Marjan the blind lion of the Kabul zoo, see the original article below, followed by a translation...Elle est largement connue à Kaboul et au delà, sous des versions différentes. Je tiens celle-ci d'un contemporain. Nous l'appelerons Nagib. Il était ce jour-là notre guide dans Kaboul. Selon son récit, l'histoire s'est passée alors que les moudjahidines, après avoir remporté une victoire historique, s'installaient au pouvoir en 1993. Maîtres pour un temps à Kaboul, ils se montrèrent incapables de s'entendre pour gouverner et leurs divergences se traduisirent en affrontements violents et finalement en guerre civile. La ville et ses habitants étaient alors pris en otages.
Le zoo fut l'un des terrains de la bataille. Plusieurs factions y passèrent et se payèrent sur la bête, si l'on ose dire. Ils mangèrent quelques-uns des pensionnaires, le cerf et quelques lapins et tuèrent l'unique éléphant. Le lion, ce fut différent. Un combattant impétueux -Nagib ne souvient ni de son nom ni de la faction à laquelle il appartenait- décida de le défier en combat singulier. « On va voir lequel de nous deux est le vrai lion », aurait-il crié en sautant dans l'enclos. Ce furent ses derniers mots.
Moudjahidin ou taliban ?
Le combattant avait un frère qui, pour venger l'affront, jeta une grenade sur l'animal, lui brisant les dents et lui arrachant un œil, entre autres blessures. Le lion avait perdu la vue mais il survécut plusieurs années avant de mourir de vieillesse en 2002. Dans une autre version, la victime était un taliban qui s'était réfugié dans cette partie du zoo alors que la bataille faisait rage alentour avec les moudjahidines et il serait tombé accidentellement dans l'enclos du lion. La suite, le frère, la grenade, etc. est commune à toutes les versions, mais celle de notre interlocuteur est aussi une sorte d'allégorie.
Il faut dire que Nagib, était lui même un moudjahid à cette époque. Il avait seize ans quand il rejoignit la résistance contre les soviétiques dans les rangs prestigieux commandant Massoud et il y passa vingt-deux mois. Il raconte qu'il a quitté les moudjahidines peu avant la victoire et la prise du pouvoir parce que les comportements de ses camarades de combat, lui inspiraient, dit-il, les plus grandes craintes.
Les faits lui ont donné raison et ce fut même pire encore, mais l'épisode du lion, apparemment anecdotique à l'échelle de la nouvelle catastrophe qui s'abattait sur l'Afghanistan, lui semble une assez bonne illustration de ce qui précisément allait conduire le pays au désastre.
L'arrogance et la forfanterie du défi, suivies par une vengeance aussi cruelle qu'irréfléchie, voilà bien pour Nagib, ce qui marqua l'époque et nous entraîna dans la spirale d'une violence sans fin. Quinze ans après, il dit avoir parfois des remords, mais il ne regrette pas l'idéalisme de son engagement. Il ne comprend pas bien comment les valeurs du combat se sont aussi vite corrompues, mais c'est une autre histoire.
Quant au lion Marjan, le héros de celle-ci, il est bien à sa place. Dans son innocence et sa fierté, il symbolise le pays et le peuple, bafoués et trahis par ceux qui prétendaient gouverner leur destin.
« Nous sommes tous comme Marjan. La violence ne nous a pas abattus. Nous avons survécu. Le peuple est toujours vivant, mais comme le lion, édenté et aveugle. »
Situé à la périphérie de la capitale, le long de la rivière Kaboul, le zoo est une attraction populaire. On y vient en famille, hommes et femmes mélangés, ce qui n'est pas si fréquent dans l'espace public de la ville, sinon au bazar. Ce n'est pas un zoo très riche, mais sa clientèle ne l'est pas davantage. Les visiteurs appartiennent visiblement au petit peuple de Kaboul. Ils vont d'enclos en cages avec une joie curieuse qui fait plaisir à voir tant les occasions de réjouissance semblent leur être comptées.
Cachez ce cochon chinois…
Marjan, Kabul's blind lion, symbol of the Afghan wars:
(Byline Kabul) Marjan is a lion. He is the hero of the Kabul zoo. His statue is installed at the entrance to the park and an appointed photographer waits there to immortalize visitors posing next to it. It is also said that rubbing his bronze mane is a guarantee of good fortune. The sculptor took great care to emphasize the nobility of the animal, but realistically did not forget to show its empty eye socket, poignant sign of the suffering inflicted on the animal. Marjan was a blind hero. He was at the same time torturer and victim of this story that goes back to the war.
It (the story) is well known in Kabul and beyond, in different versions. I got this version from a contemporary, let us call him Nagib. That day he was our guide in Kabul, and according to his account, the story happened when the moudjahidin, after having gained a historical victory, took power in 1993. Masters for a time in Kabul, they showed themselves unable to agree enough to govern, and their differences were translated into violent confrontations and finally into civil war. The city and its inhabitants were then taken as hostages.
The zoo was one of the battle-grounds. Several factions spent time there, and one could say they lived on the animals. They ate some of the inhabitants - the stag and some rabbits, and they killed the single elephant. The lion, that was different. An impetuous combatant, Nagib couldn't remember his name nor the faction to which he belonged, decided to defy the lion in single combat. “We will see which of us is the true lion”, he shouted while jumping into the enclosure. These were his last words.
Moudjahidin or taliban?
The combatant had a brother who, to avenge the affront, threw a grenade at the animal, breaking its teeth and putting out its eye, among other injuries. The lion had lost its sight but he survived for several years before dying of old age in 2002. In another version, the victim was a taliban who had taken refuge in this part of the zoo while the battle raged around with the moudjahidin, and he accidentally fell into the lion's enclosure. The remainder of the story, the brother, the grenade, etc. are common to all the versions, but that of our interlocutor is also a kind; of allegory.
It should be said that Nagib, was a moudjahid himself at that time. He was sixteen years old when he joined the resistance against the Soviets, (serving) in the prestigious ranks of commandant Massoud, where he spent twenty-two months. He said that he left the moudjahidin shortly before the final victory and seizure of power, because the behaviors of his comrades in combat inspired great fears in him, or so he said.
What (subsequently) happened proved him right and even more, but the episode of the lion, apparently anecdotal compared to the scale of the disaster which fell on Afghanistan, seemed to him to be a good illustration of what precisely was going to lead the country to disaster.
The sheer arrogance and brazenness of the challenge, followed by an act of revenge as cruel as it was thoughtless, was for Nagib, an indicator which characterized the era and led to a spiral of violence without end. Fifteen years later, he says he sometimes has remorse, but does not regret the idealism of his engagement. He does not really understand how the values of the combat were so quickly corrupted, but that's another story...
As for the lion, Marjan, the hero of this story, he is well in his place. In his innocence and his pride he symbolizes the country and its people, ridiculed and betrayed by those who pretended to control their destiny.
“We are all like Marjan. The violence did not kill us. We survived. The people are still living, but like the lion, made toothless and blind.”
Located at the periphery of the capital, along the Kabul river, the zoo is a popular attraction. Families go there, men and women mixed, which doesn't happen very often in public except for at the bazaar. This is not a very rich zoo, but then neither are its customers. The visitors belong obviously to the small people of Kabul. They go from enclosure to cage with a curious joy, a pleasure to see given that their occasions for rejoicing seem somewhat limited.
Hide this Chinese pig…
Perhaps fifty species live in the park, the majority of them local fauna along with some rarer animals donated by the Peoples Republic of China, such as the superb bear and the pair of lions which replaced Marjan (himself also a gift of the Chinese), and a pig, recently arrived it seems, then subsequently quickly withdrawn from public sight.
An international news agency, quoting the zoo administration, wrote that this was due to the fear of swine flu. One can truly say that the presence of the pig in the Kabul zoo had caused a certain queasiness among the visitors and that it being put into quarantine satisfied everyone. Nobody really stopped in front of its empty enclosure, the more so because in the neighboring enclosure one could admire a Marco Polo stag with superb horns.
And even if the zoo is, as already mentioned, modest, the spectacles offered to the families by the macaques or the bears seemed to suffice for their happiness. One sees few smiles in the streets of Kabul and one can imagine that there aren't very many reasons to have happy faces. At the zoo, even if you don't understand what the parents are saying to their children, they seem happy to be there together. And it is this image that you retain, this small naive happiness which we enjoy while looking of the animals, which do not seem more unhappy here than elsewhere, although they are not freed... but that is not the subject of our story today.
At least one can pay this homage to them; to lighten their glances, to give birth to smiles and laughter in a city which does not seem to offer many occasions for this. Places of distraction are not legion in Kabul. Free access within easy reach of the inhabitants of the city, and this brave, small zoo is precisely one of these rare oases.
I do not know if the visitors who are photographed with the lion learn lessons from the tale by our friend Nagib. But they certainly do not fail to rub Marjan's mane.
No comments:
Post a Comment