殘忍而美麗的情誼:The Kite Runner 追風箏的人(144)

Jadeh Maywand. Just north of us was the bone-dry Kabul River. On the hills to the south stood the broken old city wall. Just east of it was the Bala Hissar Fort--the ancient citadel that the warlord Dostum had occupied in 1992--on the Shirdarwaza mountain range, the same mountains from which Mujahedin forces had showered Kabul with rockets between 1992 and 1996, inflicting much of the damage I was witnessing now. The Shirdarwaza range stretched all the way west. It was from those mountains that I remember the firing of the Topeh chasht, the “noon cannon.” It went off every day to announce noontime, and also to signal the end of daylight fasting during the month of Ramadan. You’d hear the roar of that cannon all through the city in those days.
“I used to come here to Jadeh Maywand when I was a kid,” I mumbled. “There used to be shops here and hotels. Neon lights and restaurants. I used to buy kites from an old man named Saifo. He ran a little kite shop by the old police headquarters.”
“The police headquarters is still there,” Farid said. “No shortage of police in this city But you won’t find kites or kite shops on Jadeh Maywand or anywhere else in Kabul. Those days are over.”
Jadeh Maywand had turned into a giant sand castle. The buildings that hadn’t entirely collapsed barely stood, with caved in roofs and walls pierced with rockets shells. Entire blocks had been obliterated to rubble. I saw a bullet-pocked sign half buried at an angle in a heap of debris. It read DRINK COCA CO--. I saw children playing in the ruins of a windowless building amid jagged stumps of brick and stone. Bicycle riders and mule-drawn carts swerved around kids, stray dogs, and piles of debris. A haze of dust hovered over the city and, across the river, a single plume of smoke rose to the sky.
“Where are the trees?” I said.
“People cut them down for firewood in the winter,” Farid said. “The Shorawi cut a lot of them down too.”
“Why?”

一度佔領這座古代城堡——坐落在雪達瓦扎山脈上。 1992年到 1996年間，人民聖戰者組織的火箭如雨點般從那座山脈射出來，落進喀布爾城裏，造成如今擺在我眼前的浩劫。雪達瓦扎山脈朝西逶迤而去。我記得，“午炮”也是從這些山巒中發出來的，它每天響起，宣告中午來臨；在齋月期間，它也是一聲信號，意味着白天的禁食可以結束了。那些天，整座城市都能聽見午炮的轟鳴。
“我小時候常常路過這兒，前往雅德梅灣。”我喃喃說，“過去這兒商店賓館林立，遍地食肆和霓虹燈。我經常向一個叫做塞弗的老人買風箏。他在舊警察局旁邊開了間小小的風箏鋪。”
“警察局還在那兒。”法裏德說，“這座城市不缺警察。但你在雅德梅灣，或者喀布爾任何地方，再也找不到風箏或者風箏鋪了。那樣的日子已經結束。”
雅德梅灣業已變成一座巨大的廢墟。那些尚未被徹底摧毀的屋宇赤條條豎在那兒，屋頂破了大洞，牆壁嵌滿火箭的彈片。整個街區已經化爲瓦礫。我看見一個帶着彈孔的招牌斜斜埋在一堆殘骸中，上面寫着“請喝可口可……”。我看見在那些犬牙交錯的磚石廢墟中，有座沒有窗戶的破房子，兒童在裏面玩耍。自行車和騾車在孩子、流浪狗和一堆堆廢物中穿梭。 城市上方是灰濛濛的塵霧，河那邊，一道青煙嫋嫋升上天空。
“那些樹呢？”我說。
“冬天的時候被人們砍成柴火了。”法裏德說，“俄國佬也砍了不少。”
“爲什麼？”