為名譽和土地而請愿

By Aida Edemariam

活了近一個世紀(jì)的奶奶Yetemegnu去世了，因她的丈夫曾經(jīng)是有名望和聲譽的牧師，數(shù)百名牧師以及埃塞俄比亞的達(dá)官顯貴都參加了她的葬禮，并且她終于享受了在婚禮上未曾享受的權(quán)利——鼓聲。奶奶出生于1916年，十幾歲就出嫁，育有九個孩子，其中七個長大成人。她的丈夫出身貧寒，通過自己過人的天賦和努力得到女皇的賞識，并一步一步成為重要的宗教領(lǐng)袖，后因受誣告被監(jiān)禁并死于獄中，從此Yetemegnu走上了為丈夫平反昭雪，保衛(wèi)家產(chǎn)的請愿之路。日復(fù)一日，年復(fù)一年，Yetemegnu在首都亞的斯亞貝巴最高法院門前高高的臺階下與眾多請愿者焦慮地等待著被傳喚。這期間她經(jīng)歷了喪子、革命、土改和民主運動，在六十多歲時學(xué)會了閱讀，并最終去耶路撒冷朝圣，展現(xiàn)了一個不屈不撓的女人強(qiáng)大的內(nèi)心。

作者艾達(dá)·愛德馬里安（Aida Edemariam）是埃塞俄比亞裔加拿大記者，在亞的斯亞貝巴長大，先后在牛津大學(xué)和多倫多大學(xué)攻讀英國文學(xué)，曾在紐約、多倫多和倫敦就職，現(xiàn)為英國《衛(wèi)報》的高級專欄作家和編輯。《妻子的故事》（The Wifes Tale）不僅講述了奶奶堅忍不拔的一生，也展現(xiàn)了埃塞俄比亞百年間經(jīng)歷的從封建制、君主政治到馬克思主義革命，再到民主的動蕩和變革，以及這片古老土地的風(fēng)俗人情和文化。2019年5月作者因此書榮獲英國皇家文學(xué)學(xué)會的“翁達(dá)杰獎”（Ondaatje Prize）。

In that country and in that time， when every thoroughfare（街道）still had its litigants（訴訟當(dāng)事人）， bringing earnest complaint before a kerbstone judge（場外法官）（often appointed on the spot for the purpose）； where the ability to argue brilliantly for oneself in court was more respected than business acumen（敏銳）or craftsmanship or musicality； where justice was held so dear that most would countenance（支持）a lifetime of court appearances rather than feel it left undone； there everyone， however humble， had the right to bring his or her case before higher and higher courts， and eventually， if necessary， before the emperor， the final arbiter（仲裁人）between them and God.

And so each morning she set off for the High Court， accompanied by Meto-aleqa Tirfé， a kindly lieutenant who it was said might have been a general had he not displeased his superiors.

Nearly thirty years of diurnal（每日的）rounds consisting （except during the war） of her house， its grounds， the market， Baata， and latterly the prison had fixed her horizons close. The skies felt different in Addis， the mountains higher and farther away； she felt somehow naked， and yet at the same time jostled（擁擠的）and distressed， even when no one was walking too close. There were so many cars， honking， rattling over ruts（在車轍上哐啷哐啷地前行）， nudging through so many knots of people and mules， sheep， donkeys， that at any moment she expected one to creep up behind her and drag her under its wheels.

Within the court compound（有圍墻的場地，大院）things were not much easier. So many people， all aiming for the same thing： a chance to put their story to the judge. They milled（亂轉(zhuǎn)）， and waited， and milled and waited， until waiting became a way of life. Every so often a name was called， an answer shouted， and the lucky person hurried up the stairs. By noon it would be obvious that her turn would not come that day， and so she would walk slowly home.

She recalled her fathers interminable（沒完沒了的）counting of houses， that she was distantly related to the empress， and thus to the empresss eldest daughter， Princess Tenagnewerq. She knew that of all the emperors children it was probably this daughter， not the crown prince， who had the most influence on their father. Moreover， the princesss husband had only just been transferred to Eritrea（厄立特里亞省，埃塞俄比亞北部省份）after six years as governor of Gondar. He had met her husband， had dealt with him officially.

Of course， she also knew other things. She knew the couple， like much of the royal family， had business interests everywhere. She had heard whispers， she had no idea if they were true， about his roving eye（流盼的目光）. But mostly she remembered that in the free-for-all that followed the Italian retreat， the princess and her husband had acquired large swathes of land in Gondar city. That some of that land belonged to her own father； that her husband had asked for it back and had instead been offered forty hectares nearly five hundred kilometers south， in the Rift Valley. She had heard it was decent land， arable（適于耕種的）， but what in the name of the Trinity were they supposed to do with it？

But she had to set that aside， for the moment. Or perhaps here was a way in which she could be repaid？ So she began to walk through the lunchtime streets， and to take up a position outside the high stone walls of the princesss residence. She was not the only person to have this idea， but then she would never have expected otherwise： every great man or woman in the country trailed（追蹤）a penumbra of petitioners（請愿隊伍的影子）from all walks of life， often felt harried（受煩惱的，受折磨的）by them， but would be outraged， take it as a slackening（變?nèi)酰﹐f power and status， if ever they melted away. And so she took up a place among everyone else who stood， or sat， or paced， waiting for a pause， a glimmer of permission to speak， for hours and days and weeks.

Everyone had advised her not to come， especially when she told them exactly what she wanted， which was not just the land， but the clearing of her husbands name， for his sake and hers but above all for the sake of her children； she wanted blood， and as the blood she wanted was AsratèKassas1， she intended to ask the emperor for it. You cant do that！ Quick glances， around the room， out the window. Everyone knew the emperor had spies， and not just in important places. If they find out theyll kill you！ She had listened， polite， then proceeded with her preparations.

She heard shouts before she saw anything， shouts and stuttering engines.

There seemed suddenly to be more people， some craning their necks， others being pushed back by figures she couldnt see， and she was caught in among them. Her nose filled with their various smells： dust and old sweat， rancid（腐臭的）butter， bruised rue. They were too close. Too close！

Abet abet abet！

Ah. She knew what this was. A gap opened up in front of her， and she pushed forward. She was part of a wall of people now， facing another wall， in between them clear road.

The low， dark car turned into the space， creeping， almost silent， helmeted policemen running alongside.

Abet abet abet！ Abet abet abet！

People began to reach out toward the vehicle. In each hand a piece of paper， held aloft like a flag. Choose me！ Choose me！

The car slid through the paper forest， and slowed. Then the first person broke through the wall， dragged the shemma from around his shoulders， threw it down in front of the car. Another followed， and another， calling abet， abet， abet， calling in the way petitioners had called out to their emperors for centuries， around tents pitched on the northern plains and in the southern depressions（洼地）， through royal enclosures at Ankober（安科伯爾，埃塞俄比亞中部城市）， at Qusquam（魁市葵教堂）， at Gondar， on hunting trips， at parades， at play or at war， stripping off clothing， knowing that the contract between sovereign and people was that no emperor could travel over garments laid down in his path.

The car stopped. The window was rolled down. There was that long nose again. There were children in the car. They must be his grandchildren. The people stared in， and children stared back.

Abet abet abet！ Abet abet abet！

The emperor reached out and took some of the pieces of paper. The window was wound up again and the car moved off. When she got back to where she was staying her daughters ran to meet her. Their bodies felt warm and solid. She buried her face in the hollows（凹陷處）of their necks， breathing deep.

A few days later the aleqa（埃塞俄比亞東正教牧師的尊稱）came over to her little house. He had his own announcement to make. His visitor， appalled by Basilioss（埃塞俄比亞東正教第一任大主教）gift， had persuaded him—was he not more experienced， more learned？—to go to Basilios himself. And Basilios had reconsidered his position， and given Baata to the aleqa instead.

The next time her son visited she sat him down and demanded he write out a petition.

ABET ABET ABET！

The policemen crowded her， pushed her back， but she shrugged them away.

ABET ABET ABET！

Day after day after day. And then one afternoon，‘Leave her be. The busy hands dropped， and a space opened up about her.

Abet abet abet！

He stretched out a small hand， and she placed the petition in it. It was crumpled（弄皺的）， browning in the creases（折痕）. Then the window was rolled up.

Again she hardly remembered， later， how she got up the steps， how she crossed the hall， how long she waited， if she did， before she was ushered in； what the room looked like， who was there—apart from him， of course.

He was standing before his throne.

She bowed， deep.

He was king of kings， elect of God. But， as she had sometimes tried to remind herself over the long months， human too， with his own sadnesses. Leul-Ras Kassa（即上文中的Asratè Kassa王子）， who had been at the emperors side for forty years， advising， offering steadfast friendship， had died just a year before. Hailè Selassie2 had already lost three of his daughters to childbirth and to illness， one of them in Italian captivity； a few months ago his favorite son， chosen， many said， for succession， had died in a car crash.

Your Majesty， my husband is dead. He cried out that he was burning， that he was being scorched（燒焦的）from within.

No need to spell out who she thought was responsible—hadnt the emperor sent letters， after all？

He died a secret， terrible death.

No reply. Then a slight movement. She raised her eyes from the floor， toward the emperors chest. It was his index finger that had moved， and was now pointing at the gilded ceiling.

‘Tell that to Him.

Eyes back down， instantly， to hide the gulfs of disappointment breaking open within her.

Yes， Jan Hoy（海爾·塞拉西一世的另一稱呼）.

‘Is there anything else？

My enemies have taken my land， they have taken my trees.

‘That is a matter for the church authorities.

Then， in a rush， in a bid to make him—a man， a father， the same age now as her husband would have been had he lived—to make him consider what her husbands death had been like， what it meant， what his enemies had been responsible for—

I have given birth to many children. They are scattered across his ashes.

‘They shall go to boarding school.

Yes， Jan Hoy.

And then she was being ushered out， bowing， being handed—what？ A few birr（比爾，埃塞俄比亞貨幣單位）， money ‘for the journey. What journey？ Laughs too loud， remembering it years later. What was it？ A bribe？ Charity？ Insulting， anyway.

1. Asratè Kassa： 在海爾·塞拉西一世在任期間曾任埃塞俄比亞謝瓦省總督、厄立特里亞省總督，后成為埃塞俄比亞帝國所羅門王朝謝瓦分支（Shewan Branch）下Selalle子分支的王公。

2. Hailè Selassie： 海爾·塞拉西一世（1892—1975），埃塞俄比亞攝政王（1916—1930），末代皇帝（1930—1974），當(dāng)代埃塞俄比亞歷史上的決定性人物。