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ed。
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