殘忍而美麗的情誼:The Kite Runner 追風箏的人(48)

By the time I reached the marketplace, the sun had alMost sunk behind the hills and dusk had painted the sky pink and purple. A few blocks away, from the Haji Yaghoub Mosque, the mullah bellowed azan, calling for the faithful to unroll their rugs and bow their heads west in prayer. Hassan never missed any of the five daily prayers. Even when we were out playing, he'd excuse himself, draw water from the well in the yard, wash up, and disappear into the hut. He'd come out a few minutes later, smiling, find me sitting against the wall or perched on a tree. He was going to miss prayer tonight, though, because of me.

我到達市場那邊時，太陽已經快下山了，粉紅色和紫色的晚霞點綴着天空。再走幾條街就是哈吉·雅霍清真寺，僧侶在那兒高聲呼喊，號令那些朝拜者鋪開毯子，朝西邊磕頭，誠心禱告。每日五次的祈禱哈桑從不錯過，就算我們在玩，他也會告退，從院子裏的深井汲起一桶水，清洗完畢，消失在那間破屋子裏面。隔幾分鐘，他就會面帶微笑走出來，發現我坐在牆上，或者坐在樹枝上。可是，他今晚就要錯過祈禱了，那全因爲我。

The bazaar was emptying quickly, the merchants finishing up their haggling for the day. I trotted in the mud between rows of closely packed cubicles where you could buy a freshly slaughtered pheasant in one stand and a calculator from the adjacent one. I picked my way through the dwindling crowd, the lame beggars dressed in layers of tattered rags, the vendors with rugs on their shoulders, the cloth merchants and butchers closing shop for the day. I found no sign of Hassan.

市場不一會就空蕩蕩的，做生意的人都打烊了。我在一片泥濘中奔走，兩邊是成排的、擠得緊緊的小店，人們可以在一個血水橫流的攤前買剛宰好的野雞，而隔壁的小店則出售電子計算器。我在零落的人羣中尋路前進，步履維艱的乞丐身上披着一層又一層的破布，小販肩上扛着毛毯，布料商人和出售生鮮的屠夫則在關上鋪門。我找不到哈桑的蹤跡。

I stopped by a dried fruit stand, described Hassan to an old merchant loading his mule with crates of pine seeds and raisins. He wore a powder blue turban.

我停在一個賣乾果的小攤前面，有個年老的商人戴着藍色的頭巾，把一袋袋松子和葡萄乾放到驢子身上。我向他描述哈桑的相貌。

He paused to look at me for a long time before answering. "I might have seen him."

他停下來，久久看着我，然後開口說:"興許我見過他。"

"Which way did he go?"

　　"他跑哪邊去了?"

He eyed me up and down. "What is a boy like you doing here at this time of the day looking for a Hazara?" His glance lingered admiringly on my leather coat and my jeans--cowboy pants, we used to call them. In Afghanistan, owning anything American, especially if it wasn't secondhand, was a sign of wealth.

他上下打量着我:"像你這樣的男孩，幹嗎在這個時候找一個哈扎拉人呢?"他豔羨地看着我的皮衣和牛仔褲--牛仔穿的褲子，我們總是這樣說。在阿富汗，擁有任何不是二手的美國貨，都是財富的象徵。

"I need to find him, Agha."

"我得找到他，老爺。"

"What is he to you?" he said. I didn't see the point of his question, but I reminded myself that impatience wasn't going to make him tell me any faster.

"他是你的什麼人?"他問。我不知道他幹嗎要這樣問，但我提醒自己，不耐煩只會讓他緘口不言。

"He's our servant's son," I said.

"他是我家僕人的兒子。"我說。

The old man raised a pepper gray eyebrow. "He is? Lucky Hazara, having such a concerned master. His father should get on his knees, sweep the dust at your feet with his eyelashes."

那老人揚了揚灰白的眉毛:"是嗎?幸運的哈扎拉人，有這麼關心他的主人。他的父親應該跪在你跟前，用睫毛掃去你靴子上的灰塵。"

"Are you going to tell me or not?"

"你到底告不告訴我啊?"

He rested an arm on the mule's back, pointed south. "I think I saw the boy you described running that way. He had a kite in his hand. A blue one."

他將一隻手放在驢背上，指着南邊:"我想我看見你說的那個男孩朝那邊跑去。他手裏拿着一隻風箏，藍色的風箏。"

"He did?" I said. For you a thousand times over, he'd promised. Good old Hassan. Good old reliable Hassan. He'd kept his promise and run the last kite for me.

"真的嗎?"我說。爲你，千千萬萬遍。他這樣承諾過。好樣的，哈桑。好樣的，可靠的哈桑。他一諾千金，替我追到了最後那隻風箏。

"Of course, they've probably caught him by now,?the old merchant said, grunting and loading another box on the mule's back.

"當然，這個時候他們也許已經逮住他了。"那個老人咕噥着說，把另一個箱子搬到驢背上。

"Who?"

"什麼人?"

"The other boys,?he said. "The ones chasing him. They were dressed like you.?He glanced to the sky and sighed. "Now, run along, you're making me late for nainaz."

"其他幾個男孩。"他說，"他們追着他，他們的打扮跟你差不多。"他擡眼看看天空，嘆了口氣，"走開吧，你耽誤了我做禱告。"

But I was already scrambling down the lane.

但我已經朝那條小巷飛奔而去。