Translating Nouzha Fassi Fihri's La Baroudeuse: A Case Study in ...

man had come. They went down sloping streets in total darkness, running the risk
of falling into deep mud or tripping over ruts with every step. They stepped on
piles of trash, slipped on mud and slick rocks, and clutched at rough walls that
were cracked from top to bottom. When they passed others on the way who had
come out into the streets, as they had, for God knows what purpose, they flattened
their shoulders against the wall without exchanging a word, wanting to maintain
the protective silence.
As soon as they entered a wider street, they saw the first signs of combat:
bloody puddles of mud, a strip of clothing torn in a run for life or death, a twisted
slipper reflecting the dim light from the sky, or an incongruous kitchen utensil
lying there too peaceful in the bleakness of this morbid, deserted scene. Then, in a
small square with one lonely tree, they saw a mule lying with its mouth open, its
rider clutching at its hide, his face hidden in the mane, surely to escape this last
vision of horror. One meter away, a boy lay in his last sleep, his head crushed, his
legs spread apart, the terror of death still alive in his wide-open eyes. These were
the first victims they found on their way. They saw others, by the dozens in
desolate streets, carcasses piled up or lining the walls, waiting to be taken to
make-do cemeteries.
With permission, they took short cuts across fallow garden plots and
through courtyard gardens to reach several areas of the city that would have been
more than an hour's walk away had the two men taken the winding streets and
alleys. At this hour, guard was down. Both sides had suffered and were taking
care of casualties. In these places of mourning, darkness and scalp-tingling, skin-
tightening silence reigned. No cry, no moan, no sigh of life. The few soldiers on
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