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In the cosy garage, the mood darkened.
在舒适的车库里，气氛变得黯淡。
"I wish this fighting would stop," Sofiane muttered, looking at the floor.
“我希望这种争斗能够停止，”索菲恩喃喃地说，看着地板。
"I wish they would make a committee to protect these animals."
“我希望他们能成立一个委员会来保护这些动物。”
“Oh yes,” Hafid echoed respectfully.
“哦，是的，”哈菲德恭敬地附和道。
“It should end. It’s been 40 years. We’re tired of it.
"它应该结束。已经40年了。我们已经厌倦了。
They should just shut the whole thing down.”
他们应该把这一切都关闭。"
A few weeks later, I returned to El Harrach to see a fight.
几周后，我回到艾尔哈拉赫，看到一场战斗。
Local men in long robes and Adidas were blinking in the late afternoon sun, drowsy after the Friday ritual of prayer-couscous-nap, emerging to buy baguettes and cluster at the cafes whose plastic chairs spilled out on to the street.
穿着长袍和阿迪达斯的当地人在午后的阳光下眨着眼睛，在星期五的祈祷仪式后昏昏欲睡，他们出来买法棍面包，聚集在咖啡馆里，那里的塑料椅子铺到了大街上。
Palm trees stood as tall as the ornate French colonial buildings that were moulting bits and pieces of decor like flesh-dripping zombies.
棕榈树和法国殖民时期的华丽建筑一样高大，这些建筑像滴血的僵尸一样蜕去了零碎的装饰。
As I waited for Sofiane, a small van screeched by; in the back was a group of skinny young men surrounding a sheep as if they were his secret service detail.
在我等待苏菲安的时候，一辆小面包车呼啸而过；后面是一群瘦小的年轻人围着一只羊，好像他们是他的特勤人员。
Sofiane pulled up and beckoned me into his own van, which gave off a heroic stench of sheep hormones.
苏菲安把车停了下来，招手让我进他自己的车，车内散发出一股羊群荷尔蒙的英雄式臭味。
The scent was shrill, acrid and penetrating, and seemed to linger on my skin for hours afterwards.
这种气味尖锐、刺鼻、有穿透力，之后似乎在我的皮肤上徘徊了几个小时。
He drove me a short distance to an empty lot, nudged me out, and then drove off.
他们开车带我到不远处的一块空地上，把我推了出去，然后开车离开。
I entered a makeshift arena, a sandy area situated between a closed factory and a high school.
我进入了一个临时的竞技场，位于一个封闭的工厂和一所高中之间的沙地。
Men were trickling in.
男人们正陆续进来。
They looked skittish and excited, conscious they were doing something illicit.
他们看起来胆怯而兴奋，意识到他们正在做一些非法的事情。
After a few minutes, the fighters made their grand entrances.
几分钟后，战士们隆重登场。
Tyson, bleating and arrogant, was led by a man with a barrel chest.
泰森在一个长着桶状胸膛的人的带领下走了出来，他的声音很响亮，很傲慢。
A pack of scooters zipped through the gates.
一群摩托车飞快地穿过大门。
Pogba, a fat, jet-black ram, panted along in their wake.
博格巴，一只胖乎乎的黑公羊，在他们后面气喘吁吁地走着。
Across the pitch, a sheep with a black head swayed and sprayed piss like a drunk.
在球场对面，一只长着黑头的羊摇摇晃晃，像个醉汉一样撒尿。
Messi provoked the most commotion, pompous and twitchy with blood-red hooves and a brilliant orange mane.
梅西引起了最多的骚动，他华而不实，抽搐着血红的蹄子和亮丽的橙色鬃毛。
Around 200 spectators were gathered, milling around.
大约有200名观众聚集在一起，在周围转悠。
I struck up a conversation with a man named Farid.
我和一个叫法里德的人攀谈起来。
He boasted about his sheep, Prisoner.
他夸耀自己的羊 "囚犯"。
“He’s worth 50m dinar” – $2,500 – “but I could never sell him.
"他值5000万第纳尔"——2500美元——"但我永远不能卖掉他。
He’s like my child,” Farid said shyly, showing me pictures of Prisoner on his smartphone.
他就像我的孩子，"法里德羞涩地说道，向我展示了他智能手机上的 "囚犯 "照片。
Unlike most of the kbabshis I met, who were single, he also had a wife and children.
与我遇到的大多数单身的kbabshis不同，他也有一个妻子和孩子。
On some invisible cue, the crowd pulled forward, forming a ring in the dirt.
在某种无形的提示下，人群向前拉动，在泥土中形成一个环。
The sheep named Lawyer entered, flashing on one flank a henna-painted Louis Vuitton logo and a 16 (the postal code for Algiers), and on the other, the crude outline of a medieval flail.
名为律师的绵羊走了进来，他的一侧闪耀着印有路易威登标志和16（阿尔及尔的邮政编码）的鸡冠花，另一侧则是中世纪连枷的粗略轮廓。
Blanco, opposing him, was unadorned.
与他相对的布兰科则没有任何装饰。
