Stone and kiss

I go for a walk with my friend Viiu, who is interested to visit a distant shop of afghan handicraft. It seems that we tread forever on dusty streets. I try to follow shade because of sharp midday sun. Only one month back I tried to follow the sunny side. When we walk on the street full of men – it is a place where generators and spare parts for cars are sold – I am hit by a little stone. I look around, quite surprised, but I see nothing special. Was it just an accidental stone?
Some minutes later some ladies in burkas with a little boy, pretty as a picture, pass us. Suddenly boy stops, says “salam” and reaches out his hand. I take his hand and surprisingly he kisses my hand respectfully.
There are some moments it seems that I can understand afghans. Hans, professor of Cambridge University, tells about his talented Pakistani-origin student, who just disappears in the middle of his academic studies. Later he shows up with an excuse of solving family problems. For Hans it is obvious, that this guy spoilt his academic career. But we, living in Afghanistan, get used with “vanishing” - when afghan family has a problem, every member has to do his/her best to help.
However, sometimes I am confused because even the simplest thing can have another meaning. One day I was walking along the street alone. In front of me there was a man, carrying the armful of naan usbeki (rounded thin bread in dari language). He dropped some naan and I automatically stooped to help him. The next moment I realized that this guy was really irritated because of my unbidden help.