崩溃(Things Fall Apart) (英文版)作者:奇奴阿·阿切比-第6部分

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emefuna　had　an　endless　stock　of　folk　tales。　Even　those　which　Nwoye　knew　already　were　told　with　a　new　freshness　and　the　local　flavor　of　a　different　clan。　Nwoye　remembered　this　period　very　vividly　till　the　end　of　his　life。　He　even　remembered　how　he　had　laughed　when　Ikemefuna　told　him　that　the　proper　name　for　a　corn　cob　with　only　a　few　scattered　grains　was　eze…agadi…nwayi；　or　the　teeth　of　an　old　woman。　Nwoye's　mind　had　gone　immediately　to　Nwayieke；　who　lived　near　the　udala　tree。　She　had　about　three　teeth　and　was　always　smoking　her　pipe。
　　Gradually　the　rains　became　lighter　and　less　frequent；　and　earth　and　sky　once　again　became　separate。　The　rain　fell　in　thin；　slanting　showers　through　sunshine　and　quiet　breeze。　Children　no　longer　stayed　indoors　but　ran　about　singing：
　　〃The　rain　is　falling；　the　sun　is　shining；　Alone　Nnadi　is　cooking　and　eating。〃
　　Nwoye　always　wondered　who　Nnadi　was　and　why　he　should　live　all　by　himself；　cooking　and　eating。　In　the　end　he　decided　that　Nnadi　must　live　in　that　land　of　Ikemefuna's　favorite　story　where　the　ant　holds　his　court　in　splendor　and　the　sands　dance　forever。
　　CHAPTER　FIVE
　　The　Feast　of　the　New　Yam　was　approaching　and　Umuofia　was　in　a　festival　mood。　It　was　an　occasion　for　giving　thanks　to　Ani；　the　earth　goddess　and　the　source　of　all　fertility。　Ani　played　a　greater　part　in　the　life　of　the　people　than　any　other　diety。　She　was　the　ultimate　judge　of　morality　and　conduct。　And　what　was　more；　she　was　in　close　munion　with　the　departed　fathers　of　the　clan　whose　bodies　had　been　mitted　to　earth。
　　The　Feast　of　the　New　Yam　was　held　every　year　before　the　harvest　began；　to　honor　the　earth　goddess　and　the　ancestral　spirits　of　the　clan。　New　yams　could　not　be　eaten　until　some　had　first　been　offered　to　these　powers。　Men　and　women；　young　and　old；　looked　forward　to　the　New　Yam　Festival　because　it　began　the　season　of　plenty—the　new　year。　On　the　last　night　before　the　festival；　yams　of　the　old　year　were　all　disposed　of　by　those　who　still　had　them。　The　new　year　must　begin　with　tasty；　fresh　yams　and　not　the　shriveled　and　fibrous　crop　of　the　previous　year。　All　cooking　pots；　calabashes　and　wooden　bowls　were　thoroughly　washed；　especially　the　wooden　mortar　in　which　yam　was　pounded。　Yam　foo…foo　and　vegetable　soup　was　the　chief　food　in　the　celebration。　So　much　of　it　was　cooked　that；　no　matter　how　heavily　the　family　ate　or　how　many　friends　and　relatives　they　invited　from　neighboring　villages；　there　was　always　a　large　quantity　of　food　left　over　at　the　end　of　the　day。　The　story　was　always　told　of　a　wealthy　man　who　set　before　his　guests　a　mound　of　foo…foo　so　high　that　those　who　sat　on　one　side　could　not　see　what　was　happening　on　the　other；　and　it　was　not　until　late　in　the　evening　that　one　of　them　saw　for　the　first　time　his　in…law　who　had　arrived　during　the　course　of　the　meal　and　had　fallen　to　on　the　opposite　side。　It　was　only　then　that　they　exchanged　greetings　and　shook　hands　over　what　was　left　of　the　food。
　　The　New　Yam　Festival　was　thus　an　occasion　for　joy　throughout　Umuofia。　And　every　man　whose　arm　was　strong；　as　the　Ibo　people　say；　was　expected　to　invite　large　numbers　of　guests　from　far　and　wide。　Okonkwo　always　asked　his　wives'　relations；　and　since　he　now　had　three　wives　his　guests　would　make　a　fairly　big　crowd。
　　But　somehow　Okonkwo　could　never　bee　as　enthusiastic　over　feasts　as　most　people。　He　was　a　good　eater　and　he　could　drink　one　or　two　fairly　big　gourds　of　palm…wine。　But　he　was　always　unfortable　sitting　around　for　days　waiting　for　a　feast　or　getting　over　it。　He　would　be　very　much　happier　working　on　his　farm。
　　The　festival　was　now　only　three　days　away。　Okonkwo's　wives　had　scrubbed　the　walls　and　the　huts　with　red　earth　until　they　reflected　light。　They　had　then　drawn　patterns　on　them　in　white；　yellow　and　dark　green。　They　then　set　about　painting　themselves　with　cam　wood　and　drawing　beautiful　black　patterns　on　their　stomachs　and　on　their　backs。　The　children　were　also　decorated；　especially　their　hair；　which　was　shaved　in　beautiful　patterns。　The　three　women　talked　excitedly　about　the　relations　who　had　been　invited；　and　the　children　reveled　in　the　thought　of　being　spoiled　by　these　visitors　from　the　motherland。　Ikemefuna　was　equally　excited。　The　New　Yam　Festival　seemed　to　him　to　be　a　much　bigger　event　here　than　in　his　own　village；　a　place　which　was　already　being　remote　and　vague　in　his　imagination。
　　And　then　the　storm　burst。　Okonkwo；　who　had　been　walking　about　aimlessly　in　his　pound　in　suppressed　anger；　suddenly　found　an　outlet。
　　〃Who　killed　this　banana　tree？〃　he　asked。
　　A　hush　fell　on　the　pound　immediately。
　　〃Who　killed　this　tree？　Or　are　you　all　deaf　and　dumb？〃
　　As　a　matter　of　fact　the　tree　was　very　much　alive。　Okonkwo's　second　wife　had　merely　cut　a　few　leaves　off　it　to　wrap　some　food；　and　she　said　so。　Without　further　argument　Okonkwo　gave　her　a　sound　beating　and　left　her　and　her　only　daughter　weeping。　Neither　of　the　other　wives　dared　to　interfere　beyond　an　occasional　and　tentative；　〃It　is　enough；　Okonkwo；〃　pleaded　from　a　reasonable　distance。
　　His　anger　thus　satisfied；　Okonkwo　decided　to　go　out　hunting。　He　had　an　old　rusty　gun　made　by　a　clever　blacksmith　who　had　e　to　live　in　Umuofta　long　ago。　But　although　Okonkwo　was　a　great　man　whose　prowess　was　universally　acknowledged；　he　was　not　a　hunter。　In　fact　he　had　not　killed　a　rat　with　his　gun。　And　so　when　he　called　Ikemefuna　to　fetch　his　gun；　the　wife　who　had　just　been　beaten　murmured　something　about　guns　that　never　shot。　Unfortunately　for　her　Okonkwo　heard　it　and　ran　madly　into　his　room　for　the　loaded　gun；　ran　out　again　and　aimed　at　her　as　she　clambered　over　the　dwarf　wall　of　the　barn。　He　pressed　the　trigger　and　there　was　a　loud　report　acpanied　by　the　wail　of　his　wives　and　children。　He　threw　down　the　gun　and　jumped　into　the　barn　and　there　lay　the　woman；　very　much　shaken　and　frightened　but　quite　unhurt。　He　heaved　a　heavy　sigh　and　went　away　with　the　gun。
　　In　spite　of　this　incident　the　New　Yam　Festival　was　celebrated　with　great　joy　in　Okonkwo's　household。　Early　that　morning　as　he　offered　a　sacrifice　of　new　yam　and　palm　oil　to　his　ancestors　he　asked　them　to　protect　him；　his　children　and　their　mothers　in　the　new　year。
　　As　the　day　wore　on　his　in…laws　arrived　from　three　surrounding　villages；　and　each　party　brought　with　them　a　huge　pot　of　palm…wine。　And　there　was　eating　and　drinking　till　night；　when　Okonkwo's　in…laws　began　to　leave　for　their　homes　The　second　day　of　the　new　year　was　the　day　of　the　great　wrestling　match　between　Okonkwo's　village　and　their　neighbors。　It　was　difficult　to　say　which　the　people　enjoyed　more；　the　feasting　and　fellowship　of　the　first　day　or　the　wrestling　Contest　of　the　second。　But　there　was　one　woman　who　had　no　doubt　whatever　in　her　mind。　She　was　Okonkwo's　second　wife　Ekwefi；　whom　he　nearly　shot。　There　was　no　festival　in　all　the　seasons　of　the　year　which　gave　her　as　much　pleasure　as　the　wrestling　match。　Many　years　ago　when　she　was　the　village　beauty　Okonkwo　had　won　her　heart　by　throwing　the　Cat　in　the　greatest　contest　within　living　memory。　She　did　not　marry　him　then　because　he　was　too　poor　to　pay　her　bride…price。　But　a　few　years　later　she　ran　away　from　her　husband　and　came　to　live　with　Okonkwo。　All　this　happened　many　years　ago。　Now　Ekwefi　was　a　woman　of　forty…five　who　had　suffered　a　great　deal　in　her　time。　But　her　love　of　wrestling　contests　was　still　as　strong　as　it　was　thirty　years　ago。
　　It　was　not　yet　noon　on　the　second　day　of　the　New　Yam　Festival。　Ekwefi　and　her　only　daughter；　Ezinma；　sat　near　the　fireplace　waiting　for　the　water　in　the　pot　to　boil。　The　fowl　Ekwefi　had　just　killed　was　in　the　wooden　mortar。　The　water　began　to　boil；　and　in　one　deft　movement　she　lifted　the　pot　from　the　fire　and　poured　the　boiling　water　over　the　fowl。　She　put　back　the　empty　pot　on　the　circular　pad　in　the　corner；　and　looked　at　her　palms；　which　were　black　with　soot。　Ezinma　was　always　surprised　that　her　mother　could　lift　a　pot　from　the　fire　with　her　bare　hands。
　　〃Ekwefi；〃　she　said；　〃is　it　true　that　when　people　are　grown　up；　fire　does　not　burn　them？〃　Ezinma；　unlike　most　children；　called　her　mother　by　her　name。
　　〃Yes；〃　replied　Ekwefi；　too　busy　to　argue。　Her　daughter　was　only　ten　years　old　but　she　was　wiser　than　her　years。
　　〃But　Nwoye's　mother　dropped　her　pot　of　hot　soup　the　other　day　and　it　broke　on　the　floor。〃
　　Ekwefi　turned　the　hen　over　in　the　mortar　and　began　to　pluck　the　feathers。
　　〃Ekwefi；〃　said　Ezinma；　who　had　joined　in　plucking　the　feathers；　〃my　eyelid　is　twitching。〃
　　〃It　means　you　are　going　to　cry；〃　said　her　mother。
　　〃No；〃　Ezinma　said；　〃it　is　this　eyelid；　the　top　one。〃
　　〃That　means　you　will　see　something。〃
　　〃What　will　I　see？〃　she　asked。
　　〃How　can　I　know？〃　Ekwefi　wanted　her　to　work　it　out　herself。
　　〃Oho；〃　said　Ezinma　at　last。　〃I　know　what　it　is—the　wrestling　match。〃
　　At　last　the　hen　was　plucked　clean。　Ekwefi　tried　to　pull　out　the　horny　beak　but　it　was　too　hard。　She　turned　round　on　her　low　stool　and　put　the　beak　in　the　fire　for　a　few　moments。　She　pulled　again　and　it　came　off。
　　〃Ekwefi！〃　a　voice　called　from　one　of　the　other　huts。　It　was　Nwoye's　mother；　Okonkwo's　first　wife。
　　〃Is　that　me？〃　Ekwefi　called　back。　That　was　the　way　people　answered　calls　from　outside。　They　never　answered　yes　for　fear　it　might　be　an　evil　spirit　calling。
　　〃Will　you　give　Ezinma　some　fire　to　bring　to　me？〃　Her　own　children　and　Ikemefuna　had　gone　to　the　stream。
　　Ekwefi　put　a　few　live　coals　into　a　piece　of　broken　pot　and　Ezinma　carried　it　across　the　clean　swept　pound　to　Nwoye's　mother。
　　〃Thank　you；　Nma；〃　she　said。　She　was　peeling　new　yams；　and　in　a　basket　beside　her　were　green　vegetables　and　beans。
　　〃Let　me　make　the　fire　for　you；〃　Ezinma　offered。
　　〃Thank　you；　Ezigbo；〃　she　said。　She　often　called　her　Ezigbo；　which　means　〃the　good　one。〃
　　Ezinma　went　outside　and　brought　some　sticks　from　a　huge　bundle　of　firewood。　She　broke　them　into　little　pieces　across　the　sole　of　her　foot　and　began　to　build　a　fire；　blowing　it　with　her　breath。
　　〃You　will　blow　your　eyes　out；〃　said　Nwoye's　mother；　looking　up　from　the　yams　she　was　peeling。　〃Use　the　fan。〃　She　stood　up　and　pulled　out　the　fan　which　was　fastened　into　one　of　the　rafters。　As　soon　as　she　got　up；　the　troublesome　nanny　goat；　which　had　been　dutiful