FAREWELL MARJAN... Marjan, the one-eyed lone
lion is no longer the king of
Kabul zoo
PICTURES from the grenade attack!
TRAVELMATES - COMPAGNI DI VIAGGIO
For standing with me the bumps of that never-ending african track and for sharing with me those few water drops from the tap of a rotten afghan inn. For the glance we had on each other before jumping on that helicopter kept together by the painting and the disappointment of that interview denied at the very last minute. For that plane which never took off and that taxi we awaited in vain. For that 22-hours march high on the mountain and how we greeted each other when the world thought us dispersed. For wakening together under lead-grey skies and for coming back late at night, gladly ignoring an accomplice curfew.
For those evenings without supper without light.
Just a few words, always the same. Tomorrow, perhaps we can manage, God knows.
For these times, and for those yet to come.
Per aver sopportato con me le buche di quella pista africana che non finiva più e per aver diviso il filo d'acqua regalato dal rubinetto di una sgangherata locanda afghana. Per lo sguardo che ci siamo scambiati salendo su quell'elicottero tenuto assieme dalla vernice e per la delusione di quell'intervista negata all'ultimo momento. Per quell'aereo mai partito e quel tassista atteso invano. Per quella marcia di ventidue ore e per l'abbraccio che ci siamo scambiati quando già ci davano dispersi. Per le levatacce sotto quei cieli di piombo e per i rientri a notte fonda nell' oscurità complice di un coprifuoco allegramente ignorato.
Per le serate senza cena senza luce.
Solo due chiacchiere sempre le stesse. Domani, forse ci riusciamo, chissà.
Per queste volte, e per quelle che verranno.
Farewell, good ol' Marjan... The lone king of Kabul zoo succumbs to his age at 48, after surviving years and years of deprivations and symbolizing to kabulis the spirit of resiliency itself Well.....that's sad news, indeed. To my eyes, Marjan symbolized hope. However, in thinking about that dear old lion's death I choose to believe that when he heard the swoosh of kites flying over Kabul, heard the roars from the football stadium, experienced the renewed sounds of music in the air and heard the click-click of chess pieces being moved around chessboards....well, the old guy knew that there was plenty of hope around and it was okay for him to let go and fly off, amid kite strings, to wherever it is the spirits of animals go.
Peace to you Marjan and peace to Afghanistan.
[Diana Smith, via the Internet]