We chased the "Kochi", the nomads who passed through Kabul on their way to the mountains of the north. We would hear their caravans approaching our neighborhood, the mewling of their sheep, the "baaing" of their goats, the jingle of bells around their camels' necks. We'd run outside to watch the caravan plod through our street, men with dusty, weather-beaten faces and women dressed in long, colorful shawls, beads, and silver bracelets around their wrists and ankles. We hurled pebbles at their goats. We squirted water on their mules. I'd make Hassan sit on the Wall of Ailing Corn and fire pebbles with his slingshot at the camels' rears.
我们还追逐过路的游牧部落，他们经由喀布尔，前往北方的层峦叠嶂。我们能听到他们的牧群走近的声音：绵羊咪咪，山羊咩咩，还有那叮当作响的驼铃。我们会跑出去，看着他们的队伍在街道上行进，男人满身尘灰，脸色沧桑，女人披着长长的、色彩斑斓的肩巾，挂着珠链，手腕和脚踝都戴着银镯子。我们朝他们的山羊投掷石头，拿水泼他们的骡子。我让哈桑坐在"病玉米之墙"，拿弹弓用小圆石射他们的骆驼的屁股。
We saw our first Western together, "Rio Bravo" with John Wayne, at the Cinema Park, across the street from my favorite bookstore. I remember begging Baba to take us to Iran so we could meet John Wayne. Baba burst out in gales of his deepthroated laughter--a sound not unlike a truck engine revving up--and, when he could talk again, explained to us the concept of voice dubbing. Hassan and I were stunned. Dazed. John Wayne didn't really speak Farsi and he wasn't Iranian! He was American, just like the friendly, longhaired men and women we always saw hanging around in Kabul, dressed in their tattered, brightly colored shirts. We saw "Rio Bravo" three times, but we saw our favorite Western, "The Magnificent Seven", thirteen times. With each viewing, we cried at the end when the Mexican kids buried Charles Bronson--who, as it turned out, wasn't Iranian either.
我们第一次看西部电影也是两个人，在与那家我最喜欢的书店一街之隔的电影院公园，看的是约翰·韦恩的《赤胆屠龙》。我记得当时我求爸爸带我们到伊朗去，那样我们就可以见到约翰·韦恩了。爸爸爆发出一阵爽朗的狂笑--与汽车引擎加速的声音颇为相像，等他能说得出话的时候，告诉我们电影配音是怎么回事。哈桑跟我目瞪口呆，愣住了。原来约翰·韦恩不是真的说法尔西语，也不是伊朗人!他是美国人，就像那些我们经常看到的男男女女一样，他们神情友善，留着长发，吊儿郎当地穿着五颜六色的衣服，在喀布尔城里游荡。我们看了三遍《赤胆屠龙》，但我们最喜欢的西部片是《七侠荡寇志》，看了十三遍。每次电影快结束的时候，我们哭着观看那些墨西哥小孩埋葬查尔斯·勃朗森--结果他也不是伊朗人。
We took strolls in the musty-smelling bazaars of the Shar-e-Nau section of Kabul, or the new city, west of the Wazir Akbar Khan district. We talked about whatever film we had just seen and walked amid the bustling crowds of "bazarris". We snaked our way among the merchants and the beggars, wandered through narrow alleys cramped with rows of tiny, tightly packed stalls. Baba gave us each a weekly allowance of ten Afghanis and we spent it on warm Coca-Cola and rosewater ice cream topped with crushed pistachios.
我们在喀布尔新城那个弥漫着难闻气味的市场闲逛。新城叫沙里诺区，在瓦兹尔·阿克巴·汗区以西。我们谈论刚刚看完的电影，走在市场熙熙攘攘的人群中。我们在商人和乞丐中蜿蜒前进，穿过那些小店云集的拥挤过道。爸爸每周给我们每人十块阿富汗尼
Afghanis，阿富汗货币名称。的零花钱，我们用来买温热的可口可乐，还有洒着开心果仁的玫瑰香露雪糕。
During the school year, we had a daily routine. By the time I dragged myself out of bed and lumbered to
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