open, to extend itself. He bit the inferior lip of her; she the one of him. In just a short time the two mouths were playing one with the other, without limits already. They were kissing awhile long, in silence, dedicated to feel. They became lean, they bit, they were caressing with the tongue. The bites began to be stronger and then they had to tighten one against the other. Macri felt the chest of Maru tighten against his breast and her hips hitting his.

Than Maru separated of Macri, she took his hand:

- Lets go to my room.

Both passed, running and stingy of the hand in front of the Catalan clown, who keep watching them seriously.