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新浪首页 > 新浪教育 > 《英语沙龙》 > 一个彻罗基的圈内人 还是一个圈外人

一个彻罗基的圈内人 还是一个圈外人
http://www.sina.com.cn 2004/03/02 07:54  英语沙龙

  In the morning, after a long drive and well-deserved sleep, I awoke to a panoramic view of the Smoky Mountains, the home of my ancestors, where I was a stranger. My grandmother’s grandmother had left the reservation generations ago.

  As the day grew warmer, I decided to step outside and explore the surroundings. I took off for the shopping district.

  There, shop after shop, meant to lure the tourist, provided colorful commentaries on the culture of my ancestors.

  With all the festive colorful commercialization you felt lost in the commodification of a people. Identities bought and sold. No example portrayed this more succinctly that photogenic "Smiling Chiefs." Like Santa Clauses at Christmas time, several Chiefs worked at different locations. They greeted tourists. For a small sum of money tourists may have their picture taken with a "Chief". The Chiefs dress in the traditional attire of Plains Indians, not in Cherokee regalia. Tourists, the Cherokee believe, like to see a Chief dressed in buckskin and ornamented with a grand feather headdress that encircles that Chief’s face and trails down his back to the ground.

  I saw several "Chiefs" while I was there, but one stood out among the others as he wore the finest full regalia of a Plains Indian. He chatted with a vendor at the candle shop and leaned against the park bench. The Chief must have been weary from a day of smiling that great big Chief smile. But a sudden surge of energy brought him about face as a couple of tourists and their children asked him to post for some pictures. He put his arms around the white family-like the wings of an eagle embracing them. Click, click-a Kadak moment; Click, click-a photo opportunity. Unfolding his wallet, the tourist-father pulled out a couple of bills and paid the Chief. My gut reaction was that the Chief was selling himself and prostituting his culture. Worse yet, his did this after he had corrupted it by confounding it with another Native culture. After all, he was dressed like a Plains Indian, not a traditional Cherokee. I shook my head at the sight. But the "Smiling Chief" saw me shake my head. He stopped smiling. He gave me a pointed and pedantic stare. I had been caught judging one of my elders, and I suddenly felt ashamed.

  Who was I to judge this man's behavior? Who was I to say that this was not acceptable? Did I live on the reservation, a place where salaries are less that half of the poorest salaries in America? Did I have children to feed under such circumstances? Did I even know the history of how the headdress was accepted by many Native Americans as a symbol of Indian-ness to be worn with pride, even by those whose ancestors never wore them? He spoke no words. His eyes said all of this to me. But there was something else deep inside his dark eyes. There was a sorrow and a shame, which my judgmental attitude had forced to rupture like an ugly scab torn from the skin. I felt ashamed. I left the shopping district wanting to leave the reservation. But I had several days left within the homeland and I would have to learn to live with myself.

  In the days that followed, I hiked through the mountains with my companion. We attended the living history museum. A much more accurate portrayal of my grandmother's people and early indigenous culture was presented at Oconaluftee Indian village. I learned much about the old ways. We chatted with a man who demonstrated the art of making and using a blow gun.

  An elementary school teacher sat on a folding chair behind a card table. "Three for a dollar," I asked her what cause the raffle supported. Following her explanation, I bought raffle tickets in support of the Cherokee Elementary School's efforts to raise money so that fourth graders might attend space camp. Space camp. Shaking my head, I thought to myself, here I am reaching for my past as these children are reaching for their future. But the next few displays acknowledged that the past was not forgotten.

  I packed slowly the day we left the Qualla Boundary. The television newscaster's voice drone in the background as I filled my suitcase. Suddenly his words caught my attention. He reported on the Columbus Day events that had taken place the day before. I had not realized it was Columbus Day. I smiled to think that I had quietly spent the day unscathed by the heroics of newscasters. On the other hand, it warmed my heart to realize that I had spent Columbus Day as an insider on the Qualla Boundary eating fry bread. But I also felt like an outsider, one who did not know how to relate to the "Smiling Chiefs", one who was surprised to find the children seeking money for space camp, one who found the museums tacky, but the baskets and pottery collectible by“western”standards. I was/am as torn as the place itself. A Cherokee insider and outsider.

  Robin Patric Clair

一个彻罗基的圈内人 还是一个圈外人

  经过长途驾驶和良好的睡眠,我早上醒来,眺望风景优美的斯莫基山脉。这里是我祖先的家园,而我却是一个陌生人。很久很久以前,我祖母的祖母已经离开了这片印第安人居留地。

  随着气温逐渐上升,我决定走出门去考察一下周围环境。我先朝商业区走去。

  在那里,商店一家挨着一家,装璜得光艳夺目,以吸引游客,用视觉形象讲述着我的祖先的故事。

  在色彩缤纷节日般的商业化气氛中,一个民族变成了一件商品,你对此怎能不感到茫然。对人的身份都能进行买卖。没有比特别上相的“微笑的首领”能更简明扼要地反映这一点了。就像圣诞节时候的圣诞老人一样,几个“首领”在不同的地方忙碌着。他们跟游客打着招呼。游客只要出很少的钱,就可以与一位“首领”合影。首领们没有穿彻罗基华丽的服饰。而是穿着大平原印第安人的传统服装。彻罗基人认为游客喜欢看到首领穿着鹿皮,戴着围绕在他脸部周围、拽地华丽羽毛头饰。

  我在那里的时候,见到几位“首领”,但是其中有一个特别突出,穿着最好的大平原印第安人的华丽服饰。他靠在公园的长椅上,和一个腊烛店的店主聊天。这个首领带着大首领的微笑过了一天,一定是累了。但是几个游客及他们的孩子们要跟他合影,由此突然激发起来的热情,立即使他振作起来。他伸开双臂,把这个白人家庭楼在怀里,好像一只老鹰的翅膀拥抱着他们。咔嚓,咔嚓——柯达时刻,咔嚓,咔嚓——拍照的好机会。游客父亲翻开皮夹,拿出几张钞票,付给那个首领。我下意识的反应是那个首领在出卖他自己,亵渎了他的文化。更糟糕的是,他的行为玷污了另一个印第安文化。毕竟,他打扮得像大平原印第安人,不是传统的彻罗基。我看着这一切,摇了摇头。但是“微笑的首领”看到我摇头便不再微笑。他看了我一眼,目光犀利而深邃。我觉得自己在批判长辈时被发现了,突然感到羞愧难当。

  我是谁?我有权力判断这个人的行为吗?我有权力说这不可接受吗?我可曾在工资收入不到全美最低的工资一半的居留地生活过?我可曾有过在些条件下还要设法养活嗷嗷待哺的孩子的经历吗?我可曾知道关于许多印第安人,包括那些祖先们从来没有戴过头饰的,却把戴头饰当作作为印第安人的骄傲的象征的人的历史?他一句话也没说。这一切他是用眼睛对我说的。但是在他的黑色眼睛的深处,还有别的东西。我带有指责的目光激起了他的伤感和惭愧,像撕裂皮肤上丑陋的伤疤一样。我感到惭愧不已。离开了商业区,想要离开居留地。可是我还要在我的家园里停留好几天,我不得不努力处理我内心的矛盾。

  在接下来的几天中,我与我的同伴们一起爬山。我们参观了历史博物馆的现场表演。奥克那露提印第安村的表演更真实的展现了我祖母一代人和他们的土著文化。我学到了很多关于过去的风俗习惯。

  一个小学教师坐在抽彩票桌旁的折叠椅上。“一块钱三张,”她说。我向她询问彩票所支助的项目。听着她的解释,我买了几张彩票,支持切诺基小学筹集资金,使得四年级学生可以参加太空营。太空营。我摇了摇头,对自己说,我来这里寻找我的过去,而这些孩子们憧憬着他们的未来。接下来的几个表演显示,过去并未被忘记。

  当我们离开奎拉那得利的那天,我慢慢地收拾行李。我装箱子的时候,听到电视播音员沉闷的声音。突然间,他注意到他正在报道前一天哥伦比亚日的有关活动。此前我并没有意识到前一天是哥伦比亚日。我暗自庆幸,能够躲过电视播音员的华丽说词安安静静地度过哥伦比亚日。在另一方面,当我想到我是作为一个圈内人,在奎拉那得利吃着炸面包度过了哥伦布日时。我感到有一股暖流涌上心头。但是,我又觉得我同时又是个圈外人,是一个不知该如何认同“微笑的首领”、对孩子们为太空营筹集资金感到惊讶、认为那里的博物馆品味不高,却觉得按“西方”的标准那里的篮子和陶器还是值得收集的人。我和这个地方一样充满矛盾。既是一个彻罗基的圈内人,又是一个圈外人。

  陈晓宁译




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