the kite runner-第83部分

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le　said　about　Afghanistan　was　true。　Maybe　it　was　a　hopeless　place。
A　BUSTLING　CROWD　was　filling　Ghazi　Stadium　when　we　walked　through　the　entrance　tunnels。　Thousands　of　people　milled　about　the　tightly　packed　concrete　terraces。　Children　played　in　the　aisles　and　chased　each　other　up　and　down　the　steps。　The　scent　of　garbanzo　beans　in　spicy　sauce　hung　in　the　air；　mixed　with　the　smell　of　dung　and　sweat。　Farid　and　I　walked　past　street　peddlers　selling　cigarettes；　pine　nuts；　and　biscuits。
A　scrawny　boy　in　a　tweed　jacket　grabbed　my　elbow　and　spoke　into　my　ear。　Asked　me　if　I　wanted　to　buy　some　　sexy　pictures。　
　Very　sexy；　Agha；　　he　said；　his　alert　eyes　darting　side　to　side……　reminding　me　of　a　girl　who；　a　few　years　earlier；　had　tried　to　sell　me　crack　in　the　Tenderloin　district　in　San　Francisco。　The　kid　peeled　one　side　of　his　jacket　open　and　gave　me　a　fleeting　glance　of　his　sexy　pictures：　postcards　of　Hindi　movies　showing
doe…eyed　sultry　actresses；　fully　dressed；　in　the　arms　of　their　leading　men。　　So　sexy；　　he　repeated。
　Nay；　thanks；　　I　said；　pushing　past　him。
　He　gets　caught；　they　ll　give　him　a　flogging　that　will　waken　his　father　in　the　grave；　　Farid　muttered。
There　was　no　assigned　seating；　of　course。　No　one　to　show　us　politely　to　our　section；　aisle；　row；　and　seat。　There　never　had　been；　even　in　the　old　days　of　the　monarchy。　We　found　a　decent　spot　to　sit；　just　left　of　midfield；　though　it　took　some　shoving　and　elbowing　on　Farid　s　part。
I　remembered　how　green　the　playing　field　grass　had　been　in　the　　70s　when　Baba　used　to　bring　me　to　soccer　games　here。　Now　the　pitch　was　a　mess。　There　were　holes　and　craters　everywhere；　most　notably　a　pair　of　deep　holes　in　the　ground　behind　the　southend　goalposts。　And　there　was　no　grass　at　all；　just　dirt。　When　the　two　teams　finally　took　the　field……all　wearing　long　pants　despite　the　heat……and　play　began；　it　became　difficult　to　follow　the　ball　in　the　clouds　of　dust　kicked　up　by　the　players。　Young；　whip…toting　Talibs　roamed　the　aisles；　striking　anyone　who　cheered　too　loudly。
They　brought　them　out　shortly　after　the　halftime　whistle　blew。　A　pair　of　dusty　red　pickup　trucks；　like　the　ones　I　d　seen　around　town　since　I　d　arrived；　rode　into　the　stadium　through　the　gates。　The　crowd　rose　to　its　feet。　A　woman　dressed　in　a　green　burqa　sat　in　the　cab　of　one　truck；　a　blindfolded　man　in　the　other。　The　trucks　drove　around　the　track；　slowly；　as　if　to　let　the　crowd　get　a　long　look。　It　had　the　desired　effect：　People　craned　their　necks；　pointed；　stood　on　tiptoes。　Next　to　me；　Farid　s　Adam　s　apple　bobbed　up　and　down　as　he　mumbled　a　prayer　under　his　breath。
The　red　trucks　entered　the　playing　field；　rode　toward　one　end　in　twin　clouds　of　dust；　sunlight　reflecting　off　their　hubcaps。　A　third　truck　met　them　at　the　end　of　the　field。　This　one　s　cab　was　filled　with　something　and　I　suddenly　understood　the　purpose　of　those　two　holes　behind　the　goalposts。　They　unloaded　the　third　truck。　The　crowd　murmured　in　anticipation。
　Do　you　want　to　stay？　　Farid　said　gravely。
　No；　　I　said。　I　had　never　in　my　life　wanted　to　be　away　from　a　place　as　badly　as　I　did　now。　　But　we　have　to　stay。　
Two　Talibs　with　Kalashnikovs　slung　across　their　shoulders　helped　the　blindfolded　man　from　the　first　truck　and　two　others　helped　the　burqa…clad　woman。　The　woman　s　knees　buckled　under　her　and　she　slumped　to　the　ground。　The　soldiers　pulled　her　up　and　she　slumped　again。　When　they　tried　to　lift　her　again；　she　screamed　and　kicked。　I　will　never；　as　long　as　I　draw　breath；　forget　the　sound　of　that　scream。　It　was　the　cry　of　a　wild　animal　trying　to　pry　its　mangled　leg　free　from　the　bear　trap。　Two　more　Talibs　joined　in　and　helped　force　her　into　one　of　the　chest…deep　holes。　The　blindfolded　man；　on　the　other　hand；　quietly　allowed　them　to　lower　him　into　the　hole　dug　for　him。　Now　only　the　accused　pair　s　torsos　protruded　from　the　ground。
A　chubby；　white…bearded　cleric　dressed　in　gray　garments　stood　near　the　goalposts　and　cleared　his　throat　into　a　handheld　microphone。　Behind　him　the　woman　in　the　hole　was　still　screaming。　He　recited　a　lengthy　prayer　from　the　Koran；　his　nasal　voice　undulating　through　the　sudden　hush　of　the　stadium　s　crowd。　I　remem　bered
something　Baba　had　said　to　me　a　long　time　ago：　Piss　on　the　beards　of　all　those　self…righteous　monkeys。　They　do　nothing　but　thumb　their　rosaries　and　recite　a　book　written　in　a　tongue　they　don　t　even　understand。　God　help　us　all　if　Afghanistan　ever　falls　into　their　hands。
When　the　prayer　was　done；　the　cleric　cleared　his　throat。　　Brothers　and　sisters！　　he　called；　speaking　in　Farsi；　his　voice　booming　through　the　stadium。　　We　are　here　today　to　carry　out　Shari　a。　We　are　here　today　to　carry　out　justice。　We　are　here　today　because　the　will　of　Allah　and　the　word　of　the　Prophet　Muham　mad；　peace　be　upon　him；　are　alive　and　well　here　in　Afghanistan；　our　beloved　homeland。　We　listen　to　what　God　says　and　we　obey　because　we　are　nothing　but　humble；　powerless　creatures　before　God　s　greatness。　And　what　does　God　say？　I　ask　you！　WHAT　DOES　GOD　SAY？　God　says　that　every　sinner　must　be　punished　in　a　manner　befitting　his　sin。　Those　are　not　my　words；　nor　the　words　of　my　brothers。　Those　are　the　words　of　GOD