“Your father is a great man.”
“你爸爸很了不起。”
“And you are a lucky boy.”
“你是个幸运的孩子。”
“I know,” he whispered back.
“我知道。”他小声答道。
Adel looked up. It was the teacher Malalai who had leaned in and whispered this in his ear. A plump, middle-aged woman wearing a violet beaded shawl around her shoulders, she smiled at him now with her eyes shut.
阿德尔抬起头。原来是马拉拉伊老师弯下腰，在他耳边小声说了这么一句。她是个圆滚滚的中年妇人，肩膀上围着一条紫色披巾，上面缀了好多小珠子。她笑眯眯地看着他，眼睛都睁不开了。
Good, she mouthed.
好。她张开嘴巴，不出声地说。
“Afghanistan is mother to us all,” Adel’s father said, one thick index finger raised skyward. The sun caught the band of his agatering. “But she is an ailing mother, and she has suffered for a long time. Now, it is true a mother needs her sons in order to recover. Yes, but she needs her daughters too — as much, if not more!”
“阿富汗是咱们所有人的母亲。”阿德尔的父亲说着，朝天竖起了粗大的食指，玛瑙戒指在阳光下闪闪发光。“但是，咱们的母亲生了病，病了很长时间。这个时候，母亲需要儿子们帮她好起来，这毫无疑问，可母亲也需要女儿们，同样需要，也许更需要！”
They were standing on the front steps of the town’s new school for girls, a rectangular light green building with a flat roof and wide windows, as Adel’s father, his Baba jan, delivered a brief prayer followed by an animated speech. Gathered before them in the blazing midday heat was a large crowd of squinting children, parents, and elders, roughly a hundred or so locals from the small town of Shadbagh-e-Nau, “New Shadbagh.”
他们站在本镇新建女校的正门台阶上。这是一幢四四方方的淡绿色楼房，平平的楼顶，宽大的窗户。阿德尔的父亲，他的巴巴江，做了简短的祷告，随后发表了热情洋溢的讲话。群众聚集在他们面前，有孩子，也有家长和老人，大约一百来号，在正午灼人的热浪包围下，眯缝着眼睛。他们都是当地人，家住小镇沙德巴盖瑙，也就是“新沙德巴格”。
His father continued. And Adel’s eyes connected with Kabir, one of Baba jan’s two bodyguards standing impassively on the other side of Baba jan, Kalashnikov in hand. Adel could see the crowd reflected in Kabir’s dark-lensed aviator glasses. Kabir was short, thin, almost frail, and wore suits with flashy colors — lavender, turquoise, orange — but Baba jan said he was a hawk and that underestimating him was a mistake you made at your own peril.
父亲继续讲话。阿德尔和卡比尔交换了一下眼神。卡比尔是巴巴江两个保镖中的一个，此时手拿卡拉什尼科夫冲锋枪，面无表情地站在巴巴江的另一侧。他戴着一副飞行眼镜，阿德尔可以从黑色镜片上看到人群的影子。卡比尔又矮又瘦，简直弱不禁风，一身西装颜色俗艳，淡紫，青绿，橙黄，可巴巴江说他是老鹰，谁要是小看他，可就犯了大错，等于自寻死路。
“So I say this to you, young daughters of Afghanistan,” Baba jan concluded, his long, thick arms outstretched in an open gesture of welcome. “You have a solemn duty now. To learn, to apply yourselves, to excel at your studies, to make proud not only your own fathers and mothers but the mother who is common to us all. Her future is in your hands, not mine. I ask that you not think of this school as a gift from me to you. It is merely a building that houses the true gift inside, and that is you. You are the gift, young sisters, not only to me and to the community of Shadbagh-e-Nau but, most importantly, to Afghanistan herself! God bless you.”
“所以我要对你们讲，阿富汗年轻的女儿们。”巴巴江开始总结，他伸出两条又粗又长的胳膊，做出了欢迎的手势。“你们现在肩负着庄严的使命，要好好学习，专心致志，学有所成，不仅要让你们自己的父亲和母亲为你们骄傲，也要让咱们所有人共同的母亲感到自豪。她的未来在你们手里，而不在我手里。我请求你们，不要把这座学校当成我送给你们的礼物。这只不过是一座楼，楼里装着的才是真正的礼物，那就是你们。你们才是礼物，年轻的姐妹们，你们不仅是给我的礼物，不仅是给沙德巴盖瑙全体人民的礼物，最重要的是，你们是给阿富汗母亲的礼物！真主保佑你们。”
This drew loud applause and several calls and hoots of approval. Adel scanned the faces in the crowd. They were rapt as they looked up at his father. Baba jan, with his black bushy eyebrows and full beard, standing tall and strong and wide above them, his shoulders nearly broad enough to fill the entryway to the school behind him.
这番话引发了热烈的掌声，还有几嗓子喝彩。阿德尔扫视了一下听众的面孔。他们心醉神迷地仰望着他父亲。巴巴江站在他们面前，高大，强壮，魁伟，两道黑黑的浓眉，满脸的大胡子，肩膀几乎和身后的楼门一样宽。
“Go ahead,” Baba jan said, dropping him a wink.
“去吧。”巴巴江说着，冲他使了个眼色。
Adel cut the ribbon. Long applause broke out. Adel heard the clicking of a few cameras, voices crying out “Allah-u-akbar!”
阿德尔剪断了红布。掌声经久不息。他听到好几台相机按着快门，人们高呼“真主至大！”
The teacher Malalai handed Baba jan a pair of scissors. A red ribbon had been tied across the entryway to the classroom. The crowd inched closer to get a better view, and Kabir motioned a few people back, shoved a couple of them in the chest. Hands rose from the crowd, holding cell phones to video the ribbon cutting. Baba jan took the scissors, paused, turned to Adel and said, “Here, son, you do the honors.” He handed the scissors to Adel.
马拉拉伊老师递给巴巴江一把剪刀。通往教室的楼门两边绑起了一块红布。群众想看得更清楚，越挤越近，卡比尔朝几个人示意，让他们后退，还推搡着其中两人的胸口。很多人高举手臂，拿着手机，给剪彩录像。巴巴江接过剪刀，迟疑了一下，然后转向阿德尔：“来，儿子，你来代劳。”他把剪刀递到阿德尔面前。
Adel blinked. “Me?”
阿德尔眯起眼睛。“我？”
More applause broke out. Several people shouted, “God bless you, Commander Sahib!” Baba jan raised a fist, grinning broadly. Adel’s eyes nearly watered with pride.
群众爆发出更热烈的掌声。有几个人喊了起来：“真主保佑你，指挥官！”巴巴江举起一只拳头，咧开大嘴笑着。因为骄傲，阿德尔差一点掉下眼泪。
Baba jan then stood at the doorway as the students made a queue and entered the classroom one by one. They were young girls, aged between eight and fifteen, all of them wearing white scarves and the pin-striped uniforms of black and gray that Baba jan had given them. Adel watched as each student shyly introduced herself to Baba jan on her way in. Baba jan smiled warmly, patted their heads, and offered an encouraging word or two. “I wish you success, Bibi Mariam. Study hard, Bibi Homaira. Make us proud, Bibi Ilham.”
巴巴江此后站到门口，学生们排好队，一个接一个地走进教室。她们都是小姑娘，年龄在八到十五岁之间，包着白头巾，穿黑灰相间的条纹校服，这是巴巴江送给她们的。阿德尔看到，每个学生进来的时候，都会腼腆地向巴巴江报上自己的名字。巴巴江亲切地微笑着，轻轻拍拍她们的头，说上一两句鼓励的话。“祝你成功，玛丽亚姆小姐。好好学习，霍梅拉小姐。给我们长脸，伊尔哈姆小姐。”
I have nowhere else to turn, Commander Sahib…
我实在没办法了，司令官…
Adel had never heard anyone outside immediate family address Baba jan by anything other than “Commander Sahib,” even though the Russians were long gone now and Baba jan hadn’t fired a gun in a decade or more. Back at the house, there were framed pictures of Baba jan’s jihadi days all around the living room. Adel had committed to memory each of the pictures: his father leaning against the fender of a dusty old jeep, squatting on the turret of a charred tank, posing proudly with his men, ammunition belt strapped across his chest, beside a helicopter they had shot down. Here was one where he was wearing a vest and a bandolier, brow pressed to the desert floor in prayer. He was much skinnier in those days, Adel’s father, and always in these pictures there was nothing behind him but mountains and sand.
阿德尔从来没听到过直系亲属以外的任何人，用任何不是“司令官”的字眼称呼过巴巴江，哪怕现在俄国人已经走了很长时间，哪怕巴巴江已经有十年，甚至更长的年头，一枪都没开过。在家里，客厅的墙上挂满了巴巴江参加“圣战”时期的照片，每一张阿德尔都牢记在心：一辆满是灰尘的老吉普，父亲倚靠着挡泥板；一辆烧焦的坦克，他蹲在炮塔上；他们击落的一架直升机，旁边是他和手下人摆着姿势，意气风发，子弹链横捆在他胸前。还有一张是他穿着马甲，背着子弹袋，跪在沙漠里，脑门触地，正在做礼拜。阿德尔的父亲那时比现在要瘦得多，而且在这些照片上，他身后总是荒凉一片，只有沙漠和群山。
Later, by the black Land Cruiser, Adel stood by his father, sweating now in the heat, and watched him shake hands with the locals. Baba jan fingered a prayer bead in his free hand and listened patiently, leaning in a bit, his brow furrowed, nodding, attentive to each person as he or she came to say thanks, offer prayers, pay respects, many of them taking the opportunity to ask for a favor. A mother whose sick child needed to see a surgeon in Kabul, a man in need of a loan to start a shoe-repair shop, a mechanic asking for a new set of tools.
后来在那辆黑色的丰田陆地巡洋舰边上，阿德尔站在父亲身旁，热得直冒汗，看着他和当地人握手。巴巴江用空出来的那只手捻着念珠，身体微微前倾，皱着眉，点着头，对每个人都很专注，耐心地听着男男女女向他道谢，祝福，表达尊敬，很多人借这个机会求他帮忙。有位母亲，孩子病了，需要去喀布尔看医生；有个男人想借钱，开个修鞋铺；还有个机修工想要一套新工具。
Commander Sahib, if you could find it in your heart…
司令官，请您行行好…
Looking at the pictures, Adel wished he had been around to fight jihad alongside his father in those more adventurous days. He liked to picture himself and Baba jan shooting at Russian helicopters together, blowing up tanks, dodging gunfire, living in mountains and sleeping in caves. Father and son, war heroes.
看照片的时候，阿德尔真希望自己也打过圣战，在那些比现在还要危险的日子里，和父亲并肩战斗。他喜欢想像自己和巴巴江一起，朝俄国人的直升机射击，炸掉坦克，躲避炮火，住在山上，睡在洞里。父子英雄，战地佳话。
Baba jan had been shot twice by the Russians during battle. He had shown Adel his wounds, one just under the left rib cage — he said that one had cost him his spleen — and one about a thumb’s length away from his belly button. He said he was lucky, everything considered. He had friends who had lost arms, legs, eyes; friends whose faces had burned. They had done it for their country, Baba jan said, and they had done it for God. This was what jihad was all about, he said. Sacrifice. You sacrificed your limbs, your sight — your life, even — and you did it gladly. Jihad also earned you certain rights and privileges, he said, because God sees to it that those who sacrifice the most justly reap the rewards as well.
打仗的时候，巴巴江两次吃了俄国人的子弹。他给阿德尔看过伤疤，一处位于胸腔的左下方，他说这一枪打烂了脾脏，另一处离肚脐眼只有一个大拇指的距离。他说不管怎么看，自己都很走运。有的战友失去了胳膊，腿，眼睛，还有战友烧伤了脸。他们这样做是为自己的国家，巴巴江说，他们这样做也是为了真主。他说，这就是圣战的意义。牺牲。你牺牲掉你的手脚，你的视力，甚至你的生命，可你牺牲也欢喜。他说，圣战也可以给你带来某些权利，让你获得特权，因为真主一定会让那些做出牺牲的人得到最公正的回报。
Both in this life and the next, Baba jan said, pointing his thick finger first down, then up.
此生如此，来生也一样。巴巴江说着，伸出粗粗的指头，先朝下，再朝上。
There was also a large framed photo of Baba jan smiling alongside President Karzai at Arg, the Presidential Palace in Kabul. This one was more recent, taken in the course of a small ceremony during which Baba jan had been handed an award for his humanitarian work in Shadbagh-e-Nau. It was an award that Baba jan had more than earned. The new school for girls was merely his latest project. Adel knew that women in town used to die regularly giving birth. But they didn’t anymore because his father had opened a large clinic, run by two doctors and three midwives whose salaries he paid for out of his own pocket. All the townspeople received free care at the clinic; no child in Shadbagh-e-Nau went unimmunized. Baba jan had dispatched teams to locate water points all over town and dig wells. It was Baba jan who had helped finally bring full-time electricity to Shadbagh-e-Nau. At least a dozen businesses had opened thanks to his loans that, Adel had learned from Kabir, were rarely, if ever, paid back.
还有一张装裱过的大照片，巴巴江微笑着，和卡尔扎伊总统肩并着肩，拍摄地点是阿尔格堡，喀布尔的总统府。这张照片是最近在一个小型颁奖仪式上拍的，巴巴江因为在沙德巴盖瑙的人道主义工作获得了表彰，他完全配得上这个奖。新女校只是他最近一个项目。阿德尔知道，过去镇上经常有女人在生孩子的时候死掉。但在现在不会了，因为他父亲开了一家很大的诊所，有两个医生和三个助产士，他们的薪水由父亲自掏腰包。在诊所里，镇上所有人都可以得到免费治疗；沙德巴盖瑙的所有孩子都接种了疫苗。巴巴江派了工程队，确定了全镇的取水点，打了井。也是在巴巴江的帮助下，沙德巴盖瑙接通了全天候的电力。至少有十几家生意是靠他的借款做起来的，阿德尔从卡比尔那儿了解到，这些钱如果不是全部有去无回的话，也绝大多数都没有归还。
Adel had meant what he had said to the teacher earlier. He knew he was lucky to be the son of such a man.
此前和老师讲话时，阿德尔所言不虚。他知道，身为这样一个人的儿子，他确实是幸运的。
Inside, as his tinted window rolled up, Adel watched Kabir say something to the old man that Adel couldn’t hear. Then Kabir made his way around the front of the SUV and let himself into the driver’s seat, laying his Kalashnikov on the passenger seat before turning the ignition.
阿德尔坐在车里，茶色玻璃窗升上来的时候，他看见卡比尔对老汉说了句什么。阿德尔听不见。随后，卡比尔从SUV前面绕过来，坐进司机位置，将冲锋枪放到副座上，发动了汽车。
Baba jan took Adel by the arm and gently guided him into the backseat of the Land Cruiser. “Let’s go, son. Your mother is waiting for you.” He climbed in beside Adel and shut the door.
巴巴江伸出胳膊，搂过阿德尔，温柔地把他扶上陆地巡洋舰的后座。“咱们走，孩子。你妈等你呢。”他也爬进车里，坐到阿德尔身边，关上了门。
“I just want to have a brief word with the commander,” the old man said.
“我就跟司令官说几句话。”老汉说。
Just as the rounds of handshaking were coming to an end, Adel spotted a slight man approaching his father. He wore round, thin-framed spectacles and a short gray beard and had little teeth like the heads of burnt matches. Trailing him was a boy roughly Adel’s own age. The boy’s big toes poked through matching holes in his sneakers. His hair sat on his head as a matted, unmoving mess. His jeans were stiff with dirt, and they were too short besides. By contrast, his T-shirt hung almost to his knees.
就在一轮又一轮的握手即将结束的时候，阿德尔发现有个瘦小的男人正在向他父亲靠近。他戴着一副圆圆的窄框眼镜，留着短短的花白胡子，牙也小小的，像烧过的火柴头。他身后跟着个男孩，岁数和阿德尔差不多，穿着一双破了洞的运动鞋，两个大脚趾头顶在外面。头发趴在他脑门上，像一丛茂密的、纹丝不动的乱草。他的牛仔裤上沾满了泥土，而且太短了，短袖衫却正好相反，几乎耷拉到了膝盖。
Kabir planted himself between the old man and Baba jan. “I told you already this wasn’t a good time,” he said.
卡比尔挡在老头和巴巴江中间。“我已经告诉过你了，这会儿不行。”他说。
“What was that about?” Adel asked.
“什么事？”阿德尔问。
“Nothing important,” Kabir said.
“没什么要紧的。”卡比尔说。
They turned onto the road. Some of the boys who had stood in the crowd gave chase for a short while before the Land Cruiser pulled away. Kabir drove through the main crowded strip that bisected the town of Shadbagh-e-Nau, honking frequently as he needled the car through traffic. Everyone yielded. Some people waved. Adel watched the crowded sidewalks on either side of him, his gaze settling on and then off familiar sights — the carcasses hanging from hooks in butcher shops; the blacksmiths working their wooden wheels, hand-pumping their bellows; the fruit merchants fanning flies off their grapes and cherries; the sidewalk barber on the wicker chair stropping his razor. They passed tea shops, kabob houses, an auto-repair shop, a mosque, before Kabir veered the car through the town’s big public square, at the center of which stood a blue fountain and a nine-foot-tall black stone mujahid, looking east, turban gracefully wrapped atop his head, an RPG launcher on his shoulder. Baba jan had personally commissioned a sculptor from Kabul to build the statue.
他们拐到路上。有些孩子从人群里跑出来，追了一会儿，直到陆地巡洋舰加速开走。卡比尔开着车，穿过沙德巴盖瑙拥挤的主干道，它将小镇一分为二。碰到有人挡路，他得时不时按响喇叭。人人都会避让。有些还挥手致意。阿德尔望向两边拥挤的人行道，一幅幅熟悉的画面让他的目光断断续续地停留：死畜挂在肉铺的钩子上；铁匠摇着木轮，用手摇泵的风箱鼓风；水果贩子守着葡萄和樱桃，拿扇子轰苍蝇；还有街头理发师，正用挂在藤椅上的皮带磨着剃刀。他们经过了好几家茶叶行，烤肉馆，一个汽车修理厂，一座清真寺。卡比尔把车拐进了镇上的公共大广场。广场中央有座蓝色的喷泉，一尊高过两米七的黑色石雕像，这是个圣战游击队员，面朝东方，脑袋包着头巾，肩扛火箭筒。巴巴江亲自从喀布尔找了位雕塑家，建起了这尊雕像。
From there, the main road ran north for two miles before it connected with Shadbagh-e-Kohna, Old Shadbagh. Adel had never seen the village as it had once looked decades ago. By the time Baba jan had moved him and his mother from Kabul to Shadbagh, the village had all but vanished. All the homes were gone. The only surviving relic of the past was a decaying windmill. At Shadbagh-e-Kohna, Kabir veered left from the main road onto a wide, quarter-mile-long unpaved track that connected the main road to the thick twelve-foot-high walls of the compound where Adel lived with his parents — the only standing structure now in Shadbagh-e-Kohna, discounting the windmill. Adel could see the white walls now as the SUV jostled and bounced on the track. Coils of barbed wire ran along the top of the walls.
由此出发，沿公路北行，三公里开外，便是沙德巴盖库赫纳，旧沙德巴格。阿德尔从未见过老村几十年前的面貌。巴巴江让他和他母亲从喀布尔搬到沙德巴格时，村庄几乎已经完全毁弃。所有人家都没了。往日的遗迹只剩下一座风蚀的磨坊。到了沙德巴盖库赫纳，卡比尔左转，下了公路，拐上一条没有铺过的宽阔岔道，它大约四百米长，从公路通往阿德尔和父母住的大院，院外建有厚厚的围墙，高达三米七。如果不算老磨坊，那么这就是现在沙德巴盖库赫纳惟一没有倒掉的建筑了。此时，SUV在小路上跋涉着，颠簸着，阿德尔可以看到白色的围墙，墙头拉着一圈圈的铁丝网。
North of the strip were a few blocks of residential area, mostly composed of narrow, unpaved streets and small, flat-roofed little houses painted white or yellow or blue. Satellite dishes sat on the roofs of a few; Afghan flags draped a number of windows. Baba jan had told Adel that most of the homes and businesses in Shadbagh-e-Nau had been built in the last fifteen years or so. He’d had a hand in the construction of many of them. Most people who lived here considered him the founder of Shadbagh-e-Nau, and Adel knew that the town elders had offered to name the town after Baba jan but he had declined the honor.
公路北面有几片住宅区，大部分都只有狭窄的街道，路面未曾铺过，平顶小屋刷成了或白，或黄，或蓝的颜色。有几户人家的房顶上立着卫星天线，许多窗口松松垮垮地挂出了阿富汗国旗。巴巴江告诉过阿德尔，沙德巴盖瑙的大部分房屋和商户，都是最近十五年里盖起来的。他对许多建筑伸出过援手。这里的大多数居民都把他看成沙德巴盖瑙的建立者。阿德尔还知道，镇里的长者们曾经提议，用巴巴江的名字为本镇命名，但他拒绝了这份荣誉。
A uniformed guard, who always stood watch at the main gates to the compound, saluted and opened the gates. Kabir drove the SUV through the walls and up a graveled path toward the house.
一个穿制服的卫兵敬了礼，开了大门，他总是站在这儿，守卫着院门。卡比尔把SUV开进院内，沿着碎石路，开向家里的大宅。
The house stood three stories high and was painted bright pink and turquoise green. It had soaring columns and pointed eaves and mirrored skyscraper glass that sparkled in the sun. It had parapets, a veranda with sparkly mosaics, and wide balconies with curved wrought-iron railings. Inside, they had nine bedrooms and seven bathrooms, and sometimes when Adel and Baba jan played hide-and-seek, Adel wandered around for an hour or more before he found his father. All the counters in the bathrooms and kitchen had been made of granite and lime marble. Lately, to Adel’s delight, Baba jan had been talking about building a swimming pool in the basement.
房子三层高，刷成了亮粉和松石绿。它有高大的柱子，突出的房檐，还有玻璃外墙，在阳光下闪闪发光。屋外建有胸墙，游廊镶嵌着亮闪闪的马赛克，阳台宽大，配有熟铁制成的弯花护栏。房子里有九间卧室，七个洗手间，阿德尔和巴巴江玩捉迷藏的时候，他有时要转悠一个小时，甚至更长时间，才能把父亲捉到。洗手间和厨房里的所有台子，都是花岗岩和大理石做的。近来很让阿德尔开心的是，巴巴江一直在说要在地窖里修个游泳池。
Kabir pulled into the circular driveway outside the tall front gates of the house. He killed the engine.
卡比尔驶入正门外的环形车道。他关掉了引擎。
Kabir nodded and exited the car. Adel watched him walk up the marble steps to the gates and ring. It was Azmaray, the other bodyguard — a short, stocky, gruff fellow — who opened the gate. The two men said a few words, then lingered on the steps, lighting a cigarette each.
卡比尔点点头，下了车。阿德尔看着他走上门口的大理石台阶，按了门铃。另一个保镖阿兹马赖开了门。他是个矮小、粗壮、脾气暴躁的家伙。两人说了几句话，便站在台阶上，一人点了支烟。
“Why don’t you give us a minute?” Baba jan said.
“等我们一下。”巴巴江说。
“I just wish you didn’t have to leave all the time.”
“我只希望你别老出门。”
Adel nodded. “I was proud today. I was proud of you.”
阿德尔点点头。“我今天很自豪。是你让我自豪。”
“Do you really have to go?” Adel said. His father was leaving for the south in the morning to oversee his fields of cotton in Helmand and to meet with workers at the cotton factory he had built there. He would be gone for two weeks, a span of time that, to Adel, seemed interminable.
“你非走不可吗？”阿德尔问。父亲第二天一早就要去南方，视察他在赫尔曼德的棉田，还要去他在那儿开的棉花加工厂，见一见工作人员。他要去两个礼拜，时间这么久，对阿德尔来说似乎无比漫长。
Baba jan lowered the weight of his big hand on Adel’s knee. “Thank you, Adel. I appreciate that. But I take you to these things so you learn, so you understand that it’s important for the fortunate, for people like us, to live up to their responsibilities.”
巴巴江把大手放到阿德尔腿上。“谢谢你，阿德尔。非常感谢。不过我带你参加这些活动，是为了让你学习，让你理解，对幸运者，对我们这样的人来说，重要的是负起自己的责任。”
“Me too, son. Me too. But I’m not leaving until tomorrow. I’ll be home later in the evening.”
“我也希望啊，儿子。我也希望。可我明天才走嘛。今天晚上我还是在家的。”
Adel nodded, casting his gaze down at his hands.
阿德尔点了下头，垂下眼睛，看着自己的手。
“Look,” his father said in a soft voice, “the people in this town, they need me, Adel. They need my help to have a home and find work and make a livelihood. Kabul has its own problems. It can’t help them. So if I don’t, no one else will. Then these people would suffer.”
“你看，”父亲用温柔的声音说道，“镇上这些老百姓，他们需要我，阿德尔。他们需要我帮助盖房子，找工作，养家糊口。政府有自己的问题，帮不了他们。所以呢，如果我不出手，就没人能帮他们了。那么百姓就会受苦。”
Baba jan turned his gaze to him. He dwarfed Adel, taking up more than half the backseat. “Wish I didn’t, son.”
巴巴江扭过脸，看着他。他占去了多半个后座，阿德尔在他面前如同侏儒。“我也不想去，儿子。”
“Do you understand me?”
“你听懂了吗？”
“Yes, Baba jan.”
“听懂了，巴巴江。”
“No one on this earth matters to me more than you, Adel. You are my son. I would gladly give up all of this for you. I would give up my life for you, son.”
“这世界上没有一个人比你对我更重要，阿德尔。你是我儿子。我乐意为你放弃这一切。我可以为你放弃生命，儿子。”
Adel threw his arms around Baba jan’s neck and his father held him tightly and patiently. Adel remembered when he was little, when he would tap his father on the shoulder in the middle of the night still shaking from a nightmare, and his father would push back his blanket and let him climb into bed, folding him in and kissing the crown of his head until Adel stopped shivering and slipped back into sleep.
阿德尔伸出双臂，环住巴巴江的脖子，父亲紧紧地，久久地抱着他。阿德尔记得自己小时候，每当他在午夜做过了噩梦，哆哆嗦嗦地去拍父亲肩膀的时候，父亲都会掀开毯子，让他钻进被窝，搂住他，亲着他脑瓜顶，直到阿德尔不再发抖，重回梦乡。
Baba jan squeezed his knee gently. “You miss Kabul, I know, and your friends. It’s been a hard adjustment here, for both you and your mother. And I know that I’m always off traveling and going to meetings and that a lot of people have demands on my time. But… Look at me, son.”
巴巴江轻轻摸弄着他的膝盖。“你想念喀布尔，我知道，你也想朋友。适应这儿很难，你和你妈都不容易。我也知道我老是出差，老得去开会，许多人占去了我的时间。可是…看着我，儿子。”
Adel nodded, his eyes watering a little. Sometimes, when Baba jan spoke like this, Adel felt his heart swell and swell until he found it hard to draw a breath.
阿德尔点点头，眼睛有些湿了。巴巴江说这种话的时候，阿德尔有时会感到自己的心脏在不断膨胀，憋得他喘不过气来。
“Do you believe me?”
“你相信我吗？”
Adel raised his eyes to meet Baba jan’s. They shone at him kindly from beneath the canopy of his bushy brows.
阿德尔抬起头，看着巴巴江。父亲的双眼在两道天篷一样的浓眉下，慈祥地注视着他。
“I do.”
“我相信。”
“Good. Then give your father a kiss.”
“好。那就亲一亲你父亲。”
“I know that,” Adel muttered.
“我知道的。”阿德尔小声说。
“That’s not what I heard.”
“我听说不是这样。”
Kabir shrugged.
卡比尔耸了耸肩。
“How long will he be gone?”
“他要去多久？”
“You don’t have to,” Adel said, his voice muffled. He already had more toys than he knew what to do with. And there wasn’t a toy on earth that could make up for his father’s absence.
“不必了。”阿德尔说，声音含含糊糊的。他的玩具已经太多了，根本玩不过来。世界上没有一件玩具，能填补父亲不在时的空白。
“I’ll wait for him.”
“那我等他。”
Kabir said, “Business. In the south.”
卡比尔说：“公事。南边。”
“Now you’re testing my patience, old man,” Kabir said, uncrossing his arms.
“你在考验我的耐心，老头。”卡比尔说着，放下了双臂。
The old man said, “Where has he gone to?”
老头问：“他去哪儿了？”
“Two, maybe three months. Who’s to say.”
“两三个月吧。谁知道呢。”
“I heard he was leaving tomorrow.”
“我听说他明天才走。”
“Maybe I’ll bring you a little something from Helmand,” Baba jan said.
“我从赫尔曼德给你带点什么吧。”巴巴江说。
Late that day, Adel perched midstairway and spied on the scene unfolding below him. The doorbell had rung and Kabir had answered. Now Kabir was leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, blocking the entrance, as he spoke to the person on the other side. It was the old man from earlier at the school, Adel saw, the bespectacled man with the burnt-match teeth. The boy with the holes in his shoes was there too, standing beside him.
当天晚些时候，阿德尔躲到楼梯拐角，偷看楼下发生的一幕。刚才门铃响过之后，卡比尔去开了门。现在他靠着门框，双臂抱在胸前，挡住门口，和门外的人讲话。阿德尔看到，是早前学校里那个老汉，满口黑黑的火柴牙、戴着眼镜。鞋上有洞的男孩也在，就站在他旁边。
“Something like that.”
“差不多吧。”
Adel pulled the curtain in the family room and out the window watched the old man and the boy walking up the unpaved road that connected the compound to the main road.
阿德尔撩开家庭娱乐室的窗帘，透过窗户，他看见老汉和男孩上了大院通往公路的土道。
Kabir shut the door.
卡比尔关上了大门。
The old man nodded and backed away, the boy following him.
老汉点点头，退下了，男孩跟着他。
“What does he want anyway, a job?”
“他到底想要什么？找工作？”
“You lied to him,” Adel said.
“你对他撒了谎。”阿德尔说。
“It’s part of what I’m paid to do: protect your father from buzzards.”
“我挣的就是这份钱：保护你父亲，不让那些秃鹰靠近他。”
Kabir moved to the couch and removed his shoes. He looked up at Adel and gave him a wink. Adel liked Kabir, far more than Azmaray, who was unpleasant and rarely said a word to him. Kabir played cards with Adel and invited him to watch DVDs together. Kabir loved movies. He owned a collection that he had bought on the black market and watched ten to twelve movies a week — Iranian, French, American, of course Bollywood — he didn’t care. And sometimes if Adel’s mother was in another room and Adel promised not to tell his father, Kabir emptied the magazine on his Kalashnikov and let Adel hold it, like a mujahid. Now the Kalashnikov sat propped against the wall by the front door.
卡比尔走到沙发边上，脱掉鞋，抬头看了看阿德尔，冲他挤了下眼。比起阿兹马赖，阿德尔更喜欢卡比尔。阿兹马赖蛮讨厌，难得跟阿德尔说一句话。卡比尔和阿德尔打扑克，拉着他一起看DVD。卡比尔喜欢看电影。他攒了一堆从黑市上买的片子，每个礼拜都要看十一二部，伊朗的，法国的，美国的，当然还有宝莱坞的，甭管哪儿的，他统统不在乎。有时候，要是阿德尔的母亲不在屋里，而且阿德尔保证不告诉父亲，卡比尔就会把卡拉什尼科夫的弹夹倒空，让阿德尔端起枪，扮一扮圣战游击队员。眼下，卡拉什尼科夫就靠着墙，立在门边。
“Not here, you won’t.”
“在这儿不行。”
Kabir shifted impatiently on his feet. “Suit yourself,” he said. “But the commander is a busy man. No telling when he’ll be back.”
卡比尔不耐烦地把重心换到另一只脚上。“那随你便。”他说，“不过司令官很忙。不晓得他什么时候能回。”
“Over by the road, I meant.”
“我的意思是到路上等。”
“They all look harmless.”
“他们全都不像坏人。”
“They looked harmless enough,” Adel said, releasing the curtain and turning to Kabir. He could see the bodyguard’s forehead over the top of the newspaper.
“他们看上去不像坏人。”阿德尔说，放下窗帘，转向卡比尔。他能看到报纸下面保镖的脑门。
Kabir lay down on the couch and propped his feet up on the arm. He started flipping through a newspaper.
卡比尔在沙发上躺下，两只脚搭到扶手上，开始翻看报纸。
“Don’t make fun.”
“别开玩笑。”
“Is Baba jan going to help them?”
“巴巴江会帮他们吗？”
“Maybe I should have asked them in for tea, then,” Kabir murmured. “Offer them some cake too.”
“这么说，我应该请他们进来喝杯茶。”卡比尔小声嘀咕着，“再给他们来点蛋糕。”
“Lawrence,” Kabir called from the couch. “Lawrence of Arabia. Anthony Quinn.” And then, just as Adel had reached the top of the stairs: “They’re buzzards, Adel. Don’t fall for their act. They’d pick your father clean if they could.”
“《劳伦斯》。”卡比尔在沙发上叫道，“《阿拉伯的劳伦斯》。安东尼·奎因。”[1]阿德尔走到楼梯顶上的时候，卡比尔又接着说：“他们是秃鹰，阿德尔。别上他们的当，那都是装出来的。一有机会，他们会把你父亲啄得一根毛都不剩。” 【注：[1]演员安东尼·奎因（Anthony Quinn）在电影《阿拉伯的劳伦斯》中饰演一位深得部族信任的首领。】
Adel shrugged. He started heading upstairs.
阿德尔耸耸肩，往楼上走。
“Probably,” Kabir sighed. “Your father is a river to his people.” He lowered the paper and grinned. “What’s that from? Come on, Adel. We saw it last month.”
“也许吧。”卡比尔叹了口气，“你父亲就像人民的河。”他放低报纸，龇牙一笑。“这句话哪儿来的？告诉我，阿德尔。咱们上个月看过的。”
One morning, a couple of days after his father had left for Helmand, Adel went up to his parents’ bedroom. The music from the other side of the door was loud and thumping. He let himself in and found his mother, in shorts and a T-shirt in front of the giant flat-screen TV, mimicking the moves of a trio of sweaty blond women, a series of leaps and squats and lunges and planks. She spotted him in the big mirror of her dresser.
一天早晨，就在父亲离家去了赫尔曼德两三天后，阿德尔来到了父母的卧室。隔着门，音乐还是很响，很吵。他进了屋，发现母亲只穿背心短裤，在巨大的平板电视前，跟着三个汗津津的金发女人做着一连串的动作，或跳，或蹲，或扑，或伏。她在大妆镜里看见了他。
“Want to join me?” she panted over the loud music.
“想跟我一起做吗？”她气喘吁吁地叫道，声音盖过了喧闹的音乐。
Adel’s mother had delicate hands and feet, a small upturned nose, and a pretty face like an actress from one of Kabir’s Bollywood films. She was lean, agile, and young — she had been only fourteen when she’d married Baba jan. Adel had another, older mother too, and three older half brothers, but Baba jan had put them up in the east, in Jalalabad, and Adel saw them only once a month or so when Baba jan took him there to visit. Unlike his mother and stepmother, who disliked each other, Adel and his half brothers got along fine. When he visited them in Jalalabad, they took him with them to parks, to bazaars, the cinema, and Buzkashi tournaments. They played Resident Evil with him and shot the zombies in Call of Duty with him, and they always picked him on their team during neighborhood soccer matches. Adel wished so badly that they lived here, near him.
阿德尔的母亲叫阿丽娅，生得小手小脚，小鼻子微微上翘，长了一张漂亮的脸蛋，很像卡比尔有的一部宝莱坞电影里的女演员。她没什么肉，灵活，而且年轻——嫁给巴巴江的时候，她才十四岁。阿德尔还有一个年纪更大的母亲，三个同父异母的哥哥，但是巴巴江把他们安置在了东部的贾拉拉巴德，每隔一个来月，等巴巴江带阿德尔去那儿串门的时候，他才能和他们见上一面。亲妈和后妈互相嫌恶，可是跟她们俩不一样，阿德尔和异母哥哥们相处得很好。到贾拉拉巴德看他们时，他们会带上他一起去公园，逛巴扎，看电影，还去看马背叼羊赛。他们和他玩《生化危机》，一起在《使命召唤》里杀僵尸，而且和邻居踢足球时，总是让他和他们自己一队。阿德尔非常希望他们也住在这儿，待在他身边。
“I’ll just sit here,” he said. He slid down to the carpeted floor and watched his mother, whose name was Aria, leapfrog her way across the room and back.
“我就坐这儿好了。”说着，他一屁股出溜到地毯上，看着母亲像青蛙一样，在房间跳过来，跳过去。
The truth was, the boredom here in Shadbagh was crushing Adel. He hadn’t made a single friend in the two years they had lived here. He could not bike into town, certainly not on his own, not with the rash of kidnappings everywhere in the region — though he did sneak out now and then briefly, always staying within the perimeter of the compound. He had no classmates because Baba jan wouldn’t let him attend the local school — for “security reasons,” he said — so a tutor came to the house every morning for lessons. Mostly, Adel passed the time reading or kicking the soccer ball around on his own or watching movies with Kabir, often the same ones over and over. He wandered listlessly around the wide, high-ceilinged hallways of their massive home, through all the big empty rooms, or else he sat looking out the window of his bedroom upstairs. He lived in a mansion, but in a shrunken world. Some days he was so bored, he wanted to chew wood.
说实话，沙德巴格的乏味真让阿德尔受不了。住在这儿都两年了，他连一个朋友也没交到。他不能骑自行车去镇里，肯定不能自己去，这一地区的绑架案正在遍地开花，不过，他偶尔也能溜出去一小会儿，但只在大院周围活动。他没有同学，因为巴巴江不准他进当地的学校，他说这是出于“安全考虑”。于是，每天早上都有一个家庭教师登门，给他上课。大部分情况下，能让阿德尔打发时间的只是读读书，自己和自己踢踢球，要不就和卡比尔一起看电影，翻过来掉过去，常常还是那些玩意儿。他无精打采地在巨大的房子里瞎转，在又宽又高的走廊里徘徊，每个大空屋都晃上一圈，要不然就坐在楼上自己的卧室里，看着窗外。他住的是大宅子，却生活在一个小世界。有些日子实在无聊，他连啃木头的心都有。
Adel watched his mother lie on her back and raise her straightened legs off the floor and lower them down again, a blue plastic ball tucked between her bare ankles.
阿德尔看着母亲躺在地板上，两腿朝上伸直，再放下，她光着脚，夹着一个蓝色的塑料球。
He knew that his mother too was terribly lonely here. She tried to fill her days with routines, exercise in the morning, shower, then breakfast, then reading, gardening, then Indian soaps on TV in the afternoon. When Baba jan was away, which was often, she always wore gray sweats and sneakers around the house, her face unmade, her hair pinned in a bun at the back of her neck. She rarely even opened the jewelry box where she kept all the rings and necklaces and earrings that Baba jan brought her from Dubai. She spent hours sometimes talking to her family down in Kabul. Only when her sister and parents visited for a few days, once every two or three months, did Adel see his mother come alive. She wore a long print dress and high-heeled shoes; she put on her makeup. Her eyes shone, and her laughter could be heard around the house. And it was then that Adel would catch a glimpse of the person that perhaps she had been before.
他知道母亲在这儿也是极为孤独的。她想用按部就班的生活填满自己的日子，早上锻炼，淋浴，然后吃早点，然后读书，种花，到了下午，就看电视上的印度肥皂剧。巴巴江出门时——他经常出门——她总是穿着灰色的运动服、运动鞋，在房子里晃来晃去。她不化妆，头发拢到脑后，扎成发髻。她很少打开首饰盒，里面装着各种各样的戒指、项链、耳环，都是巴巴江从迪拜给她买回来的。有时她和喀布尔的家人聊天，一聊就是好几个钟头。每隔两三个月，她姐姐和父母会过来待上几天，只有这个时候，阿德尔才能看到母亲有了生气。她穿上印花的长裙和高跟鞋，抹上粉，化上妆，两眼放光，整幢房子里都能听到她的笑声。到那时，阿德尔才能瞧上一眼，隐约看出他母亲从前是个怎样的人。
When Baba jan was away, Adel and his mother tried to be each other’s reprieve. They pushed pieces of jigsaw puzzles around and played golf and tennis on Adel’s Wii. But Adel’s favorite pastime with his mother was building toothpick houses. His mother would draw a 3-D blueprint of the house on a sheet of paper, complete with front porch, gabled roof, and with staircases inside and walls separating the different rooms. They would build the foundation first, then the interior walls and stairs, killing hours carefully applying glue to toothpicks, setting sections to dry. Adel’s mother said that when she was younger, before she had married Adel’s father, she had dreamed of becoming an architect.
巴巴江不在的时候，阿德尔和母亲便互相解闷。他们玩拼图，用阿德尔的Wii打高尔夫和网球。但是和母亲在一起时，阿德尔最喜欢的消遣是用牙签盖房子。母亲在纸上画出立体的建筑图，有前门廊，人字形的屋顶，房子里有楼梯，各屋之间还有隔墙。他们先做地基，接着是内墙和楼梯，细心地用胶水把牙签粘好，消磨掉好几个小时，再让各部分晾干。阿德尔的母亲说，她年少的时候，没嫁给阿德尔的父亲之前，曾经梦想着做建筑师。
He was actually supposed to marry my older sister, she said.
其实他想娶的是我姐。她说。
Aunt Nargis?
娜尔吉丝阿姨？
It was while they were building a skyscraper once that she had told Adel the story of how she and Baba jan had married.
有一次他俩盖摩天大楼的时候，她跟阿德尔讲了自己怎样和巴巴江结婚的故事。
Yes. This was in Kabul. He saw her on the street one day and that was it. He had to marry her. He showed up at our house the next day, him and five of his men. They more or less invited themselves in. They were all wearing boots. She shook her head and laughed like it was a funny thing Baba jan had done, but she didn’t laugh the way she ordinarily did when she found something funny. You should have seen the expression on your grandparents.
是啊。那是在喀布尔。有天他在街上看见了她，就是这么回事。他非要娶她。第二天他来了我们家，他，还有他五个手下。他们差不多是硬闯进来的。谁也没脱靴子。她摇了摇头，哈哈笑着，好像巴巴江干了件好笑的事，可她笑起来，又不是她平时觉得什么事好笑时的样子。你真该看看你外婆和外公脸上的表情。
And then I come in, carrying a platter of tea and sweets. I fill their cups and put the food on the table, and your father sees me, and, as I turn to go, your father, he says, “Maybe you’re right, sir. It’s not fair to break off an engagement. But if you tell me this one is taken too, then I’m afraid I may have no choice but to think you don’t care for me.” Then he laughs. And that was how we got married.
就在这时，我进来了，端着个大盘子，里面放着茶和甜点。我给他们倒了茶，把食物放到桌上，你父亲瞅见我了，然后，我正要走的时候，你父亲他开了口：“也许您说得对，先生。解除婚约是不公平的。但是，如果您告诉我这一位也已经许出去了，那我恐怕就没有选择了，只能认为您看不上我。”说完，他放声大笑。我们就这样结了婚。
They had sat in the living room, Baba jan, his men, and her parents. She was in the kitchen making tea while they talked. There was a problem, she said, because her sister Nargis was already engaged, promised to a cousin who lived in Amsterdam and was studying engineering. How were they supposed to break off the engagement? her parents were asking.
他们在客厅落座。巴巴江，巴巴江的手下，还有她的父母。他们谈话的时候，她在厨房沏茶。有个麻烦事，她说，因为她姐姐娜尔吉丝已经订了婚，许给了一个表哥，他住在阿姆斯特丹，正在读工程学。他们怎么可能解除婚约？她父母问道。
You don’t regret marrying him.
你不后悔嫁给他。
She shrugged a little. Truth be told, I was more frightened than anything else.
她微微耸了下肩。要说实话，我最大的感觉就是害怕。
But you like him now, right? You love him.
可你现在喜欢他，对吗？你爱他。
She put down the glue and waited a few seconds before answering. Look at our lives, Adel, she said slowly. Look around you. What’s to regret? She smiled and pulled gently on the lobe of his ear. Besides, then I wouldn’t have had you.
她放下胶水，停了几秒钟才回答。看看咱们的生活，阿德尔。她慢慢地说道，看看你身边。有什么可后悔的？她笑了一下，轻轻扯了扯他的耳垂。再说了，那我不就没你了吗。
She lifted a tube of glue.
她拿起一管胶水。
Of course I do, Adel’s mother said. What a question.
当然了。阿德尔的母亲说，这还用问。
Did you like him?
那会儿你喜欢他吗？
Adel’s mother turned off the TV now and sat on the floor, panting, drying sweat off her neck with a towel.
现在，阿德尔的母亲关掉了电视，坐到地板上，喘着粗气，用毛巾擦着脖子上的汗。
Adel sighed and rose to his feet.
阿德尔叹了口气，站起身。
“Why don’t you do something on your own this morning,” she said, stretching her back. “I’m going to shower and eat. And I was thinking of calling your grandparents. Haven’t spoken to them for a couple of days.”
“大早上的，你干吗不自己找点事做。”她一边说着，一边活动着肩膀。“我要去冲个凉，再吃点东西。刚才还想给你外婆外公打电话来着。好几天没和他们说话了。”
In his room, on a lower floor and in a different wing of the house, he fetched his soccer ball and put on the Zidane jersey Baba jan had given him for his last birthday, his twelfth. When he made his way downstairs, he found Kabir napping, a newspaper spread on his chest like a quilt. He grabbed a can of apple juice from the fridge and let himself out.
他的房间位于这房子另一头的二楼。回到屋内，他拿了足球，穿上齐达内的球衣，这是上一个生日，他十二岁时，巴巴江送给他的。下楼的时候，他发现卡比尔在打盹，报纸铺开着，像被子一样盖在胸口。他从冰箱里抓了一听苹果汁，溜出了门。
Adel walked on the gravel path toward the main entrance to the compound. The stall where the armed guard stood watch was empty. Adel knew the timing of the guard’s rounds. He carefully opened the gate and stepped out, closed the gate behind him. Almost immediately, he had the impression that he could breathe better on this side of the wall. Some days, the compound felt far too much like a prison.
阿德尔上了通往大院门口的石子路。武装警卫站岗的亭子空着。阿德尔知道，现在正是卫兵换岗的时间。他小心翼翼地打开大门，走到外面，又把门在身后关好。一下子，他就感到呼吸比在墙里顺畅多了。有些日子，大院的感觉实在太像监狱了。
He walked in the wide shadow of the wall toward the back of the compound, away from the main road. Back there, behind the compound, were Baba jan’s orchards, of which he was very proud. Several acres of long parallel rows of pear trees and apple trees, apricots, cherries, figs, and loquats too. When Adel took long walks with his father in these orchards, Baba jan would lift him high up on his shoulders and Adel would pluck them a ripe pair of apples. Between the compound and the orchards was a clearing, mostly empty save for a shed where the gardeners stored their tools. The only other thing there was the flat stump of what had once been, by the looks of it, a giant old tree. Baba jan had once counted its rings with Adel and concluded that the tree had likely seen Genghis Khan’s army march past. He said, with a rueful shake of his head, that whoever had cut it down had been nothing but a fool.
他顺着院墙宽宽的阴影，往大院后面走去，离公路越来越远。在那儿，在大院后面，是巴巴江特别引以为荣的果园，占地有一二十亩，树木成行，并排而立，一眼望不到头，种的有梨树、苹果树、杏树、樱桃树、无花果树，还有枇杷树。阿德尔和父亲在果园里长时间散步的时候，巴巴江会把他扛到肩膀上，让阿德尔摘两只熟透的苹果，一人一个。大院和果园之间是一块空地，除了一个园丁们收纳工具的棚子，大部分地面都空着。此外就只有一个平平的树墩子，从外表上看，它以前是棵大橡树。巴巴江曾经和阿德尔一起数过它的年轮，最后认为，这棵树很有可能见过成吉思汗的大军由此经过。他悲哀地摇着头说，不管是谁把它砍倒的，都必定是个傻瓜。
“Getting some shade,” the boy said. “Don’t report me.”
“乘凉呗。”男孩说，“别告我状。”
It was a hot day, the sun glaring in a sky as unblemished blue as the skies in the crayon pictures Adel used to draw when he was little. He put down the can of apple juice on the tree stump and practiced juggling his ball. His personal best was sixty-eight touches without the ball hitting the ground. He had set that record in the spring, and now it was midsummer and he was still trying to best it. Adel had reached twenty-eight when he became aware that someone was watching him. It was the boy, the one with the old man who had tried to approach Baba jan at the school’s opening ceremony. He was squatting now in the shade of the brick shed.
这是个大热天，烈日灼人，天空碧蓝如洗，蓝得就像阿德尔小时候用蜡笔画出来的天。他把苹果汁放到树墩上，开始练习颠球。他最好的成绩是连续触球六十八次，不让球落地。这个纪录是今年春天创造的，现在已是盛夏，他还在努力打破自己的纪录。颠到二十八下，他就发现有人在看他。是那男孩。在学校的开学典礼上，有个老汉想找巴巴江说事，这男孩就跟老汉在一起。此时，他正蹲在砖棚的阴凉里。
“What are you doing here?” Adel said, trying to bark the words like Kabir did when he spoke to strangers.
“你在这儿干什么？”阿德尔问。他想把这句话吼出来，就像卡比尔跟陌生人讲话那样。
“You’re not supposed to be here.”
“你不该来这儿的。”
“Neither are you.”
“你也不该。”
“What?”
“什么？”
The boy chuckled. “Never mind.” He stretched his arms wide and rose to his feet. Adel tried to see if his pockets were full. Maybe he had come to steal fruit. The boy walked over to Adel and flipped up the ball with one foot, gave it a pair of quick juggles, and kicked it with his heel to Adel. Adel caught the ball and cradled it under his arm.
男孩咯咯直乐。“当我没说好了。”他伸开两条胳膊，站起身。阿德尔想看看他衣服口袋鼓不鼓，说不定他是来偷果子的。男孩走到阿德尔身边，伸出一只脚，把球挑起来，飞快地颠了两下，然后用脚后跟把它踢给阿德尔。阿德尔拿起球，抱在自己胳膊底下。
“Where your goon had us wait, over by the road, me and my father? There’s no shade. And not a damn cloud in the sky.”
“你们家打手让我们去哪儿等，路边，我和我爸？那地方没阴凉。天上一丝该死的云彩都没有。”
“Like Maradona.”
“比方说马拉多纳。”
“I’ve seen better.”
“我见过更棒的。”
Adel felt a need to rise to Kabir’s defense. “He is not a goon.”
阿德尔感到有必要维护一下卡比尔的名誉。“他不是打手。”
“Maradona?” Adel said, outraged. He’d had this debate before with one of his half brothers in Jalalabad. “Maradona was a cheater! ‘Hand of God,’ remember?”
“马拉多纳？”阿德尔义愤填膺地说。他以前就跟贾拉拉巴德的一个异母哥哥争论过这事。“马拉多纳是个骗子！‘上帝之手’，记得不？”
“Well, he made sure we got an eyeful of his Kalashnikov, I can tell you that.” He looked at Adel, a lazy, amused grin on his lips. He dropped a wad of spit at his feet. “So I see you’re a fan of the head-butter.”
“哼，我跟你说，他非要我们大饱眼福不可，看他那支卡拉什尼科夫。”他瞅了一眼阿德尔，慢条斯理地咧开嘴，乐不可支地一笑。他往脚底下吐了口痰。“我看得出来，你是头槌鬼的球迷。”
“Yeah? Like who?”
“是吗？比方说谁？”
The boy yawned and started to go. He was about the same height as Adel, maybe a hair taller, and probably just around his age too, Adel thought. But somehow he walked like he was older, without hurry and with a kind of air, as if he had seen everything there was to see and nothing surprised him.
男孩打了个哈欠，迈开步子，准备要走。他和阿德尔差不多一样高，也许只是高出来一根头发，阿德尔想，他俩大概年龄也一样。可是不知道为什么，他走路的样子很老成，不紧不慢的，很有几分气度，好像什么该见的他都见过了，什么事都不会让他大惊小怪。
It took Adel a moment to realize who he was referring to. “You can’t judge him by one mistake,” he said. “He was the best. He was a wizard in the midfield.”
阿德尔想了一下，才明白他说的是谁。“你不能因为他犯过一次错就看扁他。”他说，“他过去是最棒的。他是中场魔术师。”
“Everyone cheats and everyone lies.”
“谁都会骗人，谁都会说谎。”
“I should go. My father’s waiting alone.”
“我该走了。我爸一个人等着呢。”
“How old are you anyway?”
“你到底多大了？”
Gholam gave a shrug. “Thirteen, I guess. Could be fourteen by now.”
吴拉姆肩膀一耸。“十三，我猜的。这工夫也可能十四了。”
“Five each… best of.”
“每人五个…最好。”
“You don’t know your own birthday?”
“你连自己的生日都不知道？”
“You mean like a penalty shoot-out?”
“你是说踢点球决胜负？”
“You thought wrong.”
“你以为错了。”
“My name is Adel.”
“我叫阿德尔。”
“I thought that was your grandfather.”
“我以为那是你爷爷。”
Gholam grinned. “I bet you know yours. I bet you count down.”
吴拉姆龇牙一笑。“我敢说你肯定知道你生日。我敢说你肯定成天掰着手指头，就盼着过生日。”
Gholam spat again, squinted toward the road and back at Adel. Adel noticed that his chin was a bit small for his face and that he had overlapping extra canines in the front, one of them chipped badly and rotting. His left eyebrow was split in half by a short, narrow scar. Also, he smelled. But Adel hadn’t had a conversation — let alone played a game — with a boy his age in nearly two years, discounting the monthly visits to Jalalabad. Adel prepared himself for disappointment, but Gholam shrugged and said, “Shit, why not? But I get first dibs on shooting.”
吴拉姆又吐了口痰，朝公路的方向斜了一眼，这才扭过头，看着阿德尔。阿德尔注意到，他的下巴相对脸来说有点小，虎牙外龇，和别的牙叠在一起，有一颗残缺不全，已经龋烂。他左边那条眉分成了两半，中间是条短而细的疤痕。而且他臭臭的。可是将近两年了，不算每月一次去贾拉拉巴德串门，他从没和同龄的男孩说过话，更不用说玩游戏了。阿德尔做好了败兴的准备，没想到吴拉姆耸了耸肩，说：“狗屁，踢就踢。可是得我先射。”
“Gholam.” They shook hands. Gholam’s grip was strong, his palm dry and callused.
“吴拉姆。”他们握了手。吴拉姆手劲很足，手掌干涩，结着老茧。
“Do you want to play a shoot-out?” Adel asked.
“你想玩点球大战吗？”阿德尔问。
“I do not,” Adel said defensively. “I mean, I don’t count down.”
“我不是的。”阿德尔辩解道，“我是说，我没掰过手指头。”
“Fucker,” Gholam said, bent in half, palms on his kneecaps.
“我操。”吴拉姆两手撑着膝盖，弯着腰说。
Gholam agreed, and the result was even more lopsided. He again managed one goal, and this time Adel converted all five of his attempts.
吴拉姆同意了，结果更是惨不忍睹。他还是只进了一球，而这一次阿德尔五罚五中。
For goalposts, they used two rocks placed eight steps apart. Gholam took his five shots. Scored one, off target twice, and Adel easily saved two. Gholam’s goaltending was even worse than his shooting. Adel managed to score four, tricking him into leaning in the wrong direction each time, and the one shot he missed wasn’t even on goal.
他们用两块石头摆成了球门柱，相隔八步远。吴拉姆射了五次，进了一球，两次偏出，阿德尔轻松地扑住了两个。吴拉姆守门的本事比射术还糟。阿德尔罚进了四球，每次都骗得他扑错方向，只射失了一次，因为他根本就没踢正目标。
“That’s it, I’m winded,” Gholam said, throwing up his hands. He trudged over to the tree stump and sat down with a tired groan. Adel cradled the ball and sat next to him.
“就这么着吧。我喘不上气儿来了。”吴拉姆举手投降。他踉踉跄跄地走到树墩前，身心俱疲地呻吟了一声，坐到上面。阿德尔抱起球，挨着他坐下。
“Rematch?” Adel tried not to gloat, but it was hard. He was soaring inside.
“再赛一次？”阿德尔努力不让自己太得意，可这太难了。他心里乐开了花。
“These probably aren’t helping,” Gholam said, fishing a pack of cigarettes from the front pocket of his jeans. He had one left. He lit it with a single strike of a match, inhaled contentedly, and offered it to Adel. Adel was tempted to take it, if only to impress Gholam, but he passed, worried Kabir or his mother would smell it on him.
“这玩意儿大概只能帮倒忙。”吴拉姆说着，从牛仔裤的前兜里摸出一包香烟。只剩一支了，他拿出火柴，只划了一下，就把烟点着，很享受地吸了一大口，接着把烟递给阿德尔。阿德尔很想接过来，只是为了给吴拉姆留个好印象，可他没接，担心卡比尔或母亲闻到他身上的烟味。
He told Adel that this was his first time in Afghanistan. He had lived his whole life in Pakistan in the Jalozai refugee camp where he’d been born. He said Jalozai had been like a city, a huge maze of tents and mud huts and homes built from plastic and aluminum siding in a labyrinth of narrow passageways littered with dirt and shit. It was a city in the belly of a yet greater city. He and his brothers — he was the eldest by three years — were raised in the camp. He had lived in a small mud house there with his brothers, his mother, his father, whose name was Iqbal, and his paternal grandmother, Parwana. In its alleyways, he and his brothers had learned to walk and talk. They had gone to school there. He had played with sticks and rusty old bicycle wheels on its dirt streets, running around with other refugee kids, until the sun dipped and his grandmother called him home.
他告诉阿德尔，这是他头一次到阿富汗。他过去一直住在巴基斯坦的贾洛扎伊难民营，他也是在那儿出生的。他说贾洛扎伊就像一座城市，一个巨大的迷宫，有帐篷，有小泥屋，还有用塑料布和铝墙板搭的住所，一条条狭窄的过道让人辨不清东南西北，垃圾和粪便到处都是。它又像城中城，位于一座更大的城市的腹地。他和弟弟们都是在营里长大的。他是老大，比大弟弟年长三岁。他和弟弟们，还有母亲、父亲、奶奶一起，住一间小泥屋。他父亲叫伊克巴尔，奶奶叫帕尔瓦娜。在难民营的小巷子里，他和弟弟们学会了走路和说话。他们也在那儿上学。他在肮脏的街道上玩，玩棍子和生锈的旧自行车轱辘，和别的难民小孩一起到处瞎跑，一直玩到太阳落山，奶奶叫他回家。
“Wise,” Gholam said, leaning his head back.
“聪明。”吴拉姆仰起头说。
“The one where I grew up. In Pakistan.”
“我就是在那个营里长大的。在巴基斯坦。”
They talked idly about soccer for a while, and, to Adel’s pleasant surprise, Gholam’s knowledge turned out to be solid. They exchanged favorite match and favorite goal stories. They each offered a top-five-players list; mostly it was the same except Gholam’s included Ronaldo the Brazilian and Adel’s had Ronaldo the Portuguese. Inevitably, they got around to the 2006 Finals and the painful memory, for Adel, of the head-butting incident. Gholam said he watched the whole match standing with a crowd outside the window of a TV shop not far from the camp.
他们闲扯了一会儿足球，出乎阿德尔的意料，吴拉姆知道得又多又牢靠。他们聊了自己最喜欢的比赛，谈了最喜欢的进球，各自列出了五大球星的名单。两人意见大体相同，只是吴拉姆的名单里有巴西的罗纳尔多，而阿德尔的罗纳尔多是葡萄牙人。他们免不了要花些时间，谈一谈2006年的世界杯决赛，在阿德尔看来，头槌事件是个痛苦的回忆。吴拉姆说他看了整场比赛，和一大帮子人，在一家卖电视机的商店橱窗外头看的，那地方离营区不远。
“‘The camp’?”
“营区？”
“I liked it there,” he said. “I had friends. I knew everybody. We were doing all right too. I have an uncle in America, my father’s half brother, Uncle Abdullah. I’ve never met him. But he was sending us money every few months. It helped. It helped a lot.”
“我喜欢那儿。”他说，“我在那儿有朋友，我谁都认识。我们过得也不赖。我有个伯伯在美国，我爸同父异母的哥哥，阿卜杜拉。我从来没见过他。可他每隔几个月就给我们寄钱。这钱很管事儿。管很大的事儿。”
“Why did you leave?”
“你们为什么走了？”
“Had to. The Pakistanis shut down the camp. They said Afghans belong in Afghanistan. And then my uncle’s money stopped coming. So my father said we might as well go home and restart, now that the Taliban had run to the Pakistani side of the border anyway. He said we were guests in Pakistan who’d outstayed their welcome. I was really depressed. This place”– he waved his hand –“this is a foreign country to me. And the kids in the camp, the ones who’d actually been to Afghanistan? None of them had a good thing to say about it.”
“不走不行。巴基斯坦人关掉了难民营。他们说阿富汗人应该住在阿富汗。然后我伯伯的钱也收不到了。所以爸说，我们也回家吧，从头开始，反正塔利班已经过了边境，跑到巴基斯坦那边去了。他说我们是巴基斯坦的客人，待久了人家就不欢迎了。我真的很憋屈。这地方…”他摆了摆手，“这地方对我来说就是外国。营里那些小孩，那些到过阿富汗的怎么说？没一个有好话。”
Adel wanted to say that he knew how Gholam felt. He wanted to tell him how much he missed Kabul, and his friends, and his half brothers over in Jalalabad. But he had a feeling Gholam might laugh. Instead he said, “Well, it is pretty boring around here.”
阿德尔想说，他明白吴拉姆的感受。他想告诉他，自己多么想念喀布尔，多么想念他的朋友，还有贾拉拉巴德那几个异母哥哥。可他又觉得吴拉姆会笑话他。于是他说：“是啊，这地方真是无聊死了。”
Adel waited for more, but there was no more.
阿德尔等他接着说下去，可是往下就没了。
Adel understood vaguely that he’d been chastised.
阿德尔懵懵懂懂地感到，自己遭到了谴责。
Gholam took a drag and blew out a run of rings. Together, they watched the rings gently float away and disintegrate.
吴拉姆吸了口香烟，吐出一串烟圈。他俩一起看着烟圈慢慢飘远，碎乱。
Gholam laughed anyway. “I don’t think that’s quite what they meant,” he said.
吴拉姆还是笑了起来。“我可不觉得他们说的是这个意思。”他说。
“You live in a field?”
“你住在野地里？”
Adel asked him where he was staying now. Gholam tossed the cigarette butt, looked up at the sky, squinting at the brightness. “You know the open field over by the windmill?”
阿德尔问他现在住什么地方。吴拉姆扔掉烟头，仰起脸，看了看天，太阳照得他眯起了眼。“你知道磨坊那边有块空地吗？”
“My father said to me and my brothers, he said, ‘Wait… wait until you breathe the air in Shadbagh, boys, and taste the water.’ He was born here, my father, raised here too. He said, ‘You’ve never had water this cool and this sweet, boys.’ He was always talking to us about Shadbagh, which I guess was nothing but a small village back when he lived here. He said there was a kind of grape that you could grow only in Shadbagh and nowhere else in the world. You’d think he was describing Paradise.”
“我爸跟我和我弟弟说过，他说：‘等着瞧，儿子们，等你们呼吸到沙德巴格的空气，喝上沙德巴格的水。’我爸他就是在这儿出生的，也是在这儿长大的。他说，‘你们从来没喝过这么清凉，这么甘甜的水，儿子们。’他老跟我们谈起沙德巴格，我猜他住在这儿的时候，这地方什么也不是，就是个小村子。他说有一种葡萄，只有沙德巴格种得出来，世界上别的地方都种不成。你会觉得他说的是天堂。”
“Yes.”
“知道。”
“For the time being,” Gholam mumbled. “We got a tent.”
“暂时。”吴拉姆含含糊糊地说，“我们弄了个帐篷。”
“Don’t you have family here?”
“你们在这儿没有亲戚吗？”
“No. They’re either dead or gone. Well, my father does have an uncle in Kabul. Or he did. Who knows if he’s still alive. He was my grandmother’s brother, worked for a rich family there. But I guess Nabi and my grandmother haven’t spoken in decades — fifty years or more, I think. They’re strangers practically. I guess if he really had to, my father would go to him. But he wants to make a go of it on his own here. This is his home.”
“没有。他们不是死了，就是走了。对了，我爸有个舅舅在喀布尔。反正原先在那儿。谁知道他是不是还活着。他是我奶奶的大哥，在那儿给有钱人家打工。可我猜，纳比和我奶奶已经有好几十年不来往了，我想怎么也有五十年了。他们实际上成了生人。我猜要是我爸真没办法了，他会去找他的。可他想先凭自己的本事，在这儿干点名堂出来。这是他的家。”
They spent a few quiet moments sitting on the tree stump, watching the leaves in the orchards shiver in surges of warm wind. Adel thought of Gholam and his family sleeping nights in a tent, scorpions and snakes crawling in the field all around them.
他们沉默了一会儿，坐在树墩子上，看着果园里的树叶在热浪中颤抖。阿德尔想，每到夜晚，吴拉姆一家老小睡在帐篷里，四周都是野地里的蝎子和蛇。
Adel didn’t quite know why he ended up telling Gholam about the reason he and his parents moved here from Kabul. Or, rather, he couldn’t choose among the reasons. He wasn’t sure if he did it to dispel Gholam’s impression that he led a carefree existence simply because he lived in a big house. Or as a kind of school-yard one-upmanship. Maybe a plea for sympathy. Did he do it to narrow the gap between them? He didn’t know. Maybe all of these things. Nor did Adel know why it seemed important that Gholam like him, only that he dimly understood the reason to be more complicated than the mere fact of his frequent loneliness and his desire for a friend.
阿德尔不太明白，为什么到了最后，他跟吴拉姆讲了他和父母从喀布尔搬到这儿的原因。或者更确切地说，他无法给自己选出一个合适的理由。他不知道自己是不是想消除吴拉姆对他的成见，觉得他住在大房子里，所以过着无忧无虑的生活。或者这是由于校园里常见的争强好胜。也许是为了求得同情。他这样做是要拉近两人之间的距离吗？他不知道。也许上述原因都有。阿德尔同样不知道，为什么让吴拉姆喜欢他好像很重要，他只是朦朦胧胧地感到，原因一定复杂得多，而不只是他常有的孤独和他对朋友的渴望。
He didn’t know what reaction he had expected, but it did surprise him that Gholam had none. Still squinting up at the sun, Gholam said, “Yeah, I know.”
他不知道自己期待着怎样的反应，可是让他吃惊的是，吴拉姆什么反应也没有。他仍旧抬着头，在阳光下眯着眼睛。“对，我知道。”吴拉姆说。
“We moved to Shadbagh because someone tried to kill us in Kabul,” he said. “A motorcycle pulled up to the house one day and its rider sprayed our house with bullets. He wasn’t caught. But, thank God, none of us was hurt.”
“我们搬到沙德巴格，是因为在喀布尔有人要杀我们。”他说，“有一天，一辆摩托车开到我们家，骑车的人拿枪对房子扫射。他跑了。可是感谢真主，我们没人受伤。”
“You know?”
“你知道？”
“Your father picks his nose and people hear about it.”
“你爸挖一下鼻孔人们都知道。”
Adel watched him crush the empty cigarette box into a ball and stuff it into the front pocket of his jeans.
阿德尔看着他把空烟盒揉成一团，塞进牛仔裤的前兜。
“He does have his enemies, your father,” Gholam sighed.
“他确实有很多敌人，你爸。”吴拉姆叹了口气。
Adel knew this. Baba jan had explained to him that some of the people who had fought alongside him against the Soviets in the 1980s had become both powerful and corrupt. They had lost their way, he said. And because he wouldn’t join in their criminal schemes, they always tried to undermine him, to pollute his name by spreading false, hurtful rumors about him. This was why Baba jan always tried to shield Adel — he didn’t allow newspapers in the house, for instance, didn’t want Adel watching the news on TV or surfing the Internet.
阿德尔知道这个。巴巴江跟他解释过，有些八十年代和他并肩战斗，抗击苏联的人已经变得既有权，又腐败。他说他们迷失了方向。他不肯加入他们的犯罪阴谋，所以他们一直在对他下黑手，散布虚假的、恶毒的谣言，来玷污他的名声。正因为如此，巴巴江总是想把阿德尔保护起来，比如说，他不允许家里有报纸，也不想让阿德尔看电视新闻或上网。
“That’s easy. The Zidane.”
“很简单。这件齐达内。”
Gholam searched Adel’s eyes as a grin slowly spread across his face, exposing his rotting canine. “Cotton. You’re a piece of work. I don’t know what to say.”
吴拉姆使劲盯着阿德尔的眼睛，慢慢地咧开嘴，露出那颗龋烂的虎牙，脸上浮起了笑容。“棉花。真有你的。我不知道说什么才好。”
It was a brilliant hustle. Gholam dove left and right, saved all of Adel’s shots. Taking off the jersey, Adel felt stupid for getting cheated out of what was rightfully his, what was probably his most prized possession. He handed it over. With some alarm, he felt the sting of tears and fought them back.
一场光芒四射的攻守大战。吴拉姆左接右挡，将阿德尔的射门一一扑住。脱掉球衣时，阿德尔觉得自己好蠢，被人合法地骗走了也许是他最珍爱的财产。他交出了球衣，惊恐地感到泪水烧灼着眼底，他拼命忍住了，没哭。
Adel didn’t really understand this. He got up and bounced the ball. “You can say, ‘Rematch!'”
阿德尔有些摸不着头脑。他站起身，拍着球。“再赛一次，要不要？”
Now Adel was the one grinning. “Name your bet.”
现在轮到阿德尔咧嘴笑了。“赌什么你说吧。”
Gholam leaned in and said, “I also hear he’s quite the farmer.”
吴拉姆凑近了说：“我还听说，他种东西很在行。”
“And if I win, no, when I win?”
“那如果我赢了…不对，等我赢了呢？”
Adel shrugged. “You can see for yourself. Just a few acres of orchards. Well, and the cotton fields in Helmand too, I guess, for the factory.”
阿德尔耸耸肩。“你自己看吧。这才一二十亩果园。对了，在赫尔曼德还有棉花田，我猜是给工厂种的。”
“Let’s go.”
“走。”
“Rematch!”
“要！”
“Only, this time, I bet you don’t score one goal.”
“可是这一次，我打赌你一个球也进不了。”
“I were you,” Gholam said, “I wouldn’t worry about that improbability.”
“我要是你，”吴拉姆说，“才不考虑不可能的事呢。”
Gholam headed back toward the main road. Halfway there, he paused, fished the rolled-up cigarette box from his pocket, and hurled it over the wall of Adel’s house.
吴拉姆转过身，朝公路的方向走去。走到半途，他停下了，从口袋里摸出揉成一团的烟盒，用力扔过了阿德尔家的院墙。
“I may have to think about that.”
“我可以考虑考虑。”
“I’ll play you for it tomorrow,” Adel said. “The jersey.”
“明天我一定要把它赢回来。”阿德尔说，“赢回球衣。”
Every day for about a week, after his morning lessons, Adel took his ball and left the compound. He was able to time his escapades with the armed guard’s schedule of rounds for the first couple of tries. But on the third try, the guard caught him and wouldn’t let him leave. Adel went back to the house and returned with an iPod and a watch. From then on, the guard surreptitiously let Adel in and out provided he venture no farther than the edge of the orchards. As for Kabir and his mother, they barely noticed his one- or two-hour absences. It was one of the advantages of living in a house as big as this.
大约有一个礼拜，每天上午的课结束之后，阿德尔都拿上足球，溜出大院。头两次逃跑，他掐准了卫兵换岗的时间。可第三次，卫兵把他逮住了，不让他出门。阿德尔进了屋，再回来时，拿着一个iPod，一块手表。从此以后，卫兵便暗地里让阿德尔进进出出，由着他不守规矩，只要不越界跑进果园就行。至于卡比尔和母亲，他消失一两个小时，他们几乎注意不到。住这么大的房子，这就是好处所在。
At least Gholam had the tact not to put it on in his presence. As he was leaving, he grinned over his shoulder. “Your father, he’s not really gone for three months, is he?”
最起码吴拉姆懂得人情世故，没当他的面就把它穿上。走之前，他回过头，龇牙一笑。“你爸，他不是真的一走三个月吧？”
“Working,” Gholam said.
“工作。”吴拉姆说。
Then one day Gholam showed up, carrying a paper bag.
后来有一天，吴拉姆出现了，还带着一个纸袋。
“Where have you been?”
“你去哪儿了？”
Adel played alone behind the compound, over by the old tree stump in the clearing, each day hoping to see Gholam sauntering up. He kept an eye on the unpaved path stretching to the main road as he juggled, as he sat on the stump watching a fighter jet streak across the sky, as he listlessly flicked pebbles at nothing. After a while, he picked up his ball and plodded back to the compound.
阿德尔在大院后面一个人玩，守着空地上的老树墩子，天天盼着吴拉姆晃晃悠悠地出现。他总是留心看着通往公路的土道，不管是颠球的时候，还在坐在树墩上，看着一架战斗机喷出的尾流滑过天际，又或者无精打采，漫无目标地丢石子的时候。过了半晌，他只好捡起球，步履沉重地走回大院。
He told Adel that he and his father had been hired for a few days to make bricks. Gholam’s job was to mix mortar. He said he lugged pails of water back and forth, dragged bags of masonry cement and builder’s sand heavier than himself. He explained to Adel how he mixed mortar in the wheelbarrow, folding the mixture in the water with a hoe, folding it again and again, adding water, then sand, until the batch gained a smooth consistency that didn’t crumble. He would then push the wheelbarrow to the bricklayers and trot back to start a new batch. He opened his palms and showed Adel his blisters.
他告诉阿德尔，他和父亲打了几天工，做砖来着。吴拉姆的工作是拌砂浆。他说他来来回回地提水，搬运成袋的砌筑水泥和建筑用沙，那些口袋比他自己都重。他跟阿德尔讲解了他是怎样在独轮车里拌砂浆的，要给水泥加上水，拿锄头翻，一遍一遍地翻，再加水，接着放沙子，直到这一堆变得平滑，密实，看不出颗颗粒粒才行。然后，他要把独轮车推到砖匠那去，再跑回来，拌一堆新的。他伸出手，给阿德尔看他两只巴掌上的水泡。
“I don’t understand,” Adel said, surprised and cautiously thrilled.
“我不明白。”阿德尔说，既吃惊，又带着些谨慎的狂喜。
“I see some kid in town the other day wearing it,” Gholam said, asking for the ball with his fingers. Adel kicked it to him and Gholam juggled as he told the story. “Can you believe it? I go up to him and say, ‘Hey that’s my buddy’s shirt on you.’ He gives me a look. To make a long story short, we settle it in an alley. By the end, he’s begging me to take the shirt!” He caught the ball midair, spat, and grinned at Adel. “All right, so maybe I’d sold it to him a couple of days earlier.”
“前两天我在镇上看见有个小孩穿着它。”吴拉姆说着，拿手指了指足球，阿德尔把球踢给他，于是吴拉姆一边颠球，一边往下讲这个故事。“你相信吗？我走上前，跟他说：‘嘿，那是我哥们儿的衣服，怎么穿在你身上了？’他瞅了我一眼。长话短说好了，我们在巷子里把这事摆平了。到最后，他求着我把衣服拿走！”他在半空中把球接住，啐了一口，朝阿德尔龇牙一笑。“好吧，也可能是几天前，我先把球衣卖给他了。”
“That’s not right. If you sold it, it was his.”
“那就不对了。如果你卖给他，这就是他的。”
“Got you a surprise,” Gholam said. He reached into the bag and tossed Adel the Zidane jersey.
“吓着你了吧。”吴拉姆说。他把手伸进纸袋，拿出那件齐达内的球衣，丢给了阿德尔。
“Wow,” Adel said — stupidly, he knew, but he couldn’t think of another reply. The closest he had ever come to manual labor was one afternoon three years ago when he’d helped the gardener plant a few apple saplings in the backyard of their house in Kabul.
“哇。”阿德尔说——他知道这么说很愚蠢，可除此之外，他真不知该做何反应。他长这么大，跟体力劳动最近的一次接触，还是三年前的一个下午，在喀布尔的家里，他帮园丁在后院里栽了几棵苹果树苗。
“What, you don’t want it now? After everything I went through to get it back for you? It wasn’t all one-sided, you know. He landed a few decent punches.”
“什么，你现在不想要了？我费了这么大劲儿，把它给你弄回来。也不全是一边倒啦，你知道不？他有几拳也打得不错。”
“Besides, I tricked you in the first place and I felt bad about it. Now you get your shirt back. And as for me…” He pointed to his feet, and Adel saw a new pair of blue-and-white sneakers.
“再说了，起先我骗了你，我很过意不去。现在你拿回了衣服，至于我嘛…”他指了指自己的脚，阿德尔这才看见，那是一双蓝白相间的新球鞋。
They played for a while, kicking the ball back and forth, chasing it around. They went for a walk later, Adel breaking his promise to the guard and leading them into the orchards. They ate loquats off the trees and drank cold Fanta from cans Adel covertly fetched from the kitchen.
他们玩了一会儿，你一脚我一脚地踢球，追着它跑来跑去。后来他们又去散了步，阿德尔丢开了他对卫兵的保证，带着吴拉姆进了果园。他们从树上摘枇杷吃，还喝了两听冰过的芬达，这是阿德尔从厨房里偷偷拿出来的。
“Still…” Adel muttered.
“可是…”阿德尔咕哝着。
“He’ll live. Now, are we going to debate or are we going to play?”
“死不了。行了，咱们是要讨论呢，还是开玩？”
“Is he all right, the other guy?” Adel asked.
“他没事吧，那家伙？”阿德尔问。
“Is your father with you?”
“你父亲跟你来的吗？”
“Not today. He’s at the courthouse in Kabul. Come on, let’s go.”
“今天没来。他去喀布尔上法院了。快点，开球了。”
Soon, they began to meet this way almost daily. They played ball, chased each other through the orchards’ parallel rows of trees. They chatted about sports and movies, and when they had nothing to say they looked out on the town of Shadbagh-e-Nau, the soft hillsides in the distance and the hazy chain of mountains farther yet, and that was all right too.
很快，他们就开始用这种方式，差不多天天见面了。他们踢球，在果园里，在并列成行的树间互相追逐。他们谈体育，聊电影，没东西可讲的时候，他们就眺望沙德巴盖瑙，看着远处和缓的山坡，更远处朦胧而连绵的群山，就算这样，他们也觉得挺好。
One day, as they sat on the tree stump, Gholam said, “Have you ever been with a girl, Adel?”
一天，他们坐在树墩子上的时候，吴拉姆问：“你有没有和女孩子好过，阿德尔？”
“Yeah, I mean.”
“对，就是那个意思。”
“You mean –“
“你的意思是…”
Every day now Adel woke up eager for the sight of Gholam sneaking up the dirt path, the sound of his loud, confident voice. He was often distracted during his morning lessons, his concentration lapsing as he thought of the games they would play later, the stories they would tell each other. He worried he would lose Gholam. He worried Gholam’s father, Iqbal, wouldn’t find steady work in town, or a place to live, and Gholam would move to another town, another part of the country, and Adel had tried to prepare for this possibility, steel himself against the farewell that would then follow.
现在，阿德尔每天一醒过来，就急切地盼望着见到吴拉姆，看他在土路上悄悄走近，听他洪亮的嗓门，自信的谈吐。上午上课的时候，他常常走神，一想到他们待会儿要踢的比赛，要讲给对方听的故事，他的注意力就溜得一干二净。他担心自己会失去吴拉姆。他担心吴拉姆的父亲伊克巴尔在镇上找不到稳定的工作，或者找不到住的地方，那么吴拉姆就会搬走，去别的镇，去阿富汗的另一个地区，阿德尔想为这种可能性做好准备，让自己坚强起来，去面对即将来临的告别。
Adel felt a rush of heat around his ears. He briefly contemplated lying, but he knew Gholam would see right through him. He mumbled, “You have?”
阿德尔觉得自己的耳朵猛地烧了起来。一时之间，他动了撒谎的念头，可他知道会被吴拉姆识破。他嘟嘟哝哝地问：“你好过了？”
Gholam lit a cigarette and offered one to Adel. This time Adel took it, after glancing over his shoulder to make sure the guard wasn’t peeking around the corner or that Kabir hadn’t decided to step out. He took a drag and launched immediately into a protracted coughing fit that had Gholam smirking and pounding him on the back.
吴拉姆点了一支香烟，给阿德尔也递了一支。这一次他接过来了，接之前瞟了一眼身后，确信卫兵没在角落里偷看，卡比尔也没决定出门。他吸了一口，马上开始了一轮漫长的咳嗽，吴拉姆一边得意地笑着，一边给他捶背。
“Friend of mine back at the camp,” Gholam said in a conspiratorial tone, “he was older, he took me to a whorehouse in Peshawar.”
“我在营里那会儿有个朋友，”吴拉姆用一种推心置腹的腔调说，“他比我大，他带我去了白沙瓦的妓院。”
“So, have you or not?” Adel wheezed, eyes tearing.
“那，你有没有嘛？”阿德尔喘着粗气，满眼是泪地问。
He told the story. The small, filthy room. The orange curtains, the cracked walls, the single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling, the rat he had seen dart across the floor. The sound of rickshaws outside, sputtering up and down the street, cars rumbling. The young girl on the mattress, finishing a plate of biryani, chewing and looking at him without any expression. How he could tell, even in the dim light, that she had a pretty face and that she was hardly any older than he. How she had scooped up the last grains of rice with a folded piece of naan, pushed away the plate, lain down, and wiped her fingers on her trousers as she’d pulled them down.
他讲了这故事。那间又小又脏的屋子，赤黄色的窗帘，有裂缝的墙，仅有的一个灯泡吊在天花板上，他看见耗子嗖地一下溜过地板。屋外传来黄包车的动静，嘎啦嘎拉地在街上来来回回，小汽车呼隆呼隆地驶过。褥子上有个小女孩，拿着一盘子印度炒肉米饭，还没吃完，一边嘴里嚼着东西，一边面无表情地打量他。虽然灯光昏暗，他还是看得出来，她有一张漂亮的脸蛋，年龄肯定不比他大。她把馕折起来，刮净了最后几颗饭粒，把盘子往边上一推，就躺倒了，再拿指头一抹，裤子便已褪落。
Adel listened, fascinated, enraptured. He had never had a friend like this. Gholam knew more about the world than even Adel’s half brothers who were several years older than him. And Adel’s friends back in Kabul? They were all the sons of technocrats and officials and ministers. They all lived variations of Adel’s own life. The glimpses Gholam had allowed Adel into his life suggested an existence rife with trouble, unpredictability, hardship, but also adventure, a life worlds removed from Adel’s own, though it unfolded practically within spitting distance of him. Listening to Gholam’s stories, Adel’s own life sometimes struck him as hopelessly dull.
阿德尔听得神魂颠倒，心花怒放。他可从没有交过这样的朋友。吴拉姆见过的世面，比阿德尔那些年长几岁的异母哥哥还要多。那么他在喀布尔的朋友呢？他们都是技术专家、官僚和部长的子弟，过着和阿德尔大同小异的日子。吴拉姆允许阿德尔一窥他的生活，由此表明，还有另一种生存的状态，虽然饱含着苦恼，无常，艰辛，却也充满了冒险，一个与阿德尔自己的人生远远相隔的生活世界，哪怕它展现出来的时候，实际上只有一口痰的距离。听着吴拉姆的故事，阿德尔有时真觉得，自己的生活无趣得令人绝望。
But Gholam had already moved on. This was often the pattern of their conversations, Gholam choosing what they would talk about, launching into a story with gusto, roping Adel in, only to lose interest and leave both the story and Adel dangling.
可是吴拉姆已经换了话题。他们之间的谈话常常就是这个样子，该谈什么，都由吴拉姆来选，兴趣盎然地扯出一段故事，把阿德尔圈在里面，最后他却往往没了兴致，留下那故事和阿德尔，双双吊在半空。
Adel blushed. “What was it like?”
阿德尔脸红了。“那是怎么一回事嘛？”
“So did you do it, then?” Adel said. “Did you, you know, stick it in her?”
“所以你干了，嗯？”阿德尔问，“你…你知道的…你把那个戳进她里面了？”
Now, instead of finishing up the story he had started, Gholam said, “My grandmother says her husband, my grandfather Saboor, told her a story about this tree once. Well, that was long before he cut it down, of course. My grandfather told it to her when they were both kids. The story was that if you had a wish, you had to kneel before the tree and whisper it. And if the tree agreed to grant it, it would shed exactly ten leaves on your head.”
现在，故事是吴拉姆开的头，他却不肯把它讲完，反而说道：“我奶奶说她丈夫，也就是我爷爷萨布尔，给她讲过一个故事，说的是从前这棵树。嗯，那肯定是砍倒它以前很久的事了。我爷爷讲给她听的时候，他们还都是小孩呢。故事说，如果你有一个愿望，那你就得跪在这棵树前面，把愿望小声讲出来。如果树答应了，就会让叶子落到你头上，不多不少，正好十片。”
“Well, you wouldn’t have, would you?”
“那是，你不可能听说的，对不对？”
“No. We had a cup of chai and discussed Rumi. What do you think?”
“没。我们喝了杯印度奶茶，讨论了一番鲁米。你怎么认为的？”
“I never heard that,” Adel says.
“我从来没听说过。”阿德尔说。
It was then that Adel caught on to what Gholam had really said. “Wait. Your grandfather cut down our tree?”
这个时候，阿德尔才一下子明白了吴拉姆的意思。“等等。你爷爷砍了我们的树？”
Adel blinked. “What does that mean?”
阿德尔呆了一下。“这是什么意思？”
Gholam turned his eyes to him. “Your tree? It’s not your tree.”
吴拉姆扭头看着他。“你们的树？这不是你们的树。”
Feeling a little nauseated, his heart thumping heavily, Adel said, “I thought we were friends. Why are you telling these terrible lies?”
阿德尔觉得自己隐隐作呕，心怦怦直跳。“我以为咱们是朋友。你为什么对我撒这么可怕的谎？”他说。
Gholam bore his gaze even deeper into Adel’s face. For the first time, Adel could detect no trace of his friend’s customary liveliness or of his trademark smirk or lighthearted mischief. His face was transformed, his expression sober, startlingly adult.
吴拉姆的目光死死地盯在阿德尔脸上。这是头一次，阿德尔一点儿也寻不到他朋友平时那种活泼的，标志性的坏笑，或是那种无忧无虑的顽皮劲儿。他脸色变了，他表情冷了，令人惊愕地换上了一副大人样儿。
“This was my family’s tree. This was my family’s land. It’s been ours for generations. Your father built his mansion on our land. While we were in Pakistan during the war.” He pointed to the orchards. “These? They used to be people’s homes. But your father had them bulldozed to the ground. Just like he brought down the house where my father was born, where he was raised.”
“这是我家的树，这是我家的地，世世代代都是我们的。你爸在我们的地上盖了他的大屋。那时候在打仗，我们还在巴基斯坦。”他指了指果园。“这些？这些原来都是人们的房子，可全让你爸给推平了。他也毁了我爸在里面出生，在里面长大的家。”
Adel blinked.
阿德尔目瞪口呆。
“He claimed our land as his own and he built that”– here, he actually sneered as he threw a thumb toward the compound –“that thing in its stead.”
“他说我们的地是他的地，然后他盖了那个…”说到这儿，他冷笑了一声，用大拇指朝大院的方向一指，“那个玩意儿。”
“Remember when I tricked you and took your jersey?” Gholam said, a flush rising to his cheeks. “You almost cried. Don’t deny it, I saw you. That was over a shirt. A shirt. Imagine how my family felt, coming all the way from Pakistan, only to get off the bus and find this thing on our land. And then your goon in the purple suit ordering us off our own land.”
“还记得我骗走你球衣的事吗？”吴拉姆两颊泛红，“你当时都快哭了。别不承认，我看到了。那只是件衣服。一件衣服。想想我们全家是什么感受，大老远地从巴基斯坦回来，下了公共汽车，竟然在自己的地上看到这玩意儿。你们家那个穿紫西装的打手还命令我们，从我们自己的地上滚出去。”
“My father is not a thief!” Adel shot back. “Ask anyone in Shadbagh-e-Nau, ask them what he’s done for this town.” He thought of how Baba jan received people at the town mosque, reclined on the floor, teacup before him, prayer beads in hand. A solemn line of people, stretching from his cushion to the front entrance, men with muddy hands, toothless old women, young widows with children, every one of them in need, each waiting for his or her turn to ask for a favor, a job, a small loan to repair a roof or an irrigation ditch or buy milk formula. His father nodding, listening with infinite patience, as though each person in line mattered to him like family.
“我父亲不是贼！”阿德尔开始反击了，“问问沙德巴盖瑙随便哪个人，问问他们，他为这镇子都做了什么。”他想起了巴巴江怎样在镇上的清真寺里接待民众，他席地而坐，身前放着茶杯，手拿念珠，人们一本正经地排成队，从他坐的垫子那儿，一直排到了大门口，有两手沾满泥土的男人，牙齿掉光的老太太，拖儿带女的年轻寡妇，人人都有困难，人人等着轮到自己，来求他帮忙，要一份工作，借点小钱来修屋顶，通灌渠，买奶粉。父亲边听边点头，带着无穷的耐心，好像排队的每个人都像他自己的家人一样重要。
Gholam stood up, took a step or two, and paused. “Just so you know,” he said, “I hold nothing against you. You’re just an ignorant little boy. But next time Baba goes to Helmand, ask him to take you to that factory of his. See what he’s got growing out there. I’ll give you a hint. It’s not cotton.”
吴拉姆站起身，迈出一两步，又停下了。“只是想让你知道，”他说，“我一点也没记恨你。你只是个无知的小男孩。可下一次你巴巴去赫尔曼德的时候，让他带你去工厂，看看他在那儿种出了什么。我先给你个提示。那不是棉花。”
“Your Baba won’t talk to him. He won’t acknowledge what he’s done. He drives past like we’re stray dogs.”
“你巴巴不会和他谈的。他做的事他是不会承认的。他坐在车里扬长而去，好像我们都是野狗。”
“I’m sure if your father talks to Baba –“
“我相信，如果你父亲找巴巴江谈…”
“Yeah? Then how come my father has the ownership documents?” Gholam said. “The ones he gave to the judge at the courthouse.”
“是吗？那我爸的地契是从哪儿来的？”吴拉姆说，“他已经上了法庭，把地契给了法官。”
“You’re not dogs,” Adel said. It was a struggle to keep his voice even. “You’re buzzards. Just like Kabir said. I should have known.”
“你们不是狗。”阿德尔说。他拼命让自己的声音保持平静。“你们是秃鹰。跟卡比尔说的一样。我早该明白。”
Later that night, before dinner, Adel lay in a bath full of warm soapy water. He could hear the TV downstairs, Kabir watching an old pirate movie. The anger, which had lingered all afternoon, had washed through Adel, and now he thought that he’d been too rough with Gholam. Baba jan had told him once that no matter how much you did, sometimes the poor spoke ill of the rich. They mainly did it out of disappointment with their own lives. It couldn’t be helped. It was natural, even. And we mustn’t blame them, Adel, he said.
后来到了晚上，吃晚饭之前，阿德尔躺在放满肥皂水的浴缸里，热乎乎的。他能听到楼下电视的声音，卡比尔正在看一部老旧的海盗片。整个下午，愤怒挥之不去，将阿德尔周身洗刷，此时他却感觉，自己对吴拉姆过于粗鲁了。巴巴江曾经告诉他，不管你帮了穷人多大的忙，有时他们还是会讲富人的坏话。他们这样做主要是因为对自己的生活感到失望。这是避免不了的，甚至是合乎常情的。咱们千万不要责怪他们，阿德尔。他说。
“I’m not hungry,” he said.
“我不饿。”他说。
“Oh.” She came inside and grabbed a towel off the rack. “Here. Sit. Let me dry your hair.”
“哦。”她进了屋，从架子上抓了条毛巾。“过来。坐下。我给你把头发擦干。”
As he was drying himself off, his mother poked her head through the bathroom door. “You’re coming down for dinner?”
他正擦干身子的当口，母亲把头探进了浴室的门。“你下来吃晚饭吗？”
“I can do it myself,” Adel said.
“我自己会擦。”阿德尔说。
Adel was not too naïve to know that the world was a fundamentally unfair place; he only had to gaze out the window of his bedroom. But he imagined that for people like Gholam, the acknowledgment of this truth brought no satisfaction. Maybe people like Gholam needed someone to stand culpable, a flesh-and-bones target, someone they could conveniently point to as the agent of their hardship, someone to condemn, blame, be angry with. And perhaps Baba jan was right when he said the proper response was to understand, to withhold judgment. To answer with kindness, even. Watching little soapy bubbles come up to the surface and pop, Adel thought of his father building schools and clinics when he knew there were people in town who spread wicked gossip about him.
阿德尔没那么天真，他不会不知道，从本质上说，这世界就是个不公平的地方；他只需要从自己的卧室往窗外看几眼就够了。但是他想，对吴拉姆这样的人来说，承认这一真相并不能让他们感到满足。也许吴拉姆他们需要有人扮演罪人的角色，一个有血有肉的靶子，作为替罪羊，让他们方便地把自己的艰辛归罪于他，声讨他，责备他，迁怒于他。也许巴巴江是对的，他说了，体面的反应是去理解，而不是急于做出评判。甚至要以德报怨。看着小小的肥皂泡浮上水面，又依次碎去，阿德尔想，父亲明知道镇上有人在散布关于他的邪恶传言，可他还是建了学校，盖了医院。
She stood behind him, her eyes studying him in the mirror. “Are you all right, Adel?”
她站在他身后，眼睛通过镜子端详着他。“你没事吧，阿德尔？”
He noticed the pause in his mother’s movements. “Of course,” she said. “So have you.”
他注意到母亲的动作停顿了一下。“当然见过。”她说，“你也见过。”
He shrugged. She rested a hand on his shoulder and looked at him as if expecting him to rub his cheek against it. He didn’t.
他耸了耸肩。她把一只手放到他肩膀上，看了看他，好像在等着，等他把脸枕到她手上蹭一蹭。他没有。
“Mother, have you ever seen Baba jan’s factory?”
“妈，你见过巴巴江的工厂吗？”
“I don’t mean pictures. Have you actually seen it? Been to it?”
“我说的不是照片。你亲眼见过吗？你去过那儿吗？”
Adel nodded.
阿德尔点了点头。
“How could I?” his mother said, tilting her head in the mirror. “Helmand is unsafe. Your father would never put me or you in harm’s way.”
“我怎么可能？”母亲说着，对着镜子歪了歪脑袋，“赫尔曼德不安全。你父亲绝不会让我，让你受到伤害的。”
“I’m glad you came,” Adel said, “I have something for you.” From the top of the tree stump he fetched the coat he had been bringing with him daily since their spat. It was chocolate brown leather, with a soft sheepskin lining and a hood that could be zippered on and off. He extended it to Gholam. “I’ve only worn it a few times. It’s a little big for me. It should fit you.”
“很高兴你来了。”阿德尔说，“我有东西给你。”他从树墩子上拿起一件外套，自从他俩吵过架，他天天都带着这件衣服。这是件棕色的皮衣，巧克力一样的颜色，有软软的羊皮衬里，带帽兜，可以用拉锁拉上，也可以把它取掉。他把外套递到吴拉姆面前。“我穿了没几次。有点儿大。你穿应该挺合适的。”
Three days later, Gholam showed up again. He walked briskly up to Adel and stopped.
三天后，吴拉姆又出现了。他快步走到阿德尔面前停下。
Downstairs, cannons blasted and pirates hollered their war cries.
楼下大炮轰鸣，海盗杀声震天。
Adel slowly dropped the hand holding the jacket.
阿德尔慢慢放下了拿着夹克的手。
Gholam didn’t make a move. “We took a bus to Kabul and went to the courthouse yesterday,” he said flatly. “Guess what the judge told us? He said he had bad news. He said there was an accident. A small fire. My father’s ownership documents burned in it. Gone. Destroyed.”
吴拉姆一动不动。“昨天我们搭公共汽车，到喀布尔上法院去了。”他直截了当地说，“猜猜法官怎么跟我们说的？他说他有个坏消息。他说出了事故。一起小火灾。把我父亲的地契烧了。没有了。毁掉了。”
“And as he’s telling us that there’s nothing he can do now without the papers, do you know what he has on his wrist? A brand-new gold watch he wasn’t wearing the last time my father saw him.”
“他告诉我们，没有文件他就无能为力了。你知道这时候他手腕子上有什么吗？一块崭新的金表，我父亲上次见到他时，他还没戴着呢。”
Adel blinked.
阿德尔目瞪口呆。
Gholam flicked his gaze to the coat. It was a cutting, punishing look, meant to inflict shame. It worked. Adel shrunk. In his hand, he felt the coat shifting, transforming from peace offering to bribe.
吴拉姆飞快地瞥了一眼那件外套。这严厉的、刀子一样的目光，明摆着要让人羞愧难当。奏效了。阿德尔畏缩了。他感到手中这件衣服正在变化，从和平的赠礼变成行贿的脏物。
The evening of the same day that he returned, Baba jan threw a party at the house. Adel was sitting now beside his father at the head of the big cloth that had been spread on the floor for the meal. Baba jan sometimes preferred to sit on the ground and to eat with his fingers, especially if he was seeing friends from his jihadi years. Reminds me of the cave days, he joked. The women were eating at the table in the dining room with spoons and forks, Adel’s mother seated at the head. Adel could hear their chatter echoing off the marble walls. One of them, a thick-hipped woman with long hair dyed red, was engaged to be married to one of Baba jan’s friends. Earlier in the evening, she had shown Adel’s mother pictures on her digital camera of the bridal shop they had visited in Dubai.
巴巴江回来以后，当天晚上就在家里开了个派对。阿德尔挨着父亲坐在首席，地板上铺了一大块布，用来摆放饭菜。巴巴江有时候更喜欢席地而坐，空手抓东西吃，特别是他见到圣战时期的朋友时。让我想起钻山洞的那些日子。他打趣说。女人们坐在餐厅的桌边，拿着刀叉用餐，阿德尔的母亲坐首席。阿德尔听到她们叽叽呱呱，回荡在大理石的墙壁之间。其中有个女人屁股肥厚，长长的头发染成红色，已经订了婚，准备嫁给巴巴江的一个朋友。晚饭前，她曾拿着数码相机，给阿德尔的母亲看照片，那是他们去迪拜时在婚纱店里拍的。
Gholam spun around and hurried back toward the road in brisk, busy steps.
吴拉姆转过身，急不可耐地走向大路，步子飞快而匆忙。
Over tea after the meal, Baba jan told a story about the time his unit had ambushed a Soviet column to stop it from entering a valley up north. Everyone listened closely.
饭后喝茶的时候，巴巴江讲了个故事，当年他的队伍伏击过一支苏军小分队，以阻止苏联人向北进犯谷地。人人侧耳细听。
“We outnumbered them, maybe three to one, but they had heavy weaponry and it wasn’t long before they were attacking us! Attacking our positions in the orchards. Soon, everybody was scattered. We ran for it. Me and this guy, Mohammad something or other, we ran together. We’re running side by side in a field of grapevines, not the kind on posts and wires but the kind that people let grow out on the ground. Bullets are flying everywhere and we’re running for our lives, and suddenly we both trip and go down. In a second flat, I’m back up on my feet running, but there’s no sign of this Mohammad something or other. I turn and yell, ‘Get the hell up, you donkey’s ass!'”
“我们人比他们多，差不多三个打一个，可他们有重武器，所以没过多久，他们就开始向我们进攻了！进攻我们在这果园里的阵地。很快就把大伙打散了。我们开始逃命。我和这家伙，他叫穆罕默德或是别的什么玩意儿，我俩一起跑。我们前后脚跑进了一块葡萄地，不是那种搭架子、捆铁丝的葡萄，而是直接在地里爬出来的那种。到处都有子弹在飞，我们只顾着逃命，突然我俩绊了一跤，全摔倒了。我马上爬起来接着跑，可那个穆罕默德什么的没影了。我转过身，大声叫着：‘快他妈起来，你这驴屌！’”
A murmur spread around the room. Heads shook. Adel knew that at least half the men in the room were former Mujahideen.
房间里响起了一阵低语。好多脑袋在摇晃。阿德尔知道，屋里的男人至少有一半是从前的圣战游击队员。
“When they entered the kill zone,” Baba jan said, one hand absently stroking Adel’s hair, “we opened fire. We hit the lead vehicle, then a few jeeps. I thought they would back out or try to plow through. But the sons of whores stopped, dismounted, and engaged us in gunfire. Can you believe it?”
“他们一进伏击圈，”巴巴江说，一只手心不在焉地摩挲着阿德尔的头发，“我们就开了火。我们击中了领头的车，接着又揍了几辆吉普。我本来以为他们会撤出战斗，要不就想法冲出包围，可这帮婊子养的不走了，下了车，朝我们射击。你能相信吗？”
“Like hell I will,” Baba jan growled, already pushing forward. “I’m not cowering under my own roof.”
“扯他妈蛋。”巴巴江咆哮着，人已经在往外冲了。“我是不会在自己家里做缩头乌龟的。”
Baba jan paused for dramatic effect. He pushed a fist to his lips to fight laughter. “And then he pops up and starts running. And — would you believe it?– the crazy son of a whore is carrying two armfuls of grapes! One mound in each arm!”
巴巴江稍作停顿，来增加戏剧性效果。他把手蜷起来，挡在嘴前，憋住笑。“然后…然后他突然蹦了出来，撒丫子就跑。你猜怎么着？这发了疯的婊子养的两只臂弯里抱着满满的葡萄！一个手里一堆！”
From the dining room, women screamed. Something metallic, maybe a fork or a butter knife, clanged loudly on the marble. The men bolted to their feet. Azmaray and Kabir came running into the room, handguns already drawn.
餐厅里传来女人们的尖叫。某种金属的器具，也许是叉子或黄油刀，响亮地掉在大理石上，当的一声。男人们一下子站起身。阿兹马赖和卡比尔跑进了房间，他们已经拔出了手枪。
Laughter erupted. Adel laughed too. His father rubbed his back and pulled him close. Someone started to tell another story, and Baba jan reached for the cigarette sitting next to his plate. But he never got the chance to light it because suddenly glass shattered somewhere in the house.
哄堂大笑。阿德尔也笑了。父亲抚弄着他的后背，又把他拉近。有人开始讲别的故事，巴巴江伸手去够放在盘子边上的香烟，可他根本没机会把烟点着，因为突然之间，房子里有个地方的玻璃碎了。
“It came from the entrance,” Kabir said. And, just as he said this, glass broke again.
“大门方向过来的。”卡比尔说。话音未落，又一块玻璃碎了。
He headed toward the foyer, trailed by Adel, Azmaray, Kabir, and all the male guests. On their way, Adel saw Kabir pick up a metal rod they used in the winter to stoke the fire in the stove. Adel saw his mother too as she ran to join them, her face pale and drawn. When they reached the foyer, a rock came flying through the window and shards of glass crashed to the floor. The woman with red hair, the bride-to-be, screamed. Outside, someone was yelling.
他走向门厅，身后跟着阿德尔、阿兹马赖、卡比尔，以及所有的男宾。阿德尔一边走，一边看着卡比尔抓起了一根铁棍，那是到了冬天，他们生炉子拨火用的。阿德尔也看见了母亲，她跑过来赶上他们，她脸色苍白，形容慌乱。大伙刚到门厅，一块石头就飞进了窗户，玻璃砸碎了一地。那个红头发女人，那个待嫁的新娘，尖叫起来。屋子外头，有人在嚎叫。
“Wait here, Commander Sahib, we’ll have a look,” Azmaray said.
“您别动，司令官，我们去看看。”阿兹马赖说。
“How the hell did they get past the guard?” someone said behind Adel.
“他们怎么过的门岗？”阿德尔身后有人说。
“Commander Sahib, no!” Kabir barked. But Adel’s father had already opened the front door.
“司令官，不！”卡比尔大叫。但是阿德尔的父亲已经打开了大门。
“Take him upstairs,” Baba jan said over his shoulder to Adel’s mother. “Now!”
“带他上楼。”巴巴江回过头，吩咐阿德尔的母亲。“快！”
The light was dimming, but it was summer, and the sky was still awash in pale yellow. In the distance, Adel saw little clusters of light, people in Shadbagh-e-Nau settling in for dinner with their families. The hills running along the horizon had darkened and soon night would fill in all the hollows. But it wasn’t dark enough, not yet, to shroud the old man Adel saw standing at the foot of the front steps, a rock in each hand.
灯光昏暗，可这是夏日，天空仍然一片灰黄。阿德尔看见，在远远的地方，有一小簇、一小簇的灯光，那是沙德巴盖瑙的百姓全家围坐，吃着晚餐。铺展在天际线的群山已经暗了，很快，夜就将填满所有的虚空。但黑暗是不够的，现在还不够，没有办法包覆那个老汉。阿德尔看见他站在大门的台阶下，两手各抓着一块石头。
Adel’s mother led him up the staircase by the shoulders, down the hallway, and into the master bedroom she shared with Baba jan. She closed the door, locked it, pulled the curtains shut, and turned on the TV. She guided Adel to the bed and together they sat. On the screen, two Arabs, dressed in long kurta shirts and knit caps, were working on a monster truck.
阿德尔的母亲抓着他的肩膀，带着他走上楼梯，穿过走廊，进了她和巴巴江的卧室。她把门关上，锁住，拉上窗帘，打开了电视机。她把阿德尔拉到床边，两人一起坐下。屏幕上有两个阿拉伯人，穿着长长的库尔塔衬衫，戴着针织的小帽，正在摆弄一辆大脚车。
Adel shook his head. He was weeping now, sobbing. “What is he going to do, Mother? What is he going to do to that old man?”
阿德尔摇了摇头。他现在哭起来了，呜呜咽咽。“他要做什么呀，妈妈？他要对那老头做什么？”
“What is he going to do to that old man?” Adel said. He couldn’t stop from shivering. “Mother, what is he going to do to him?”
“他要对那老头做什么？”阿德尔问。他止不住地哆嗦着，“妈妈，他要对他做什么？”
He looked up at his mother, and saw a cloud pass over her face and he suddenly knew, he knew right away, that whatever came out of her mouth next could not be trusted.
他仰起脸，望着母亲，只见她脸上飘过一片阴云，他突然知道了，他马上就知道了，接下来不管从她嘴里说出什么，都不能相信。
His mother kept saying the same thing, that everything was going to be all right, that it would all turn out just fine, that no one was going to get hurt. But the more she said it, the more he sobbed, until it exhausted him and at some point he fell asleep on his mother’s lap.
母亲不停地说着同样的话，谁也不会有事的，一切都会好的，没有人会受到伤害。可是她越这样说，他哭得就越厉害，最后，他哭尽了力气，然后就伏在母亲腿上睡去了。
Former Commander Escapes Assassination Attempt.
《刺杀未遂，前指挥官安然无恙》。
“He’s going to talk to him,” she said with a tremor. “He’s going to reason with whoever is out there. It’s what your father does. He reasons with people.”
“他会和他谈谈。”她用颤抖的声音说道，“他会讲道理，不管外面那个人是谁。你父亲总是这样做的。他和人讲道理。”
Adel read the story in his father’s study, on his father’s computer. The story described the attack as “vicious” and the assailant as a former refugee with “suspected ties to the Taliban.” Midway through the article, Adel’s father was quoted as saying that he had feared for the safety of his family. Especially my innocent little boy, he’d said. The article gave no name to the assailant nor any indication of what had happened to him.
阿德尔在父亲的书房里，在父亲的电脑上读了这篇报道。文章形容刺杀是“凶恶的”，刺客是从前的难民，“涉嫌通谋塔利班。”文章的中间部分引述了阿德尔父亲的话，他说他担心家人的安全。特别是我无辜的小儿子。他说。文章没有披露刺客的名字，对他的下场也只字未提。
Adel shut off the computer. He wasn’t supposed to be using it and he had trespassed, coming into his father’s study. A month ago, he wouldn’t have dared do either. He trudged back to his room, lay on his bed, and bounced an old tennis ball against the wall. Thump! Thump! Thump! It wasn’t long before his mother poked her head in through the door and asked, then told him, to stop, but he didn’t. She lingered at the door for a while before slinking away.
阿德尔关掉了电脑。他不该用它的，他还私闯禁地，进了父亲的书房。一个月之前，这两样他哪一样也不敢做。他拖着脚走回自己的房间，躺到床上，拿一个旧网球往墙上一下下地丢着。砰！砰！砰！没过多久，母亲就从门外探头进来，先是请他，既而吩咐他住手，可他不听。她在门口磨蹭半晌，终究还是黯然离去。
Thump! Thump! Thump!
砰！砰！砰！
On the surface, nothing had changed. A transcript of Adel’s daily activities would have revealed him falling back into a normal rhythm. He still got up at the same hour, washed, had breakfast with his parents, lessons with his tutor. Afterward, he ate lunch and then spent the afternoon lying around, watching movies with Kabir or else playing video games.
表面上看，一切都没变。若将阿德尔每天的起居做个记录，就会发现他恢复了正常的节奏。他仍然在同一时间起床，洗漱，和父母一起吃早餐，上家庭教师的课。此后，他吃午饭，然后花上整个下午躺着，和卡比尔看片子，要不就玩电子游戏。
But nothing was the same. Gholam may have cracked a door open to him, but it was Baba jan who had pushed him through it. Dormant gears in Adel’s mind had begun to turn. Adel felt as though, overnight, he had acquired an altogether new auxiliary sense, one that empowered him to perceive things he never had before, things that had stared him in the face for years. He saw, for instance, how his mother had secrets inside of her. When he looked at her, they practically rippled over her face. He saw her struggles to keep from him all the things she knew, all the things she kept locked up, closed off, carefully guarded, like the two of them in this big house. He saw for the first time his father’s house for the monstrosity, the affront, the monument to injustice, that it privately was to everyone else. He saw in people’s rush to please his father the intimidation, the fear, that was the real underpinning of their respect and deference. He thought Gholam would be proud of him for this insight. For the first time, Adel felt truly aware of the broader movements that had always governed his life.
但是一切都不同了。吴拉姆为他撞开了门，把他推出去的却是巴巴江。静止在阿德尔心里的齿轮已经开始转动。阿德尔觉得，仿佛一夜之间，他便获得了一种全新的、辅助性的感知能力，可以让他感知以前完全感知不到的事情，那些经年累月、近在眼前的事情。比方说，他看到了母亲怎样把秘密深藏在心底。当他注视着母亲，那些秘密简直形同微澜，浮荡在她脸上。他看到她一次又一次拼命努力，对他隐瞒她所知道的一切，她锁闭，隔离，严密看管的一切，正像他们两人深锁在这大大的宅院里一样。他第一次把父亲的房子视为丑恶与侮辱的象征，一座为不公不义建造的纪念碑，私下里，所有人都在承受着父亲的不公与不义。从人们对他父亲的趋附逢迎里，他看到了恫吓，恐惧，这才是他们表露出尊敬与顺从的真正基础。他想，吴拉姆将为他这一次的顿悟感到骄傲。有生以来第一次，阿德尔真正意识到了一直以来支配着自己人生的强势力量。
This last discovery was, in some ways, the most surprising to Adel. The revelations of what he now knew his father had done — first in the name of jihad, then for what he had called the just rewards of sacrifice — had left Adel reeling. At least for a while. For days after that evening the rocks had come crashing through the window, Adel’s stomach ached whenever his father walked into the room. He found his father barking into his mobile phone, or even heard him humming in the bath, and he felt his spine crumpling, his throat going painfully dry. His father kissed him good night, and Adel’s instinct was to recoil. He had nightmares. He dreamt he was standing at the edge of the orchards, watching a thrashing about among the trees, the glint of a metal rod rising and falling, the sound of metal striking meat and bone. He woke from these dreams with a howl locked in his chest. Bouts of weeping side-swiped him at random moments.
从某些方面来看，最后这个发现也是最让阿德尔感到意外的。现在他知道父亲做过的事——最初是以圣战的名义，后来如他所说，是“靠牺牲换来的合理回报”——这些事情暴露出的真相让阿德尔头晕目眩。至少一段时间如此。石头破窗而入的那个夜晚之后，有些天里，只要父亲一进屋，他便开始感到胃痛。每当他发现父亲对着手机吼叫，或者只是听到他在浴缸里哼着小曲，他都会觉得脊背发麻，喉咙发干，痛苦莫名。父亲睡前亲他的时候，阿德尔的本能反应是躲开。他做噩梦。他梦见自己站在果园边上，注视着树林里的棒笞，铁棍起起落落的光华，铁器击打肉与骨的声响。他从这些梦里醒来，带着锁在胸腔里的一声悲号。随时随地，哀哭发作，如肋骨受到重击。
And of the wildly conflicting truths that resided within a person. Not just in his father, or his mother, or Kabir.
还有，还有那些在一个人内心深处剧烈冲撞的真相。不仅他父亲如此，他母亲如此，卡比尔如此。
But within himself too.
他自己的内心也一样。
And yet.
可是。
And yet.
可是。
Something else was happening as well. The new awareness had not faded from his mind, but slowly it had found company. Another, opposing current of consciousness coursed through him now, one that did not displace the first but claimed space beside it. Adel felt an awakening to this other, more troubling part of himself. The part of him that over time would gradually, almost imperceptibly, accept this new identity that at present prickled like a wet wool sweater. Adel saw that, in the end, he would probably accept things as his mother had. Adel had been angry with her at first; he was more forgiving now. Perhaps she had accepted out of fear of her husband. Or as a bargain for the life of luxury she led. Mostly, Adel suspected, she had accepted for the same reason he would: because she had to. What choice was there? Adel could not run from his life any more than Gholam could from his. People learned to live with the most unimaginable things. As would he. This was his life. This was his mother. This was his father. And this was him, even if he hadn’t always known it.
还有别的事情发生。新的认知没有从他脑中消逝，却慢慢找到了伙伴。另一种认知出现了，对抗着如今贯通他身心的意识疾流，它没有取代前者，它只是要求共处的空间。阿德尔意识到了它的觉醒，这是他另外的部分，也是更令他困扰的部分。随着时间的流逝，他的这一部分将逐渐地，难以察觉地接受这个新的身份，但此时此刻，它还像湿透的毛衣，让他感到刺痛。阿德尔终于看到，他或许会像母亲那样逆来顺受。起初，他一直生母亲的气，现在他有了更多的宽容。她的逆来顺受也许是出于对丈夫的恐惧，也可能是她过上奢华生活的条件。但阿德尔怀疑，最有可能的是，她之所以逆来顺受，是出于和他相同的原因：因为她不得不认命。有什么选择呢？阿德尔无法逃离自己的生活，正像吴拉姆也逃不出自己的生活一样。人们会学着忍受最难以想像的东西。他也会。这是他的生活。这是他的母亲。这是他的父亲。这就是他，哪怕他始终对此茫然不解。
Adel knew he would not love his father again as he had before, when he would sleep happily curled in the bay of his thick arms. That was inconceivable now. But he would learn to love him again even if now it was a different, more complicated, messier business. Adel could almost feel himself leapfrogging over childhood. Soon, he would land as an adult. And when he did, there would be no going back because adulthood was akin to what his father had once said about being a war hero: once you became one, you died one.
阿德尔知道，他不会再像以前那样爱他父亲了，以前他会蜷缩在父亲粗大的臂弯里，幸福地睡去。如今这已变得难以置信。可他会学着再次爱上他，即便到了现在，爱已经成了一种不同的、更复杂、也更棘手的事情。阿德尔几乎可以感到，他正在一跳又一跳地越过童年。很快，他就会长大成人。而等他长大的时候，一切都将无法回头，因为成年，就像他父亲说起身为战争英雄时所讲的那样：一日为雄，至死为雄。
Lying in bed at night, Adel thought that one day — maybe the next day or the one after that, or maybe one day the following week — he would leave the house and walk over to the field by the windmill where Gholam had told him his family was squatting. He thought he would find the field empty. He would stand on the side of the road, picture Gholam and his mother and his brothers and his grandmother, the family a straggling line lugging roped-up belongings, padding along the dusty shoulders of country roads, looking for some place to land. Gholam was the head of the family now. He would have to work. He would now spend his youth clearing canals, digging ditches, making bricks, and harvesting fields. Gholam would gradually turn into one of those stooping leather-faced men Adel always saw behind plows.
夜里躺在床上，阿德尔想，总有一天，也许就是明天或后天，他会走出家门，走到磨坊那边的野地里去，吴拉姆告诉过他，他们全家就住在那儿。他想，他将发现那块地已经空了。他将站在路边，想像着吴拉姆和他的母亲，他的兄弟们，他的奶奶，想像着这一家老小散乱成行，拖着用绳子捆扎的家什，一步一步，走在乡间小路尘土飞扬的路肩上，寻找着可以落脚的地方。吴拉姆现在是家里的顶梁柱了。他将不得不做工。他将耗尽青春，给运河清污，挖沟，打砖，下田收割。渐渐地，吴拉姆将加入到那些腰身佝偻、满面风霜的汉子们中间，变成他们的一员。阿德尔见过很多这样的男人，见过他们扶犁而立。
Adel thought he would stand there a while in the field, watching the hills and the mountains looming over New Shadbagh. And then he thought he would reach into his pocket for what he had found one day walking through the orchards, the left half of a pair of spectacles, snapped at the bridge, the lens a spiderweb of cracks, the temple crusted with dried blood. He would toss the broken spectacles into a ditch. Adel suspected that as he turned back around and walked home, what he would feel mostly would be relief.
阿德尔想，他将在那块地里站上一会儿，看着丘陵和群山的巨影慢慢笼盖新沙德巴格。然后他想，他将把手伸进衣袋，拿出某一天他走过果园时发现的东西，一副眼镜的左半边，折断于鼻梁上的托架，镜片碎如蛛网，血在镜腿上干结成壳。他将把这破碎的眼镜丢进沟里。阿德尔遥想着，当他转过身，走回家的时候，最大的感受将是宽慰。
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