第四章: 变色龙 Chameleon
“Oh, Nombuyiselo,” she said. “Trevor is so naughty. He’s the naughtiest child I’ve ever come across in my life.”
“啊，努拜伊赛罗，”外婆回道，“特雷弗太淘气了。他是我这辈子见过最淘气的小孩。”
Later that night my mother came home from work. She found my cousin with a bandage over her ear and my gran crying at the kitchen table.
那晚我妈下班回来，发现我表兄的耳朵上缠着绷带，而外婆则伏在厨房桌子上哭。
“What’s going on?” my mom said.
“怎么了？”我妈问道。
One afternoon I was playing with my cousins. I was a doctor and they were my patients. I was operating on my cousin Bulelwa’s ear with a set of matches when I accidentally perforated her eardrum. All hell broke loose. My grandmother came running in from the kitchen. “Kwenzeka ntoni?!” “What’s happening?!” There was blood coming out of my cousin’s head. We were all crying. My grandmother patched up Bulelwa’s ear and made sure to stop the bleeding. But we kept crying. Because clearly we’d done something we were not supposed to do, and we knew we were going to be punished. My grandmother finished up with Bulelwa’s ear and whipped out a belt and she beat the shit out of Bulelwa. Then she beat the shit out of Mlungisi, too. She didn’t touch me.
有一天下午，我和表兄玩游戏。我假装医生，他们假装病人。我用火柴来检查布勒瓦的耳朵，结果不小心刺穿了他的耳膜。天崩地裂。我外婆从厨房跑过来。“kwenzeka ntoni？”——发生什么了？我表兄的耳朵在流血。我们都在大哭。外婆处理了一下布勒瓦的耳朵，把血止住了。但我们还在哭。很显然，我们心里清楚自己干了一件不该干的事，要被惩罚了。外婆处理完布勒瓦的耳朵后，抽出一根皮带，狠狠揍了布勒瓦一顿。然后她又揍了穆隆格斯一顿。但是却没碰我一下。
“Why not?”
“为什么？”
“I can’t hit him.”
“我不能揍他。”
“Then you should hit him.”
“那你揍他呀。”
“Because I don’t know how to hit a white child,” she said. “A black child, I understand. A black child, you hit them and they stay black. Trevor, when you hit him he turns blue and green and yellow and red. I’ve never seen those colors before. I’m scared I’m going to break him. I don’t want to kill a white person. I’m so afraid. I’m not going to touch him.” And she never did.
“我不知道怎么打白人小孩，”她说，“黑人小孩，我知道怎么打。你打了，他们还是黑的。但是特雷弗的话，你打他，他就青一块紫一块黄一块红一块的。我从没见过这样的。我害怕会把他打坏了。我可不想失手杀死一个白人。我好害怕。我不能碰他。”她确实从来没碰过我一下。
My grandmother treated me like I was white. My grandfather did, too, only he was even more extreme. He called me “Mastah.” In the car, he insisted on driving me as if he were my chauffeur. “Mastah must always sit in the backseat.” I never challenged him on it. What was I going to say? “I believe your perception of race is flawed, Grandfather.” No. I was five. I sat in the back.
我外婆对待我，好像我是个白人一样。我外公也是，不过他更极端。他叫我“主人”。坐车的时候，他会坚持让我坐后面，好像他是我的司机。“主人要坐在后座。”我从来不反驳他，我能怎么说？“姥爷，我觉得你对肤色的看法有问题。”我不会这么说。我只有五岁，我坐车后座。
There were so many perks to being “white” in a black family, I can’t even front. I was having a great time. My own family basically did what the American justice system does: I was given more lenient treatment than the black kids. Misbehavior that my cousins would have been punished for, I was given a warning and let off. And I was way naughtier than either of my cousins. It wasn’t even close. If something got broken or if someone was stealing granny’s cookies, it was me. I was trouble.
在黑人家庭里当“白人”，可以获得很多特权，我想假装没有都不行。那段日子特别开心。家里对我的态度和美国司法系统的逻辑差不多：比起黑人小孩，我受到的待遇明显更宽容。犯了同样的错，我的表兄可能会挨揍，但我最多被警告一下，就没事了。可是，我比表兄们淘气太多了，简直没法比。如果什么东西打碎了，或者有人偷了外婆的饼干，那一定都是我。我就是麻烦精。
At that point I didn’t think of the special treatment as having to do with color. I thought of it as having to do with Trevor. It wasn’t, “Trevor doesn’t get beaten because Trevor is white.” It was, “Trevor doesn’t get beaten because Trevor is Trevor.” Trevor can’t go outside. Trevor can’t walk without supervision. It’s because I’m me; that’s why this is happening. I had no other points of reference. There were no other mixed kids around so that I could say, “Oh, this happens to us.”
小的时候，我并不觉得我享受的特权和肤色有关。我以为那只是因为我是特雷弗。并不是说“特雷弗不挨打，因为他是白人”，而是“特雷弗不挨打，因为他是特雷弗”。特雷弗不能出门。没人看着特雷弗，特雷弗就不能散步。这都只是因为我是我，所以才会这样。我也没有其他的参考对象。身边没有其他混血儿可以比对，我也没法判断说：“哦，原来我们都会受到这样的待遇。”
My mom was the only force I truly feared. She believed if you spare the rod, you spoil the child. But everyone else said, “No, he’s different,” and they gave me a pass. Growing up the way I did, I learned how easy it is for white people to get comfortable with a system that awards them all the perks. I knew my cousins were getting beaten for things that I’d done, but I wasn’t interested in changing my grandmother’s perspective, because that would mean I’d get beaten, too. Why would I do that? So that I’d feel better? Being beaten didn’t make me feel better. I had a choice. I could champion racial justice in our home, or I could enjoy granny’s cookies. I went with the cookies.
我妈是我唯一畏惧的力量。她相信不打不成器。但总有其他人在一边帮腔：“不，他不一样。”然后她就会放过我。在这样的环境里长大，我完全了解白人在这种充满特权的系统里可以过得多么舒适。我知道我的表兄会因为我干的错事而挨揍。但我并不想改变外婆的想法，因为那就意味着我也会挨揍了。为什么要那样？会让我感觉好受些？挨揍并不好受。我得做出选择。一边是我在家里进行种族平权运动，一边是我可以随便拿外婆的饼干吃。我选择吃饼干。
I’d go to funerals and I’d walk in and the bereaved would look up and see me and they’d stop crying. They’d start whispering. Then they’d wave and say, “Oh!” like they were more shocked by me walking in than by the death of their loved ones. I think people felt like the dead person was more important because a white person had come to the funeral.
如果我去参加葬礼，一进门，亡者家属都会停下，抬头看我。他们会开始交头接耳，跟我招手，说：“哦！”就好像比起家人的去世，他们对我出现在葬礼现场这件事，感觉更惊讶。我想，人们可能会因为一个白人莅临现场，而觉得死者好像变重要了一些。
Nearly one million people lived in Soweto. Ninety-nine point nine percent of them were black — and then there was me. I was famous in my neighborhood just because of the color of my skin. I was so unique people would give directions using me as a landmark. “The house on Makhalima Street. At the corner you’ll see a light-skinned boy. Take a right there.”
索韦托有约一百万人口。百分之九十九点九都是黑人——另外一个是我。我在左邻右里间很出名，就因为我的肤色。我太特别了，人们甚至会用我来当地标指路：“就马克哈里玛街上的那个房子。转角处你会看到一个浅皮肤的小男孩。在那儿右转。”
Whenever the kids in the street saw me they’d yell, “Indoda yomlungu!” “The white man!” Some of them would run away. Others would call out to their parents to come look. Others would run up and try to touch me to see if I was real. It was pandemonium. What I didn’t understand at the time was that the other kids genuinely had no clue what a white person was. Black kids in the township didn’t leave the township. Few people had televisions. They’d seen the white police roll through, but they’d never dealt with a white person face-to-face, ever.
街上的小孩看到我就会喊“Indoda yomlungu！”——那个白人！他们中有些人会跑掉。有些人则会叫他们的父母出来看我。还有些人会跑过来摸我，看我是不是真的。简直乱七八糟。我当时并不懂，其他孩子其实不知道白人是什么样的。黑人孩子从来不离开小镇，也没几户人家有电视。他们偶尔会看到白人警察在巡逻，但是他们从未和哪个白人面对面接触过。
As a kid I understood that people were different colors, but in my head white and black and brown were like types of chocolate. Dad was the white chocolate, mom was the dark chocolate, and I was the milk chocolate. But we were all just chocolate. I didn’t know any of it had anything to do with “race.” I didn’t know what race was. My mother never referred to my dad as white or to me as mixed. So when the other kids in Soweto called me “white,” even though I was light brown, I just thought they had their colors mixed up, like they hadn’t learned them properly. “Ah, yes, my friend. You’ve confused aqua with turquoise. I can see how you made that mistake. You’re not the first.”
作为小孩，我知道人们的肤色不同，但是在我脑海中，白色、黑色、棕色的肤色和不同口味的巧克力差不多。爸爸是白巧克力，妈妈是黑巧克力，而我是牛奶巧克力。但我们都是巧克力。我不知道这和“种族”有什么关系，我也不知道什么是种族。我妈妈从来不会说我爸是白人，或我是混血儿。尽管我只是淡棕色，但总有其他索韦托的小孩叫我“白人”，而我则觉得他们搞错了颜色，就好像是理解上出了偏差。“啊，对啦，朋友，你把浅绿色和绿松石色搞混啦。我能理解你为什么搞混。你不是第一个犯这个错的人。”
After a funeral, the mourners all go to the house of the surviving family to eat. A hundred people might show up, and you’ve got to feed them. Usually you get a cow and slaughter it and your neighbors come over and help you cook. Neighbors and acquaintances eat outside in the yard and in the street, and the family eats indoors. Every funeral I ever went to, I ate indoors. It didn’t matter if we knew the deceased or not. The family would see me and invite me in. “Awunakuvumela umntana womlungu ame ngaphandle. Yiza naye apha ngaphakathi,” they’d say. “You can’t let the white child stand outside. Bring him in here.”
葬礼和教会仪式之后，来凭吊的人会去办葬礼的人家吃饭。可能会来一百多个人，你得喂饱他们。一般情况是，要宰一头牛，左邻右里都会过来帮你烹煮。邻居和熟人会在院子和街道上吃，家人在屋里吃。但我去参加的每一场葬礼，我都是在屋里吃的。不管我们认不认识那家人，他们看到我之后，都会让我到屋里来。“Awunakuvumela umntana womlungu ame ngaphandle. Yiza naye apha ngaphakathi”——你可不能让白人小孩站在外头。快带他进来。
After English, Xhosa was what we spoke around the house. When my mother was angry she’d fall back on her home language. As a naughty child, I was well versed in Xhosa threats. They were the first phrases I picked up, mostly for my own safety — phrases like “Ndiza kubetha entloko.” “I’ll knock you upside the head.” Or “Sidenge ndini somntwana.” “You idiot of a child.” It’s a very passionate language. Outside of that, my mother picked up different languages here and there. She learned Zulu because it’s similar to Xhosa. She spoke German because of my father. She spoke Afrikaans because it is useful to know the language of your oppressor. Sotho she learned in the streets.
除英语之外，我们在家里会说科萨语。我妈一生气，就开始飙母语。作为一个调皮的小孩，我很会说科萨语的脏话。那些是我最早学会的句子，主要是为了我自身的安全，譬如“Ndiza kubetha entloko”——我要打爆你的头，以及“Sidenge ndini somntwana。“——你这个傻子。嗯，这是一种非常特别充满激情的语言。除了这些，我妈还从各处学了不少语言。她学了祖鲁语，因为祖鲁语和科萨语很像。她也会说德语，因为我父亲的缘故。她会说南非荷兰语，因为会说殖民者的语言还是很有用的。她的梭托语则是在街头学会的。
I soon learned that the quickest way to bridge the race gap was through language. Soweto was a melting pot: families from different tribes and homelands. Most kids in the township spoke only their home language, but I learned several languages because I grew up in a house where there was no option but to learn them. My mom made sure English was the first language I spoke. If you’re black in South Africa, speaking English is the one thing that can give you a leg up. English is the language of money. English comprehension is equated with intelligence. If you’re looking for a job, English is the difference between getting the job or staying unemployed. If you’re standing in the dock, English is the difference between getting off with a fine or going to prison.
很快，我就发现了填补种族裂隙最快的方式，是说相同的语言。索韦托是个大熔炉。人们来自不同的部落和家乡。镇上的大多数小孩都只会说自己的家乡话，但是我学会了各种不同的语言，因为我的生长环境让我不得不学。我妈妈确保我的第一语言是英语。如果你是一名生在南非的黑人，英语会助你一臂之力。英语是和钱有关的语言。懂英语等于高智商。如果你要找工作，会不会说英语可以决定你是被雇用还是继续失业。如果你在受审，会不会说英语可以决定你是可以交点儿罚金了事，还是去坐牢。
I learned to use language like my mother did. I would simulcast — give you the program in your own tongue. I’d get suspicious looks from people just walking down the street. “Where are you from?” they’d ask. I’d reply in whatever language they’d addressed me in, using the same accent that they used. There would be a brief moment of confusion, and then the suspicious look would disappear. “Oh, okay. I thought you were a stranger. We’re good then.”
我学会了像我妈那样使用语言。我可以同步转播——用你的口音跟你交流。走在路上，我经常会招来怀疑的目光。他们会问我：“你哪儿来的？”不论他们用哪种语言问我，我都会用同样的语言回复他们，并且使用同样的口音。他们脸上会出现一瞬间的迷惑，然后那种怀疑的神情就消失了。“哦，好吧，我以为你是外地人。没事了。”
“Ag, jammer!” he said, apologizing in Afrikaans. Then — and this was the funny thing — he didn’t apologize for being racist; he merely apologized for aiming his racism at us. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” he said. “I thought you were like the other blacks. You know how they love to steal.”
“Ag， jammer！”——啊，对不起！他用南非荷兰语道歉。搞笑的是，他不是在为自己的种族歧视行为道歉，而是在为他把种族歧视用在了我们身上道歉。“对不起啊，我以为你们和那些黑人一样。你知道他们多喜欢偷东西。”
My mother turned around and said, in beautiful, fluent Afrikaans, “Hoekom volg jy nie daai swartes sodat jy hulle kan help kry waarna hulle soek nie?” “Why don’t you follow these blacks so you can help them find what they’re looking for?”
我妈妈转过身，用流畅的南非荷兰语说道：“Hoekom volg jy nie daai swartes sodat jy hulle kan help kry waarna hulle soek nie？”——为什么不跟着这些黑人，以防他们要买什么东西找不到，这样你就可以帮他们服务了？
Living with my mom, I saw how she used language to cross boundaries, handle situations, navigate the world. We were in a shop once, and the shopkeeper, right in front of us, turned to his security guard and said, in Afrikaans, “Volg daai swartes, netnou steel hulle iets.” “Follow those blacks in case they steal something.”
和我妈在一起，我见识到了她怎么运用语言来跨越种族界限、处理难题、闯荡世界。有一次我们去商店，店主当着我们的面，用南非荷兰语对保安说：“Volg daai swartes，netnou steel hulle iets。”——跟着这些黑人，以防他们偷东西。
They looked shocked for a moment, and then they started laughing. “Oh, sorry, dude. We thought you were something else. We weren’t trying to take anything from you. We were trying to steal from white people. Have a good day, man.” They were ready to do me violent harm, until they felt we were part of the same tribe, and then we were cool. That, and so many other smaller incidents in my life, made me realize that language, even more than color, defines who you are to people.
在那一瞬间，他们大惊失色，然后开始哈哈大笑。“不好意思啊，伙计，我们以为你是别人。我们不想从你这儿拿什么。我们是准备去抢白人东西的。祝你开心啊，朋友。”他们本来是打算伤害我的，但发现我可能和他们同属一个部落后，就没事了。这样的事以及其他类似的小事，都让我意识到，比起肤色，语言更能决定你是谁。
It became a tool that served me my whole life. One day as a young man I was walking down the street, and a group of Zulu guys was walking behind me, closing in on me, and I could hear them talking to one another about how they were going to mug me. “Asibambe le autie yomlungu. Phuma ngapha mina ngizoqhamuka ngemuva kwakhe.” “Let’s get this white guy. You go to his left, and I’ll come up behind him.” I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t run, so I just spun around real quick and said, “Kodwa bafwethu yingani singavele sibambe umuntu inkunzi? Asenzeni. Mina ngikulindele.” “Yo, guys, why don’t we just mug someone together? I’m ready. Let’s do it.”
这简直成了我受用终生的工具。有一次，我一个人走在街上，一群祖鲁人在后面跟着我，离我越来越近，我们听到他们在讨论怎么抢劫我。“Asibambe le ndoda yomlungu. Iya ngakwesokunxele sakhe mina ngizoqhamuka ngemuva kwakhe。”——咱们对这个白人下手吧。你去他左边，我到他后面。我不知道怎么办。我跑不掉了，于是迅速转身，对他们说：“Kodwa bafwethu yingani singavele sibambe umuntu inkunzi？Asenzeni.Mina ngikulindele。”——哟，伙计们，我们干吗不一起去抢别人呢？我准备好了，咱们一起干吧。
In my class we had all kinds of kids. Black kids, white kids, Indian kids, colored kids. Most of the white kids were pretty well off. Every child of color pretty much wasn’t. But because of scholarships we all sat at the same table. We wore the same maroon blazers, the same gray slacks and skirts. We had the same books. We had the same teachers. There was no racial separation. Every clique was racially mixed.
我的班里有各种各样的孩子。黑人小孩、白人小孩、印度小孩、有色人种小孩。大多数的白人小孩家里都比较富裕，其他肤色的小孩一般都比较穷，但因为有奖学金，我们都坐在同样的桌子前，都穿着一样的褐红色夹克、灰色的裤子或裙子，用着一样的书，有一样的老师。在这里没有种族的区隔，每个小团体都包含各种肤色的孩子。
As apartheid was coming to an end, South Africa’s elite private schools started accepting children of all colors. My mother’s company offered bursaries, scholarships, for underprivileged families, and she managed to get me into Maryvale College, an expensive private Catholic school. Classes taught by nuns. Mass on Fridays. The whole bit. I started preschool there when I was three, primary school when I was five.
在种族隔离制度行将终结的时候，南非的一些精英私立学校开始接收不同肤色的学生。我妈上班的公司给贫困家庭的孩子准备了助学金和奖学金，于是她便把我弄进了玛丽威尔学院，一所很贵的私立天主教学校。这里由修女授课。周五做弥撒。教会学校那一整套东西都很全面。从三岁开始，我就在那里读学前班，从五岁开始上小学。
I became a chameleon. My color didn’t change, but I could change your perception of my color. If you spoke to me in Zulu, I replied to you in Zulu. If you spoke to me in Tswana, I replied to you in Tswana. Maybe I didn’t look like you, but if I spoke like you, I was you.
我成了一个变色龙。我的肤色不变，但我能改变你眼中的我的肤色。如果你对我说祖鲁语，我就回你祖鲁语。如果你对我说茨瓦纳语，我就回你茨瓦纳语。也许我和你长得不一样，但我们讲的话一样，我就和你是一伙的。
It was a wonderful experience to have, but the downside was that it sheltered me from reality. Maryvale was an oasis that kept me from the truth, a comfortable place where I could avoid making a tough decision. But the real world doesn’t go away. Racism exists. People are getting hurt, and just because it’s not happening to you doesn’t mean it’s not happening. And at some point, you have to choose. Black or white. Pick a side. You can try to hide from it. You can say, “Oh, I don’t pick sides,” but at some point life will force you to pick a side.
那是一段很棒的经历。但从另一方面看，它也让我远离了现实。玛丽威尔是一块现实沙漠中的绿洲，一个非常舒适的地方，我在那里不需要做什么困难的抉择，但在现实中，种族歧视依然存在，人们依然会因此受伤。仅仅因为它没有发生在你身上，并不意味着它就不存在。在某一个时刻，你必须要做出选择，黑人还是白人，你得站个队。你可以试着逃避，你可以说：“哦，我不站队的。”但在某个时刻，生活会强迫你站队。
Kids still got teased and bullied, but it was over usual kid stuff: being fat or being skinny, being tall or being short, being smart or being dumb. I don’t remember anybody being teased about their race. I didn’t learn to put limits on what I was supposed to like or not like. I had a wide berth to explore myself. I had crushes on white girls. I had crushes on black girls. Nobody asked me what I was. I was Trevor.
当然，小孩子之间还是会相互取笑和相互欺负，但都是因为一些幼稚的事，比如因为谁胖谁瘦、谁高谁矮、谁聪明谁笨。我不记得有任何人会因为自己的肤色而被嘲笑。我也不知道应该喜欢谁、不该喜欢谁。那里有广阔的空间让我尽情探索内心的悸动。我暗恋过白人女孩，也暗恋过黑人女孩。没人问我我是什么人。我就是特雷弗。
At the end of grade six I left Maryvale to go to H. A. Jack Primary, a government school. I had to take an aptitude test before I started, and, based on the results of the test, the school counselor told me, “You’re going to be in the smart classes, the A classes.” I showed up for the first day of school and went to my classroom. Of the thirty or so kids in my class, almost all of them were white. There was one Indian kid, maybe one or two black kids, and me.
六年级末，我离开了玛丽威尔，去H.A。杰克小学上学，这是一所公立学校。入学前我得做一个能力摸底测验，根据测验结果，学校辅导员告诉我：“你被分到了优等班，甲班。”入学那天，我走进教室，发现里面有大概30个同学，几乎全是白人，只混了一个印度小孩和一两个黑人小孩，然后就是我了。
I was eleven years old, and it was like I was seeing my country for the first time. In the townships you don’t see segregation, because everyone is black. In the white world, any time my mother took me to a white church, we were the only black people there, and my mom didn’t separate herself from anyone. She didn’t care. She’d go right up and sit with the white people. And at Maryvale, the kids were mixed up and hanging out together. Before that day, I had never seen people being together and yet not together, occupying the same space yet choosing not to associate with each other in any way. In an instant I could see, I could feel, how the boundaries were drawn. Groups moved in color patterns across the yard, up the stairs, down the hall. It was insane. I looked over at the white kids I’d met that morning. Ten minutes earlier I’d thought I was at a school where they were a majority. Now I realized how few of them there actually were compared to everyone else.
那时我已经11岁了，但好像才第一次真正认识我的国家。在小镇上，你感觉不到种族隔离，因为每个人都是黑人。在白人世界里，每次我妈带我去白人教堂，我们都是那里唯一的黑人，我妈不会把自己和别人区分开，她完全不在乎，她会径直走去和白人坐在一起。而在玛丽威尔，各种肤色的小孩都混在一起玩。在那天以前，我从来没见过人们明明在一起却又不在一起的样子，他们明明处于同一个空间之中，却选择互相不进行任何接触与交流。那一刻，我忽然看到、感觉到了人们之间存在的界限。不同肤色的孩子，按肤色组成各自的小队伍，结伴穿过操场，走上楼梯，走进大堂。这太疯狂了。我望向那天早晨遇到的白人同学。十分钟以前，我还以为他们是这个学校的主流人群。现在我才意识到，比起其他肤色的孩子，他们的人数实在是太少了。
Then recess came. We went out on the playground, and black kids were everywhere. It was an ocean of black, like someone had opened a tap and all the black had come pouring out. I was like, Where were they all hiding? The white kids I’d met that morning, they went in one direction, the black kids went in another direction, and I was left standing in the middle, totally confused. Were we going to meet up later on? I did not understand what was happening.
课间休息时，学生们都跑到了操场上，到处都是黑孩子。那里简直是黑人小孩的海洋，就好像有人打开水龙头，黑人孩子都倾泻而出。我在想，他们之前都藏到哪儿去了？那天早上遇见的白人同学们，都往一个方向跑去，而其他的黑人孩子，都向另一个方向跑去，剩我一人站在中间，摸不着头脑。我们一会儿还集合吗？我不知道发生了什么。
Through our conversation it came up that I spoke several African languages, and Theesan thought a colored kid speaking black languages was the most amazing trick. He brought me over to a group of black kids. “Say something,” he told them, “and he’ll show you he understands you.” One kid said something in Zulu, and I replied to him in Zulu. Everyone cheered. Another kid said something in Xhosa, and I replied to him in Xhosa. Everyone cheered. For the rest of recess Theesan took me around to different black kids on the playground. “Show them your trick. Do your language thing.”
在谈话中，提桑发现我可以说好几种非洲语言，觉得一个有色人种的小孩会说黑人语言简直是不可思议。他把我带到几个黑人小孩面前，对他们说：“你们随便说点儿啥，他都能懂。”一个小孩说了祖鲁语，我用祖鲁语回复他。大家一阵欢呼。另一个孩子说了句科萨语，我用科萨语回复他。大家又一阵欢呼。休息时间的后半部分，就是提桑带着我到操场上各组黑人小孩的面前显摆：“快表演一下。你能说多少语言。”
I stood there awkwardly by myself in this no-man’s-land in the middle of the playground. Luckily, I was rescued by the Indian kid from my class, a guy named Theesan Pillay. Theesan was one of the few Indian kids in school, so he’d noticed me, another obvious outsider, right away. He ran over to introduce himself. “Hello, fellow anomaly! You’re in my class. Who are you? What’s your story?” We started talking and hit it off. He took me under his wing, the Artful Dodger to my bewildered Oliver.
我站在操场的中心，一脸窘迫，身边空无一人。幸运的是，那个和我同班的印度孩子解救了我，他叫提桑·菲力。提桑是学校里唯一的印度孩子，他立刻注意到了我，因为我是除他以外另一个很显眼的局外人。他跑过来自我介绍：“你好啊，奇怪的家伙！你和我一个班。你是谁？你从哪儿来？”我们开始聊天，一拍即合。他用自己的羽翼罩着我，好像《雾都孤儿》里面的神偷道奇罩着迷惘的奥利弗。
“How come you speak our languages?” they asked.
“你怎么会说我们的语言？”他们问。
“Because I’m black,” I said, “like you.”
“因为我是黑人啊。”我说，“和你们一样。”
The black kids were fascinated. In South Africa back then, it wasn’t common to find a white person or a colored person who spoke African languages; during apartheid white people were always taught that those languages were beneath them. So the fact that I did speak African languages immediately endeared me to the black kids.
那些黑人小孩都被我迷住了。在南非，你很难找到一个白人或有色人种能说非洲语言。在种族隔离时期，人们会被灌输一种观念——本土语言是低等语言。而我能说非洲语言这件事，立刻让我获得了黑人小孩们的好感。
They were confused at first. Because of my color, they thought I was a colored person, but speaking the same languages meant that I belonged to their tribe. It just took them a moment to figure it out. It took me a moment, too.
一开始他们都很迷惑。因为我的肤色，他们觉得我是个有色人种，但是我又能和他们说一样的语言，这说明我和他们是一族的。他们想了好一会儿。我也想了好一会儿。
“You’re not black.”
“你不是黑人。”
“Yes, I am.”
“我是。”
At some point I turned to one of them and said, “Hey, how come I don’t see you guys in any of my classes?” It turned out they were in the B classes, which also happened to be the black classes. That same afternoon, I went back to the A classes, and by the end of the day I realized that they weren’t for me. Suddenly, I knew who my people were, and I wanted to be with them. I went to see the school counselor.
过了一会儿，我问他们其中一个人：“嘿，为什么我在班上看不到你们啊？”结果我发现，他们都在乙班，乙班恰好等于黑人班。那个下午，我回到甲班继续上课，到快放学的时候，我突然意识到我不属于这儿，我明白了自己属于哪一类人，而且我想和他们在一起。于是，我跑去找学校辅导员。
“No, you’re not. Have you not seen yourself?”
“不，你不是。你看不到你自己的样子吗？”
“No, there aren’t.”
“不，那儿没有。”
“You do realize the effect this will have on your future? You do understand what you’re giving up? This will impact the opportunities you’ll have open to you for the rest of your life.”
“你明不明白这个决定会影响你的未来？你明白你放弃了什么吗？这个决定会改变你后半辈子的机遇。”
We went back and forth. Finally she gave me a stern warning.
我们就这样来回拉扯。最后，她给了我一个严肃的警告。
“You don’t want to be friends with those kids.”
“你应该不会想和他们做朋友。”
“Yeah, but that class is… those kids are gonna hold you back. You want to be in the smart class.”
“是，可是那个班…那些孩子会拖你后腿。你应该留在优秀的班里。”
“But aren’t the classes the same? English is English. Math is math.”
“可是哪个班不都一样吗？都教英语，都教数学。”
“I’ll take that chance.”
“那就让我碰碰运气吧。”
“No, I don’t know. What do you mean?”
“我不知道。什么意思？”
She was confused. “Oh, no,” she said. “I don’t think you want to do that.”
她很不解：“哦，不要，我觉得你不会想换班的。”
“But all my friends are there.”
“可是我的朋友都在那儿。”
“I’d like to switch over,” I told her. “I’d like to go to the B classes.”
“我想换班，”我跟她说，“我想换到乙班。”
I moved to the B classes with the black kids. I decided I’d rather be held back with people I liked than move ahead with people I didn’t know.
我转去了乙班，和那些黑人小孩在一起。我决定，宁可被我喜欢的人拖后腿，也不想和我不认识的人一起前进。
“Look,” she said, “you’re a smart kid. You don’t want to be in that class.”
“听着，”她说，“你是个聪明的小孩。你不会想去那种班的。”
“Because those kids are… you know.”
“因为那些小孩…你知道的。”
“Yes, I do.”
“我想。”
“Why not?”
“为什么不会？”
“But surely there must be some smart kids in the B class.”
“乙班肯定也有优秀的孩子啊。”
Being at H. A. Jack made me realize I was black. Before that recess I’d never had to choose, but when I was forced to choose, I chose black. The world saw me as colored, but I didn’t spend my life looking at myself. I spent my life looking at other people. I saw myself as the people around me, and the people around me were black. My cousins are black, my mom is black, my gran is black. I grew up black. Because I had a white father, because I’d been in white Sunday school, I got along with the white kids, but I didn’t belong with the white kids. I wasn’t a part of their tribe. But the black kids embraced me. “Come along,” they said. “You’re rolling with us.” With the black kids, I wasn’t constantly trying to be. With the black kids, I just was.
在H.A。杰克小学，我才意识到我是个黑人。在那个午间休息之前，我从来不需要做这种选择，但当我必须要选的时候，我选择了黑人。整个世界看着我时，都觉得我是个有色人种，但是我一辈子又不是盯着自己看。我一辈子都在看别人，在我看来，我和我身边的人一样，而他们都是黑人。我的表兄是黑人，我妈妈是黑人，我外婆是黑人，我在黑人中长大。虽然我有个白人父亲，我上的是白人的主日学校，我能和那些白人小孩玩得来，可我并不是他们中的一员。而我虽然不属于某个黑人部落，但是黑人孩子接纳了我。“来吧，”他们对我说，“你和我们玩。”和黑人小孩在一起时，我不必总是努力去做谁。和黑孩子在一起时，我做自己就行。
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Before apartheid, any black South African who received a formal education was likely taught by European missionaries, foreign enthusiasts eager to Christianize and Westernize the natives. In the mission schools, black people learned English, European literature, medicine, the law. It’s no coincidence that nearly every major black leader of the anti-apartheid movement, from Nelson Mandela to Steve Biko, was educated by the missionaries — a knowledgeable man is a free man, or at least a man who longs for freedom.
在种族隔离以前，南非黑人接受的正规教育都是从欧洲传教士那边获得的。传教士对传播基督教文化充满热忱，希望本地原住民尽快西化。在教会学校里，黑人可以学到英文、欧洲文学、医药学以及法律。反对种族隔离运动中的每一任黑人领导，不论是纳尔逊·曼德拉还是史蒂夫·比科，都接受过传教士的教育，这并非偶然——知识使人自由，或者起码渴望自由。
The only way to make apartheid work, therefore, was to cripple the black mind. Under apartheid, the government built what became known as Bantu schools. Bantu schools taught no science, no history, no civics. They taught metrics and agriculture: how to count potatoes, how to pave roads, chop wood, till the soil. “It does not serve the Bantu to learn history and science because he is primitive,” the government said. “This will only mislead him, showing him pastures in which he is not allowed to graze.” To their credit, they were simply being honest. Why educate a slave? Why teach someone Latin when his only purpose is to dig holes in the ground?
因此，让种族隔离可行的唯一方法，就是削弱黑人的思考能力。在种族隔离制度下，政府建立了鼎鼎大名的班图学校。班图学校不教科学，不教历史，不教公民学，只教度量方法和农业知识：怎么数土豆，怎么铺路、切木头、犁地。“班图人不适合学历史和科学，他们还未开化，”政府这样说，“你给他们看一片草地，可他们又不被允许去里面吃草的话，只会误导他们。”这一点值得表扬，人家还挺诚实的。为什么要教育奴隶呢？如果一个人唯一的用途就是在地上刨坑，那教他拉丁语干啥？
Mission schools were told to conform to the new curriculum or shut down. Most of them shut down, and black children were forced into crowded classrooms in dilapidated schools, often with teachers who were barely literate themselves. Our parents and grandparents were taught with little singsong lessons, the way you’d teach a preschooler shapes and colors. My grandfather used to sing the songs and laugh about how silly they were. Two times two is four. Three times two is six. La la la la la. We’re talking about fully grown teenagers being taught this way, for generations.
教会学校收到指示，要么遵循新课程安排，要么关门。大多数教会学校都关门了，黑人小孩只好被迫挤进破旧的班图学校课堂，可那里的老师自己都不识几个字。我们的父母和祖父母都上过这种学歌谣的白痴课程，和学前班的小孩学习颜色和形状的方式差不多。我外公还记得自己学的那些歌有多傻。二乘二等于四。三乘二等于六。啦啦啦啦啦。一代一代的青壮年接受的都是这种教育。
What happened with education in South Africa, with the mission schools and the Bantu schools, offers a neat comparison of the two groups of whites who oppressed us, the British and the Afrikaners. The difference between British racism and Afrikaner racism was that at least the British gave the natives something to aspire to. If they could learn to speak correct English and dress in proper clothes, if they could Anglicize and civilize themselves, one day they might be welcome in society. The Afrikaners never gave us that option. British racism said, “If the monkey can walk like a man and talk like a man, then perhaps he is a man.” Afrikaner racism said, “Why give a book to a monkey?”
教会学校和班图学校，这两种在南非的教育模式，体现了英国人和南非白人[2]这两股白人殖民势力对待原住民的不同态度。英国种族主义和南非白人种族主义的不同在于，英国人至少给了原住民一点追求的希望。假如他们学会说标准的英语，穿合适的衣服，假如他们变得英国化，或说变得开化，终有一天他们也许可以在社会中获得一席之地。而南非白人从来没有给我们这个选择。英国种族主义说：“如果猴子能像人一样走路、说话，那么也许他就是个人。”南非白人种族主义则说：“为什么要给猴子看书？”
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