Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
CHRISTOPHER DE BALLAIGUE
Caliph of the Tricksters
FROM Harper's Magazine
O N A VISIT several years ago to Afghanistan, in a Kabul restaurant of the better kind, I met a
policeman named Hossein Fakhri. A laconic, handsome, tense sort of man, Fakhri had been
introducedtomeasapoliceofficerwhoseloveswereliteratureandthecityofhisbirth.Speak-
ing in Persian, Afghanistan's literary language, we discussed Kabul and the writers and poets
wholivethere.Somuchhadhappenedtothecityinitsrecenthistory,Isaid,thatitwasn'teasy
for an outsider like me, visiting at some arbitrary point in events, to arrive at a settled view of
the place. My opinion seemed unduly contingent on the latest suicide bombing, or land-grab
scandal, or my sense of the Taliban at the gates. “That,” Fakhri said, “is no way to look at a
city.”
Before he got up to return to work, Fakhri presented me with an edition of his short stories.
It was called The Roosters of Babur's Garden . He advised me to read the title story, adding,
“I think you'll find there is something of Kabul in that.” After he had gone, I ordered a pot of
green tea and opened the topic.
“TheRoostersofBabur'sGarden”isnarratedbyaboywhosefather,apoorKabuli,sellshis
patch of dry, stony land and buys a three-month-old pedigree cockerel. Cherished by his new
owner,thecockerelgrowsintoafineadult,tautfromexerciseandenergizedbyadietofwheat
seeds, worms, and almonds. The transformation extends to the owner, who seems to grow in
confidence and stature along with his bird. “I've had black-flecked birds,” he boasts, “spotted
ones,raisin-redandwhitebirds,andbee-coloredbirds.I'vehadbirdswithup-standingcombs,
flat combs and floppy combs. A bird is a bird. But this one is something else. Woe betide the
bird that is matched with this!”
Cockfighting, I learned from Fakhri's story, is not simply about pedigree and preparation.
Luck is also essential, for only in the pit will a bird's true martial abilities show themselves. Is
he wild and unthinking, a “tyrant” who exhausts himself after a quarter of an hour, or a stayer,
his resolve growing as the shadows lengthen and his rival starts to weaken? Does he have a
particular trick, such as thrusting his head under one of his adversary's legs and forcing him
to hop around, draining him of energy? It is better to strike rarely but lethally, in those very
tender “death places,” the eyes and chest, than to land blow upon blow on a rival's feathery
armor. Finally, and most important, will the cock fight until victory, no matter how valiant his
opponent? In losing, the cock dishonors not only himself but his owner, too.
Soitprovesin“TheRoostersofBabur'sGarden.”Oneicywinter'smorning,fatherandson
take their bird to the opening bout of the season. The fights take place in the ruined garden
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