使館樓02——擊球，扣殺。擊球，扣殺

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On 6 August，F(xiàn)atou walked past the embassy for the first time，on her way to a swimming pool. It is a large pool，although not quite Olympic size. To swim a mile you must complete eighty-two lengths，which，in its very tedium，often feels as much a mental exercise as a physical one. The water is kept unusually warm，to please the majority of people who patronize the health centre，the kind who come not so much to swim as to lounge poolside or rest their bodies in the sauna.Fatou has swum here five or six times now，and she is often the youngest person in the pool by several decades. Generally，the clientele are white，or else South Asian or from the Middle East，but now and then Fatou finds herself in the water with fellow Africans. When she spots these big men，paddling frantically like babies，struggling simply to stay afloat，she prides herself on her own abilities，having taught herself to swim，several years earlier，at the Carib Beach Resort，in Accra. Not in the hotel pool—no employees were allowed in the pool. No，she learned by struggling through the rough grey sea，on the other side of the resort walls. Rising and sinking，rising and sinking，on the dirty foam. No tourist ever stepped on to the beach （it was covered with trash），much less into the cold and treacherous sea. Nor did any of the other chambermaids. Only some reckless teenage boys，late at night，and Fatou，early in the morning. There is almost no way to compare swimming at Carib Beach and swimming in the health centre，warm as it is，tranquil as a bath. And，as Fatou passes the Embassy of Cambodia，on her way to the pool，over the high wall she sees a shuttlecock，passed back and forth between two unseen players. The shuttlecock floats in a wide arc softly rightwards，and is smashed back，and this happens again and again，the first player always somehow able to retrieve the smash and transform it，once more，into a gentle，floating arc. High above，the sun tries to force its way through a cloud ceiling，grey and filled with water. Pock，smash. Pock，smash.

8月6日，法圖第一次經過大使館，當時她正走在去游泳池的路上。那泳池很大，盡管跟奧運會不能比。如果要游上一英里，你得打四十一個來回，過程無比單調，對精神的考驗常常不比對體力少。水總是異常溫暖，好取悅大多數(shù)光顧健身中心的客人，他們并不怎么熱衷游泳，寧可懶洋洋地靠在池邊，要不就是來蒸個桑拿，讓身體放松放松。法圖在這里游過五六回，通常她都是整個泳池里年紀最小的一個，別人都年長她好幾十歲。這里的顧客一般都是白人，要不就是南亞人或者中東人，不過如今法圖間或也能在水中找到幾個非洲同鄉(xiāng)。這些大個子男人像小娃娃那樣瞎撲騰，費盡力氣就是為了不讓自己沉下去，她看在眼里，想起幾年前在阿克拉[1]加勒比海灘靠自己揣摩就學會了游泳，不禁得意起來。她不是在酒店泳池里學會的——酒店雇員是不許進泳池的。不，她是在度假村墻外的那片風高浪急的灰色大海上掙扎著學會的。浮起來，沉下去，浮起來，沉下去，四周泛著臟兮兮的泡沫。沒什么游客踏上過這片海灘（到處都是垃圾），至于跳進那冰冷的、變化莫測的海水，這樣的人就更少了。酒店里的其他女傭也都沒來過。只有幾個莽撞的十幾歲男孩會在半夜里溜過來，而法圖是在清晨。在加勒比海灘游泳和在健身中心里游泳幾乎沒法相提并論，健身中心里的水溫是那么愜意，水面平靜得像是在浴缸里。在去泳池的路上，法圖經過柬埔寨大使館，看見一只羽毛球在高墻頂上飛來飛去，看不見打球的人。那羽毛球沿著一道長長的弧線緩緩向右側飄過去，劈頭遭到一記重扣往回落，這情形周而復始，前一個打球的人總是有辦法瓦解對方的扣殺，然后再一次把球打出舒緩而飄逸的弧線。更高處，太陽努力想從那灰色的、積滿水分的云層中鉆出來。擊球，扣殺。擊球，扣殺。

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[1]阿克拉（Accra），加納首都。