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An ice-cream boy on a red tricycle painted with red and white nuclear missiles rode up behind waving at us, until a teacher shooed him away.
一个卖冰激凌的男孩蹬着一辆彩绘着红色与白色核弹头的三轮车追在我们的车后，朝着我们不停挥手、吆喝，直到一名老师把他嘘了开去。
A man was chopping off chickens' heads, the blood dripping onto the street.
一个男人正在斩鸡头，鸡血滴落在大街上。
I drummed my fingers. Chop, chop, chop. Drip, drip, drip.
我的手指仍在打着节拍。“咚、咚、咚”，“嘀、嘀、嘀”。
Funny, when I was little we always said Swatis were so peace-loving it was hard to find a man to slaughter a chicken.
说来有趣，当我还小的时候，我们常说斯瓦特人爱好和平，你很难找到一个男人愿意帮你杀鸡。而现在，一切都不一样了。
The air smelt of diesel, bread and kebab mixed with the stink from the stream where people still dumped their rubbish and were never going to stop despite all my father's campaigning.
空气中满溢着柴油、面包及烤肉串的气味，还混杂着河流的臭味。人们无视父亲一次又一次的当众呼吁，依旧将垃圾倾倒入河中，而且看来似乎永远不打算住手。
But we were used to it.
我们也已经习惯了。
Besides, soon the winter would be here, bringing the snow, which would cleanse and quieten everything.
此外，冬天很快就要到了，大雪将落，它将使一切变得洁净、安宁。
The bus turned right off the main road at the army checkpoint.
在军队检查哨处，巴士右转，远离了干道。
On a kiosk was a poster of crazy-eyed men with beards and caps or turbans under big letters saying wanted terrorists.
一个凉亭上张贴着一张海报，上面是一群蓄着胡须，戴着帽子或头巾，眼神疯狂的男人，上方则用大大的字母写着“通缉恐怖分子”。
The picture at the top of a man with a black turban and beard was Fazlullah.
最上面那张照片里，黑头巾、长须的男人正是法兹鲁拉。
More than three years had passed since the military operation to drive the Taliban out of Swat had begun.
军方驱逐塔利班的行动从开始至今，已经三年多了。
