Girl at Dawn 黎明女 （4）和美国人撕破脸 （中英对照）

2

SHOWDOWN WITH THE AMERICAN

MAIDEN-IN-THE MOON PLAYS JANE EYRE

This is the day that will supposedly determine my future.

I walk to the teaching building, climb to the second floor, and arrive at the English exam room. Outside the door, students wait, whispering, or practicing English phrases for one last time. My mouth feels dry. Occasionally I find myself holding my breaths. I keep rubbing my sweaty hands on my trousers.

My name is called. I clear my throat and straight my shirt before I walk inside.

“Hello,” the American says, standing up from his seat as I walk towards him. He extends his hand. “I’m Luke.”

His size is the first thing I take notice of. Next to me, he is like a pillar, or a lamp post on the street curb. His shoulders are so thick they bulge from beneath his navy-blue sports shirt. I’ve heard that Americans are generally bigger than Asians because they eat beef every day, whereas we eat vegetables and what little pork we can afford.

“How do you do?” I reply with a phrase I learned from the British textbook in high school. I try to shake the hand extended to me but only catch two fingers. His hand is so big it could clutch a volleyball. The back is covered with brown hair, which gradually becomes furry along the length of the arm—what an enormous length—condensing into a thicket under his Adam’s apple. The most distinctive feature are his intensely blue eyes beneath the well-defined bushy eyebrows. This is the first time I’ve ever seen blue eyes in person, which remind me of blue marbles children play with. I try not to stare at his eyes. He has a typical Westerner’s white skin, heavily tan. His forehead is broad and smooth. His nose is prominent and straight, which gives him a stubborn look. His hair, medium length, the color of chestnut shells, is unruly. He hardly looks like a teacher, more like someone who was recruited on the basketball court where he had invited himself to a local team that was scrimmaging, just because he, sweaty and smelly, spoke English.

I do indeed smell him, a smell that I can only imagine to be a combination of mothballs and hot Sichuan pepper.

He looks younger than I expected, but it’s hard to tell a foreigner’s age.

第二章

和美国人, Luke , 撕破脸

嫦娥扮演简爱

 

今天应该是决定我前途的一天。

我走到教室楼，爬楼梯到第二层，来到英语测验的教室。门外焦急等待的学生利用最后一分钟练习英文句子。我感到口干，偶尔不由自主的屏住呼吸，并不停地在裤子上擦手上的汗。

听到叫我的名字，我清了清嗓子，拽了拽衣角就走进去了。

“你好，”那个美国人说， 从座位上站起来。我走向他时他一直在盯着我看，然后他把手伸给我，“我是Luke。”

我先注意到的是他的个头。在我旁边简直像一个石柱或马路沿的电线杆子。他的肩膀很宽很厚， 在他的衣服下面鼓鼓的。 我听说美国人都长得比亚洲人大， 因为他们每天吃牛肉， 不像我们大多吃蔬菜， 猪肉吃得到也很少。

“你好，” 我背了从高中英文课本里学来的句子回答他。我去握他的手，却只抓住两个手只头。他的手大的能抓住一个排球。手背上长满了棕色的毛发，渐渐往胳膊上延伸_多么粗的胳膊_发发到他脖子下面，简直就成了一个小草丛。我尽量不去看他的眼睛。这还是我第一次亲眼看到蓝眼睛， 使我想起小时候玩的蓝色玻璃球。 他脸上是典型白人得皮肤，晒得发红。 他的 鼻子的确挺大，很直，给人一种固执的印象。 他的头发不长不短， 棕色， 有点乱。 他一点都不像老师， 倒像在篮球场上打球的时候被临时拉下来—汗流浃背的样子—借用到学校给我们考试， 仅仅因为他说英文。

的确我能闻到他身上的汗味，怪怪的，我想象 只有卫生球和四川辣椒面混合起来才产生的味。  

他比我想象的年轻多了，但我还是猜不出他的年龄。

I nearly forget to tell him my name. “I. . . I am Chang-Er,” I hurry to say.

“Chang-Er,” he says awkwardly, scratching his head. Apparently, my name is difficult for him to pronounce. “Please have a seat.”

I sit on the edge of the bench and assume a fight-or-flight position. Sitting behind a desk, he lays his big hands flat on the desk. He makes me think of a giant hawk, but only a paper hawk. Inside there’s nothing but air, I tell myself, recalling VeVe’s words.

I notice a sheet of paper in front of him, likely the exam list. I wait for him to launch the first question, but he doesn’t seem in a hurry to do so. Instead, he stares at me, intently, a little too long. Already nervous, I become uncomfortable under his stare, tortured by my shyness. How long is he going to stare at me? Has he never seen a Chinese girl before?

“What does your name, Chang-Er, mean?” he asks. “I’m very curious. It’s my impression that all Chinese names have meanings.”

He clearly has forgotten to refer to the exam list. Whoever recruited him at the basketball court did not brief him properly. Surely, the meaning of my name is not among the questions on the list. But at least this is an easy one.

“It means Maiden-in-the Moon. Chang-Er is a name in a classic folklore. She is a princess banished to live in the moon alone for disobeying her mother.”

“Hmm, interesting. By ‘moon’ you mean the moon, as in the sun and the moon?” He looks amused, smiling a little. “In my understanding, ‘moon’ can mean different things in the Chinese culture.”

How does he know that much? “Moon means moon. Moon is moon. Sun is sun.” I feel stupid with my answer.

I never liked the name Chang-Er; it puzzles me that Ve-Ve—who does not lack imagination—gave me a name directly from a well-known fairy tale.

Luke chuckles, which annoys me.

“I go by Amei, though. You may forget about the moon from now on,” I say.

I like my nickname Amei, after mei-hua, the flower that blooms before all other flowers, as it begins to bloom in the winter. Though the female name mei is not uncommon, Ve-Ve still likes it for the connotation of nobility, purity, and resilience.

我想起来忘了告诉他我的名字。“我叫董嫦娥，”我匆匆的说。

“董—嫦—娥，” 篮球Luke笨拙地重复， 挠挠头。 很明显，我的名字对他有点困难。“请坐下，” 他说。

我坐在凳子边上，做好了打不过就逃跑的姿势。他穿着一件蓝色带黄条的运动衫， 坐在桌子后面， 两只手放在桌子上。他的样子使我想起一只大老鹰。这时微微的话在我耳边响起，我又想他只是一个纸老鹰罢了， 里面全是空气。

我注意到他面前一张纸，大概上面是考试题。我等他问第一个问题，可是他好像不着急。他盯着看过我，仔细地看，看的时间有点长。我本来就紧张，在他的凝视下，更加不自在起来。我天生的的羞怯也在折磨我。他要这样看我多久，没见过中国女孩吗？

“你的名字，嫦娥，是什么意思啊？” 他问。“我的印象是中国名字都有意义。”

他根本不看桌子上的考试题。我的名字什么意思肯定不在考试题里。不过这个问题很好回答。

“就是月亮女的意思，”我说。“嫦娥是一个童话里的名字，天上的公主，因为违背了母王，被惩罚到月亮上独守。”

“挺有意思。你说的月亮就是月亮和太阳的月亮嘛，”他笑着问我。“我的理解是在中国文化里好像月亮有不同的象征。”

他怎末知道那么多？我不知如何回答他，就用糟糕的英文说，“月亮是月亮，太阳是太阳。”我为我的回答感到非常愚蠢。

Luke笑了一声，使我有点恼火。

“别人都叫我阿梅，”我赶快说，“你从现在起就忘了月亮这回事儿吧，叫我阿梅好了。”

我很不喜欢嫦娥这个名字。微微怎末给我起了这样一个俗气的名字？我更喜欢我的小名，阿梅。 取梅花之意。 微微说梅花是百花之首， 唯一在寒冬里开的花。尽管叫“梅”的人很多， 但我喜欢她的高贵，纯洁， 又坚强的品性。 不过眼下我不想把这些都告诉一个陌生的美国人

“Amei,” Luke repeats to himself, slowly.

“The name Amei doesn’t have a meaning,” I say quickly.

I don’t want to explain my nickname to this American stranger just yet.

“Oh, I see.” He nods. “Where are you from?” Another strange question.

“I am from Shanghai,” I reply. VeVe wants me to tell people I originally came from Shanghai, as if being born in the largest city in the country would add to my worth and outweigh our meager lives here in Hesin.

“Why do you want to be in Class Zero?” he asks, finally remembering the exam list on his desk. He sits with a straight back, a little stiff, looking very serious. Trying too hard to act the role of a professor, I think.

Class Zero is a special class intended for future medical professionals to receive rigorous English training so that we will not lag behind modern medicine. Graduates will likely have better job opportunities. But all of this is hard for me to put into English without sounding foolish.

“Well?” Luke the American says.

It was Hesin Medical College’s idea to create this freshman class in the first place. This question is absurd, as if I am being offered an apple and then asked why I want to eat it.

The night before the exam, VeVe and I prayed to Buddha, chanting:

Na mu neo ho lei gen kio

Na mu neo ho lei gen kio

Na mu neo ho lei gen kio. . . ..

 

I asked Buddha to show mercy on me at the English exam. I doubted that VeVe was praying for the same thing, though I did hear her say “American” several times. She kept her voice low.

“You want to be in Class Zero, because. . . ?” the American repeats his previous question.

He has an accent very different from the BBC English I listen to on tapes, and not quite the same as Voice of America that I steal on the shortwave radio with government-imposed statics in the background—the only thing that comes through clearly is Tom Sawyer tricking his playmate, Ben, into painting Aunt Polly’s fence, which the government probably does not consider Western poison to our minds.

I look around the room. There is a Chinese professor testing other students on the opposite side, and they seem to be enjoying themselves given their smiling faces.

“Well, because it’s the best class with the best teachers,” I say, “and I like the opportunity of learning English. I like the language.”

He seems to relax a little, satisfied, I think.

He refers to the exam list. “How do you like living in Hesin?”

“阿梅，” 他慢慢地重复着。

“阿梅这个名字没有什么意思，”我赶快说。

“奥。“ 他点点头。 你是从哪里来的呢，Luke 这个美国人又问。我从上海来的，我回答。微微要我告诉别人是在上海出生的，好像从一个大城市里来会增加我的价值。

“你为什么要进到零班，” 他扫了一眼桌上的考试题， 第一次问了一个该问的问题。他直了直腰，显得有点僵硬，挺严肃的样子，好像刚想起他应该装成一个教授的样子。

学校自己开这个班，又问我们为什末想进这个班。这有点荒唐。好像别人给你一个苹果，又问你为什么要吃它。零班是一个特殊班，为了培养会英文的医学人员，以至于我们国家的医学不会落后。毕业后，我们这些人会有更好的工作。但是我不会用英语翻译这个意思而显得不愚蠢。

“说嘛，” Luke 催我。

昨天晚上，我跟着微微一起祷告菩萨。南无阿弥陀佛，南无阿弥陀佛，南无阿弥陀佛。我求菩萨在英语考试时发慈悲。我听到微微说美国人这个字说了几次，但我不相信她和我求菩萨是一件事。她的声音一直很低。

“你要进零班是因为。。。？” 篮球Luke重复了一下刚才的问题。他的口音和我经常听的BBC 英语很不一样，和美国之声也有差距。美国之声是我从AM频道上偷听的。背景有好多干扰。好像连汤姆骗他的伙伴儿替他刷姨妈的墙的故事也被认为是西方流毒，可以污染我们的心灵。

我看了一下教室的周围。一个中国老师在对面测试其他同学。那些同学显得很从容且面带笑容。显然，老师没有难为他们。

“怎么说呢，” 我想办法回答Luke。 “也许，因为这是一个最好的班，有最好的老师。而且我很喜欢学英文。我喜欢这个语言。”

篮球Luke放松了一点，我想他大概对我的回答挺满意。他又看了一眼考试题，问， “你喜欢在这个城市生活吗？”

I’m tempted to tell him about my dislike of the dusty wind, the crowded buses, and rude postal workers. Do I dare tell him that I long to explore the outside world? That I picture myself leaving home at eighteen to strike out on my own with nothing but a quilt bundle on my back and Jane Eyre—she was eighteen—in my pocket?

Of course it would be embarrassing to reveal that much to this strange American named Luke—I haven’t decided if I like the name or not—even if I could put them together in English.

“I like Hesin ever so much,” I say, repeating what I’ve memorized, “because it is a glorious city under the great socialist construction. Many victories have taken place under the leadership of the communist party.”

He smiles, as if amused by my seriousness, but he quickly checks himself and puts on a straight face. For the subsequent questions regarding the climate and some geography, I am able to answer without much difficulty.

“Why do you want to be a doctor?” That sounds like an important question.

            I bite my lips. Truth is I never wanted to be a doctor. VeVe said that she and my father—on his death bed—reached an agreement that I should be a physician when I grew up. Even though a physician’s income is not much higher than that of a street vendor selling jewelry, VeVe says that a doctor can always count on people getting sick. It is like holding a bowl that is always filled with food. She adds that she has had nightmares of me carrying large rocks in a gravel pit with my chopstick-thin arms. When I asked her about my father’s thoughts, she said that he was concerned with my safety, saying—once again, on his death bed—that medicine had little to do with dangerous politics.

            “Well?” The American leans forward.

            “I want to be a doctor because I want to serve the people wholeheartedly, especially poor and lower-middle peasants from the remote countryside. I might even volunteer to work in the backward area of the Gobi Desert.”

            “The Gobi Desert? Seriously? I like deserts myself,” he looks animated. “The Rocky Mountains and Sierra Nevada are gorgeous. Have you been to any of those?”

            I simply shake my head. Does he really not know that traveling is not one of the events in our lives, least of all overseas traveling? As for me, VeVe can’t even afford to buy me a train ticket to Qingdao, a pretty city on the coast not too far from Hesin. But how do I explain this to Luke, the American, whom I’ve decided to be no more than five-years older than I? 

不知为什么，我真想告诉他我有多么厌恶这个城市的带灰尘的风，拥挤的公共汽车，和粗鲁的邮局人员。我还想大胆地告诉他我一直想到外面的世界看一看呢，而且除了扛一卷被子，什么都不带，只在口袋里塞一本简爱。

我当然不好意思向一个叫Luke的陌生美国人吐露这么多。何况我也

不会用英文表达出来。到现在我还没有决定我是否喜欢露Luke这个名字。

我只好撒谎。

“我很喜欢这个城市，” 我说，“它是在党的领导下建立的一座美丽的城市。”这些都是我从高中英文课本里背下来的。

他笑了， 可能被我的呆板逗笑了。 但他马上意识到了，又换上一副严肃的面孔。下面的问题是关于天气啊，还有一些地理问题啊。我都很自如地回答了他。

“你为什么要当医生呢，” 他又问。

这像是一个挺重要的问题。事实是我从来就没想当医生。微微说，她和我爸爸当初一致决定我长大后当一个医生。伟伟说当时爸爸正在床上弥留之际，快死了。微微认为当医生不会失业，永远会指望生病的人，就像手里捧着一个满满的金饭碗。她还说经常做噩梦，梦见我用像筷子一样细的胳膊在石旷工里扛比我还大的石头。当我问到他我爸爸的想法，她草草的说，他考虑的是我的安全。至于当医生为何安全他没能够解释，不是躺在床上正在死去吗。

因为我没马上回答，他往前倾了倾身。“没想过吗？”他那么近，我又闻到他身上的卫生球和四川辣椒混合味。

“我想当医生，是因为我想全心全意的为人民服务，我说，特别是边远地区的穷苦人民。我也有心自愿去落后的戈壁滩沙漠做一个医疗者。”

当然，这些话都是我在高中英文书里面背下来的。只有戈壁滩沙漠是我自己加进去的。

“戈壁滩沙漠？真的？我也喜欢沙漠。” 他显得很高兴。“我去过咯岐山和四峨螺泥洼达的沙漠。 非常壮观。你有没有去过？”

我摇了摇头。他真的不知道旅游不是我们生活的一部分吗？更何况到外国去？微微连一张到我一直向往的上海的火车票都买不起。可是我怎样向这个美国篮球小伙解释呢？ 我现在断定他比我大概大不过五岁。

            “Have you been to the countryside?” Luke asks. “What medical care do the peasants have?”

            I don’t know if those questions are on the list. By now, I believe he should be pleased with my English and let me go. When his blue eyes pierce into mine, I suspect he might be annoyed rather than satisfied with my good performance, as if it would please him to see me struggle. Fiend! Fiend! I cry inwardly—reminded of this word from Jane Eyre.

“No, I have not been to the countryside. And medical. . . I beg your pardon?” I stammer.

I do not know anything about the medical care system since VeVe cares for both of us with her herbs. I search for all the phrases I have prepared but cannot find one that even remotely fits his question. I lower my head, look at the concrete floor, and twist the hem of my blouse.

 “Did you say you were seventeen?”

How does he know I’m seventeen? I haven’t said anything about my age. All the other students are eighteen, except a girl named Fen who is nineteen. I am one-year younger because I started school earlier.

“你去过农村吗，”他突然问，“农民有什么医疗？”

我不知道那个问题是否在考试题里。到目前我以为他应该对我的英文很很满意而给个高分放我走。但是此刻，当他的蓝眼睛盯住我的时候，我意识到我出色的回答，不但没让他满意，反而使他恼火，好像看到我挣扎他才高兴。我突然想起了简爱里面的一个词，恶魔，恶魔，我在心里面喊着。

“没有，我从来没到过农村。医疗。。。什么医疗。。。你再说一遍好吗？”我结结巴巴的说。

任何地方的医疗制度我都不知道，因为玮玮使用她自己的中药来照顾我们俩的。我在脑子里搜索我准备好的英文句子，但是没有找到一个能回答，甚至免强回答他的问题的。我低下头，看着水泥地，开始用手搓我的衣角。

“你17岁对吧，” 他忽然问。

他怎么知道我17岁，我根本就没提我的年龄啊。我上学早了一年，其他的同学都是18岁，除了一个叫芬芳的女孩儿，19岁。

这本小说 可以在这里买到：https://www.amazon.com/s?k=girl+at+dawn&ref=nb_sb_noss_1