第九章: 桑葚树 The Mulberry Tree
The animosity I felt from the colored people I encountered growing up was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to deal with. It taught me that it is easier to be an insider as an outsider than to be an outsider as an insider. If a white guy chooses to immerse himself in hip-hop culture and only hang out with black people, black people will say, “Cool, white guy. Do what you need to do.” If a black guy chooses to button up his blackness to live among white people and play lots of golf, white people will say, “Fine. I like Brian. He’s safe.” But try being a black person who immerses himself in white culture while still living in the black community. Try being a white person who adopts the trappings of black culture while still living in the white community. You will face more hate and ridicule and ostracism than you can even begin to fathom. People are willing to accept you if they see you as an outsider trying to assimilate into their world. But when they see you as a fellow tribe member attempting to disavow the tribe, that is something they will never forgive. That is what happened to me in Eden Park.
来自有色人种的仇恨与敌意，是我经历过的最棘手的事，它使我认识到，身为局外人而努力变成局内人，比身为局内人但实际上却是局外人，要容易太多。如果一个白人喜欢嘻哈文化，成天和黑人厮混在一起，黑人会说：“酷，白人家伙。做你想做的吧。”如果一个黑人想要颠覆他的黑人身份，和白人厮混，成天打高尔夫球，白人会说：“好吧，我喜欢布莱恩，他很可靠。”不过试着想下，如果你是一个喜欢白人文化的黑人却依然住在黑人社区里，或者是一个醉心于黑人文化的白人却依然住在白人社区里，你将会面对超出你认知程度的恨意、嘲弄和排斥。人们愿意接纳你，只因为看你是个局外人，却在努力同化自己希望融入他们的世界。但是如果他们看你明明是同族人，却试图背叛自己的种族，他们绝对不会原谅。这就是我在伊登公园所面对的情况。
I was the anomaly wherever we lived. In Hillbrow, we lived in a white area, and nobody looked like me. In Soweto, we lived in a black area, and nobody looked like me. Eden Park was a colored area. In Eden Park, everyone looked like me, but we couldn’t have been more different. It was the biggest mindfuck I’ve ever experienced.
不论我们住在哪里，我都是那个异类。在希尔布洛，我们住在白人区，没人长得像我。在索韦托，我们住在黑人区，没人长得像我。伊登公园是有色人种区。在伊登公园，每个人长得都像我，但我们却比在其他地方更显得不同。这是我遭受过的最大的精神创伤。
At the end of our street in Eden Park, right in a bend at the top of the road, stood a giant mulberry tree growing out of someone’s front yard. Every year when it bore fruit the neighborhood kids would go and pick berries from it, eating as many as they could and filling up bags to take home. They would all play under the tree together. I had to play under the tree by myself. I didn’t have any friends in Eden Park.
在伊登公园，我们住的那条街尽头拐弯的地方，有一棵巨大的桑葚树，从某户人家的前院伸展出来。每年当它结果的时候，左邻右里的小孩都会去采桑葚，先在树下吃个够，再装满满的一袋带回家。他们所有人一起在树下玩耍。而我就一个人在树下玩。我在伊登公园没有任何朋友。
Which seems ridiculous, but it would happen. Every year under apartheid, some colored people would get promoted to white. It wasn’t a myth; it was real. People could submit applications to the government. Your hair might become straight enough, your skin might become light enough, your accent might become polished enough — and you’d be reclassified as white. All you had to do was denounce your people, denounce your history, and leave your darker-skinned friends and family behind.
这听上去很荒谬，但却是现实。种族隔离的那些年，每年都有一批有色人种会被提拔成白人。这不是虚构的故事，是真的。人们会向政府提交申请，你的头发要足够直，皮肤要足够白，口音要足够纯正——这样你就可以被改归为白人梯队。你所要做的不过是背弃你的人民，你的历史，远离你的黑皮肤朋友和家人。
When apartheid came, colored people defied easy categorization, so the system used them — quite brilliantly — to sow confusion, hatred, and mistrust. For the purposes of the state, colored people became the almost-whites. They were second-class citizens, denied the rights of white people but given special privileges that black people didn’t have, just to keep them holding out for more. Afrikaners used to call them amperbaas: “the almost-boss.” The almost-master. “You’re almost there. You’re so close. You’re this close to being white. Pity your grandfather couldn’t keep his hands off the chocolate, eh? But it’s not your fault you’re colored, so keep trying. Because if you work hard enough you can erase this taint from your bloodline. Keep on marrying lighter and whiter and don’t touch the chocolate and maybe, maybe, someday, if you’re lucky, you can become white.”
在种族隔离时期，有色人种无法被轻易归入某一类人，于是种族隔离制度就利用这一点来散播困惑、恨意和怀疑的情绪——非常机智。在政府的人种注册中，有色人种被划为“近白人”一类。他们是二等公民，没有白人的权利，但是可以享受一些黑人没有的特权，这样可以让他们更好地接受现状。南非白人曾管他们叫amperbaas，意为“近老板，近主人”。“你几乎就要达到了，就差一点儿了。你离白人就差这一点点。很可惜你的外公还是没忍住，上了个棕色人种，是吧？不过你是有色人种不是你的错，继续努力吧，如果你足够努力，就能把这个污点从血统里抹掉。和更白、肤色更浅的人通婚，不要碰棕色人种，这样也许，也许，有一天，如果你够幸运的话，你就是白人啦。”
The legal definition of a white person under apartheid was “one who in appearance is obviously a white person who is generally not accepted as a coloured person; or is generally accepted as a white person and is not in appearance obviously a white person.” It was completely arbitrary, in other words. That’s where the government came up with things like the pencil test. If you were applying to be white, the pencil went into your hair. If it fell out, you were white. If it stayed in, you were colored. You were what the government said you were. Sometimes that came down to a lone clerk eyeballing your face and making a snap decision. Depending on how high your cheekbones were or how broad your nose was, he could tick whatever box made sense to him, thereby deciding where you could live, whom you could marry, what jobs and rights and privileges you were allowed.
在法律上，种族隔离是这样定义白人的：“外表明显是白人，且通常不会被认作是有色人种；或者通常被认作是白人，但从外表上看白人特征不明显。”换句话说，这种区分方法非常随意。政府还想出了一些奇招，例如铅笔测试。如果你申请成为白人，他们会往你头发里插一根铅笔，如果铅笔滑落，你就是白人，如果卡在头发里，那你就是有色人种。政府说你是什么人你就是什么人。有的时候就是一个职员盯着你的脸打量一会儿，就能快速得出结论你是哪种人。根据你颧骨多高，鼻子多宽，他在随便哪个选项上打上几个勾，就能决定你可以住在哪个片区，可以和谁结婚，能得到怎样的工作，拥有怎样的权利，享受怎样的特权。
And colored people didn’t just get promoted to white. Sometimes colored people became Indian. Sometimes Indian people became colored. Sometimes blacks were promoted to colored, and sometimes coloreds were demoted to black. And of course whites could be demoted to colored as well. That was key. Those mixed bloodlines were always lurking, waiting to peek out, and fear of losing their status kept white people in line. If two white parents had a child and the government decided that child was too dark, even if both parents produced documentation proving they were white, the child could be classified as colored, and the family had to make a decision. Do they give up their white status to go and live as colored people in a colored area? Or would they split up, the mother taking the colored child to live in the ghetto while the father stayed white to make a living to support them?
有色人种不光能提拔成白人，有时候他们也能变成印度人。有时候印度人可能变成有色人种。有时候黑人可以提拔成有色人种，有时候有色人种会被降级为黑人。当然，白人也有可能被降级为有色人种。这很关键。那些混合的血统因子潜伏在体内，生怕露出马脚，丢失白人的基因特征和身份特权。如果一对白人夫妻生下了一个小孩，而政府认为这个小孩的肤色过黑，哪怕夫妻俩都有文件证明自己是白人，小孩也会被归为有色人种，这个家庭就要做出一个艰难的决定。他们是要放弃自己的白人身份，降级为有色人种，住到有色人种聚居区去？还是说他们不得不分开，母亲带着小孩去有色人种聚居区生活，父亲留在白人区赚钱，供养妻子和孩子呢？
That’s what apartheid did: It convinced every group that it was because of the other race that they didn’t get into the club. It’s basically the bouncer at the door telling you, “We can’t let you in because of your friend Darren and his ugly shoes.” So you look at Darren and say, “Screw you, Black Darren. You’re holding me back.” Then when Darren goes up, the bouncer says, “No, it’s actually your friend Sizwe and his weird hair.” So Darren says, “Screw you, Sizwe,” and now everyone hates everyone. But the truth is that none of you were ever getting into that club.
种族隔离就是这么做的，它让每个种族相信，是因为其他种族的缘故，自己才不能进俱乐部的门。就好像门口的保镖跟你说：“我们不能让你进来，因为你的朋友达伦在旁边，而且他的鞋很丑。”于是你看着达伦，说：“去你的，黑人达伦。你拖了我的后腿。”然后达伦反击说：“去你的，斯威。”现在所有人开始怨恨所有人了。但是事实是，你们中任何一个原本也进不了俱乐部。
Many colored people lived in this limbo, a true purgatory, always yearning for the white fathers who disowned them, and they could be horribly racist to one another as a result. The most common colored slur was boesman. “Bushman.” “Bushie.” Because it called out their blackness, their primitiveness. The worst way to insult a colored person was to infer that they were in some way black. One of the most sinister things about apartheid was that it taught colored people that it was black people who were holding them back. Apartheid said that the only reason colored people couldn’t have first-class status was because black people might use coloredness to sneak past the gates to enjoy the benefits of whiteness.
很多有色人种都活在这种混沌之下，这才是真正的炼狱。他们一边渴望着那些已经和自己脱离关系的白人父亲，另一方面又深深地歧视着彼此。对于有色人种最常见的蔑称就是布须曼人，意为“丛林人”。这个称号体现了他们的皮肤颜色和他们血统中原始的那部分东西。对有色人种最大的侮辱就是指出他们的某方面像黑人。种族隔离最阴险的做法是让有色人种觉得是黑人拖了他们的后退。种族隔离制度说，有色人种没法成为一等公民的唯一原因，就是黑人会利用这种肤色悄悄越界，获取属于白人的利益。
Colored people had it rough. Imagine: You’ve been brainwashed into believing that your blood is tainted. You’ve spent all your time assimilating and aspiring to whiteness. Then, just as you think you’re closing in on the finish line, some fucking guy named Nelson Mandela comes along and flips the country on its head. Now the finish line is back where the starting line was, and the benchmark is black. Black is in charge. Black is beautiful. Black is powerful. For centuries colored people were told: Blacks are monkeys. Don’t swing from the trees like them. Learn to walk upright like the white man. Then all of a sudden it’s Planet of the Apes, and the monkeys have taken over.
有色人种的日子并不好过。试想一下：你已经被洗脑了，认为自己的血统有污点。你把自己所有的时间精力都花在模仿白人上，努力成为他们中的一员。然后，就在你快要抵达终点线的时候，有个叫纳尔逊·曼德拉的混蛋，突然颠覆了整个国家的思维。现在终点线变成了早先的起始点，而评判准则变成了黑人。黑人尽在掌握。黑人是美的。黑人是强大的。几个世纪以来，有色人种都被告知：黑人是猴子，不要再跟他们一样在树上跳来跳去，要像白人那样直立行走。现在突然之间，一切仿佛变成了人猿星球，猴子接管了一切。
So you can imagine how weird it was for me. I was mixed but not colored — colored by complexion but not by culture. Because of that I was seen as a colored person who didn’t want to be colored.
所以你大概可以想到我的情况有多诡异了。我是混血儿，但我不是有色人种——在肤色上我是，文化上不是。因为这样，我被视作了一个不想成为有色人种的有色人种。
In Eden Park, I encountered two types of colored people. Some colored people hated me because of my blackness. My hair was curly and I was proud of my Afro. I spoke African languages and loved speaking them. People would hear me speaking Xhosa or Zulu and they’d say, “Wat is jy? ‘n Boesman?” “What are you, a Bushman?” Why are you trying to be black? Why do you speak that click-click language? Look at your light skin. You’re almost there and you’re throwing it away.
在伊登公园，我遭遇了两类有色人种。一种人因为我身上有黑人的特征而恨我。我的头发是卷的，而且我以这种圆蓬发型为傲。我说非洲语言，而且很喜欢说。人们听到我说科萨语或祖鲁语，会问：“Wat is jy？ ‘n Boesman？”——你是谁？布须曼（丛林人）？为什么你想做黑人？为什么你要说那种带吸气音的语言[4]？看看你的浅色皮肤吧，你就快要变成白人了，但你却放弃了。
I was completely shocked. Oh, wow, I thought, I made a friend.
我完全傻了。哦，哇哦，我心想，我交到朋友了。
Even when I thought I was liked, I wasn’t. One year I got a brand-new bike during the summer holidays. My cousin Mlungisi and I were taking turns riding around the block. I was riding up our street when this cute colored girl came out to the road and stopped me. She smiled and waved to me sweetly.
就算那时我心里以为大家会喜欢我，但现实并非如此。有一年暑假，我有了一辆全新的自行车。我的表兄穆隆格斯和我会换着骑，在周围转悠。有一次我正在街上骑着，一个很可爱的有色人种女孩跑过来拦住了我。她冲我甜甜地笑着，摆着手。
“Hey,” she said, “can I ride your bike?”
“嘿，”她说，“我可以骑你的车吗？”
Other colored people hated me because of my whiteness. Even though I identified as being black, I had a white father. I went to an English private school. I’d learned to get along with white people at church. I could speak perfect English, and I barely spoke Afrikaans, the language colored people were supposed to speak. So colored people thought that I thought I was better than them. They would mock my accent, like I was putting on airs. “Dink jy, jy is grênd?” “You think you’re high class?”– uppity, people would say in America.
其他的有色人种恨我，是因为我身上有白人特征。哪怕我认定自己是黑人，我还是有个白人父亲。我上过英文私立学校。我知道在教堂怎么和白人相处。我的英语流利，而且我几乎不会说南非荷兰语，而这是有色人种应该说的语言。所以有色人种觉得我认为自己比他们优越。他们会模仿我的口音，好像我在摆架子一样。“Dink jy， jy is grênd？”——你以为你很高级是不？——自命不凡，要是在美国，他们会用这个词说我。
I got off and she got on and rode about twenty or thirty feet. Some random older kid came running up to the street, she stopped and got off, and he climbed on and rode away. I was so happy that a girl had spoken to me that it didn’t fully sink in that they’d stolen my bicycle. I ran back home, smiling and skipping along. My cousin asked where the bicycle was. I told him.
我下了车，她跨上我的车，往前骑了大概六七米的样子，一个不知从哪儿冒出来的大孩子跑到街上，她停住，然后下车，那个大孩子跨上我的车骑走了。由于居然有女孩主动和我讲话，我当时高兴得不得了，完全没想到他们偷了我的车。我跑回家，一路跳着笑着。我表兄问我自行车去哪儿了，我告诉了他事情经过。
“Yeah, of course,” I said.
“可以，当然可以。”我说。
“Trevor, you’ve been robbed,” he said. “Why didn’t you chase them?”
“特雷弗，你被抢劫了，”他说，“你怎么不追他们？”
Mlungisi was older, my protector. He ran off and found the kids, and thirty minutes later he came back with my bike.
穆隆格斯比我大，他可以罩着我。他冲出去找到了那群小孩，30分钟后，他就带着我的自行车回来了。
“I thought they were being nice. I thought I’d made a friend.”
“我以为他们在向我示好。我以为我交了个朋友。”
Things like that happened a lot. I was bullied all the time. The incident at the mulberry tree was probably the worst of them. Late one afternoon I was playing by myself like I always did, running around the neighborhood. This group of five or six colored boys was up the street picking berries off the mulberry tree and eating them. I went over and started picking some to take home for myself. The boys were a few years older than me, around twelve or thirteen. They didn’t talk to me, and I didn’t talk to them. They were speaking to one another in Afrikaans, and I could understand what they were saying. Then one of them, this kid who was the ringleader of the group, walked over. “Mag ek jou moerbeie sien?” “Can I see your mulberries?” My first thought, again, was, Oh, cool. I made a friend. I held up my hand and showed him my mulberries. Then he knocked them out of my hand and smushed them into the ground. The other kids started laughing. I stood there and looked at him a moment. By that point I’d developed thick skin. I was used to being bullied. I shrugged it off and went back to picking berries.
像这样的事常常发生，我总是被欺负。在桑葚树下发生的那次应该是最严重的。有一天傍晚，我像往常一样自己在周围跑着玩。在街角的桑葚树下，有五六个男孩子正在采桑葚吃。我也走过去开始采，想带回家吃。那些男孩比我要大几岁，十二三岁的样子。他们不和我说话，我也不和他们说话。他们彼此说着南非荷兰语，我能听懂他们在说什么。其中一个男孩向我走来，他是里面的小头头。“Mag ek jou moerbeie sien？”——我能看看你的桑葚吗？我的第一反应就是，哦，赞，我交到朋友了。我双手捧起，给他看我刚采的桑葚。他一把将桑葚从我手中打到地上，然后踩得稀烂。其他小孩开始大笑。我站在原地，看了他一会儿，这时我已经脸皮很厚，对这些欺凌行为已然习惯，于是我耸耸肩，继续去采桑葚了。
When I ran inside I looked like I’d been beaten to a pulp because I was bawling my eyes out and was covered in red-purple berry juice. My mother looked at me, horrified.
当我跑到家里，我看上去就像是被人揍得遍体鳞伤，因为我正在号啕大哭，而且浑身上下都是紫红色的桑葚汁。我母亲看着我，吓坏了。
Then, in a split second, before I could even react, all of these kids started pelting me with berries, pelting the shit out of me. Some of the berries weren’t ripe, and they stung like rocks. I tried to cover my face with my hands, but there was a barrage coming at me from all sides. They were laughing and pelting me and calling me names. “Bushie! Bushman!” I was terrified. Just the suddenness of it, I didn’t know what to do. I started crying, and I ran. I ran for my life, all the way back down the road to our house.
然后，刹那间，我还来不及反应，所有的小孩都开始用桑葚砸我，打得我屁滚尿流。有些桑葚还没有成熟，和石子一样坚硬。我试图用双手护住脸，但是炮火从各个方向袭来。他们一边打我一边笑，一边骂着我：“丛林人！布须曼！”我吓坏了。突然之间，我不知道该怎么办。我开始大哭，然后狂奔，没命地狂奔，直接跑回了家。
Clearly not getting the reaction he wanted, this kid started cursing me out. “Fok weg, jou onnosele Boesman!” “Get the fuck out of here! Go away, you stupid Bushie! Bushman!” I ignored him and went on about my business. Then I felt a splat! on the back of my head. He’d hit me with a mulberry. It wasn’t painful, just startling. I turned to look at him and, splat!, he hit me again, right in my face.
但很显然，他没有等到预想中我的反应，这个小孩开始咒骂我。“Fok weg， jou onnosele Boesman！”——滚出去！滚，你这个该死的丛林人！布须曼！我没理他，继续做我的事。突然，我感到后脑勺上“啪”地一下。他用一颗桑葚砸我，倒是不疼，但让我吃了一惊。我转过头看着他，“啪！”他又打过来，这次正打在我脸上。
“No, no, Trevor,” she said. “I’m not laughing because it’s funny. I’m laughing out of relief. I thought you’d been beaten up. I thought this was blood. I’m laughing because it’s only berry juice.”
“不是，不是，特雷弗，”她说。“我笑不是因为这件事好笑。我是松了口气。我以为你被打伤了。我以为这些都是血渍。我笑是因为这些只是桑葚汁。”
My mom thought everything was funny. There was no subject too dark or too painful for her to tackle with humor. “Look on the bright side,” she said, laughing and pointing to the half of me covered in dark berry juice. “Now you really are half black and half white.”
我妈妈觉得所有的事都好笑。面对再黑暗、再痛苦的事，她都能用幽默化解。“试着想想好的一面，”她笑着，指着半身满是桑葚汁的我。“你现在真的是一半黑一半白了。”
In between sobs I told her the story. “These kids… the mulberry tree… they threw berries at me…” When I finished, she burst out laughing. “It’s not funny!” I said.
我一边抽泣，一边告诉她事情经过。“那些小孩…桑葚树…他们向我扔桑葚…”等我说完，她开始大笑。“这不好笑！”我说。
Half an hour later, Abel showed up. At that point Abel was still my mom’s boyfriend. He wasn’t trying to be my father or even a stepfather, really. He was more like a big brother than anything. He’d joke around with me, have fun. I didn’t know him that well, but one thing I did know about him was that he had a temper. Very charming when he wanted to be, incredibly funny, but fuck he could be mean. He’d grown up in the homelands, where you had to fight to survive. Abel was big, too, around six-foot-three, long and lean. He hadn’t hit my mom yet. He hadn’t hit me yet, either. But I knew he was dangerous. I’d seen it. Someone would cut us off in traffic. Abel would yell out the window. The other guy would honk and yell back. In a flash Abel would be out of our car, over to theirs, grabbing the guy through the driver’s-side window, screaming in his face, raising a fist. You’d see the other guy panic. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
半个小时后，亚伯来了。那时候亚伯还只是我妈妈的男朋友，还没有试图想当我的父亲或继父，他更像是一位大哥，会跟我开玩笑，玩闹。我还不太了解他，但我知道他有脾气。如果他愿意，他可以变得很迷人，特别搞笑，但同时，他也能变得很坏。他在黑人家园长大，而在那里，你只有靠打架才能生存下去。亚伯个子也高，身高一米九，身材修长。那时他还没打过我妈，也没打过我。但我知道他很危险。我能看出来。如果有人在路上抢了我们的车道，亚伯会从车窗向外大喊，对方也会鸣笛，冲我们喊吼回来。眨眼间，亚伯就已经下车，瞬移到那辆车前，从驾驶员一侧的窗口揪住那个司机，在他面前大吼，并扬起拳头。你能明显看出另一个人的恐慌。“对不起，对不起。”
“What happened?”
“出什么事了？”
“It’s not funny!”
“这不好笑！”
“Trevor, you’re okay,” she said. “Go and wash up. You’re not hurt. You’re hurt emotionally. But you’re not hurt.”
“特雷弗，你没事的，”她说，“去洗干净。你没受伤。你心里难受，但你身上没有受伤。”
When Abel walked in that night, he sat down on the couch and saw that I’d been crying.
那晚亚伯走进房里，坐在沙发上后，看出来我好像哭过。
“What happened?” he said.
“发生什么事了？”他问我。
“It’s nothing,” she said.
“没什么。”我妈说。
I started to explain. My mother cut me off. “Don’t tell him,” she said. She knew what would happen. She knew better than me.
我刚要解释，我妈就打断了我。“别跟他说。”她对我说。她知道我说了之后会发生什么。她比我更明白。
“Don’t tell me what?” Abel said.
“别告诉我什么？”亚伯问。
I told him the story, the names they called me, the way they attacked me. My mother kept laughing it off, telling me to get over it, that it was kids being kids, no big deal. She was trying to defuse the situation, but I couldn’t see that. I was just mad at her. “You think it’s a joke, but it’s not funny! It’s not funny!”
我给他讲了整件事，他们咒骂我时用的是哪个词，他们是怎么打我的。其间，我母亲一直笑着打断我，告诉我忘了吧，孩子就是孩子，没什么大不了的。她一直在试图缓和当时的气氛，但是我看不出来，我只是在生她的气。“你觉得这是个笑话，但这一点儿都不好笑！这不好笑！”
Abel was getting frustrated. “What? Don’t tell me what?”
亚伯开始不耐烦了。“什么？别告诉我什么？”
“It’s not nothing,” I said.
“不是没什么。”我说。
She glared at me. “Don’t tell him.”
她瞪向我。“别告诉他。”
He’d been drinking; he never came home from work sober, and the drinking always made his temper worse. It was strange, but in that moment I realized that if I said the right things I could get him to step in and do something. We were almost family, and I knew if I made him feel like his family had been insulted, he’d help me get back at the boys. I knew he had a demon inside him, and I hated that; it terrified me how violent and dangerous he was when he snapped. But in that moment I knew exactly what I had to say to get the monster on my side.
他喝过酒。他没有哪次下班回家时是清醒的，而喝酒只会让他的脾气更糟。奇怪的是，在那一刻我意识到，如果我把事情说出来，我就能让他介入其中，做点儿什么。我们几乎是一家人了，我知道如果我让他觉得他的家人被羞辱了，他会帮我去找那群孩子报仇。我知道他身体内藏着一个魔鬼，而且我也痛恨这一点；他发起火来那种暴力和危险的样子，总会让我感到恐惧。但在那个时刻，我很清楚，我说的话可以让这头猛兽站到我这边来帮我。
“Take me to these boys,” he said.
“带我去找那些小子。”他说。
Abel wasn’t laughing. As I told him what the bullies had done, I could see the anger building up inside him. With Abel’s anger, there was no ranting and raving, no clenched fists. He sat there on the couch listening to me, not saying a word. Then, very calm and deliberate, he stood up.
亚伯全程没有笑。我讲完事情的全部经过后，感觉到他体内的怒火在升腾。亚伯发怒的时候不会大声叫嚷，也不会捏紧拳头。他只是坐在沙发上听我讲着，一言不发。然后，他非常平静又从容地站了起来。
Yes, I thought, this is it. Big brother is going to get my revenge for me.
好了，我想，这就对了。老大哥要帮我报仇了。
We got into his car and drove up the road, stopping a few houses down from the tree. It was dark now except for the light from the streetlamps, but we could see the boys were still there, playing under the tree. I pointed to the ringleader. “That one. He was the main one.” Abel slammed his foot on the gas and shot up onto the grass and straight toward the bottom of the tree. He jumped out. I jumped out. As soon as the kids saw me they knew exactly what was happening. They scattered and ran like hell.
我们坐上他的车，一路开到离那棵桑葚树只隔了几栋房子远的地方。当时天已经黑了，只有路灯亮着，但我们看到那些男孩还在那里，在树下玩耍。我指着那个小头目，说：“那个男孩，他是带头的。”亚伯猛踩油门，直接开上草地，冲到那棵树底下。他跳下车，我也跳下车。那群小孩一看到我，就明白要发生什么了，于是四下散开，开始没命地逃。
Abel was quick. Good Lord, he was fast. The ringleader had made a dash for it and was trying to climb over a wall. Abel grabbed him, pulled him down, and dragged him back. Then he stripped a branch off the tree, a switch, and started whipping him. He whipped the shit out of him, and I loved it. I have never enjoyed anything as much as I enjoyed that moment. Revenge truly is sweet. It takes you to a dark place, but, man, it satisfies a thirst.
亚伯很快。老天，他可真是快。那个小头目已经一阵猛冲，快要逃掉了，但他正要翻墙时，亚伯抓住了他，一把把他扯下来，然后拖回了树下。亚伯从树上折了一根枝条做鞭子，开始抽他，把他抽得屁滚尿流，而我在一边很享受。我从未享受过比那一刻更爽的感觉。复仇是甜蜜的。虽然它会把你拖入一个黑暗的境地，但是老天，这真的让人很满足。
Then there was the strangest moment where it flipped. I caught a glimpse of the look of terror in the boy’s face, and I realized that Abel had gone past getting revenge for me. He wasn’t doing this to teach the kid a lesson. He was just beating him. He was a grown man venting his rage on a twelve-year-old boy. In an instant I went from Yes, I got my revenge to No, no, no. Too much. Too much. Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. Dear God, what have I done?
突然，我心里闪过了奇怪的一瞬。那个瞬间，我瞄到了那男孩脸上的恐惧，我意识到，亚伯的行为已经超过了要给我复仇这件事的限度。他不是在教训这个男生，而是在殴打他。作为一个成年人，他正在朝一个12岁的男孩发泄自己的怒火。从那个瞬间开始，我想法从“真好，我报仇了”，变成了“不不不不，过了，过了，哦天，哦天，哦天，老天啊，我都干了什么”？
Once this kid was beat to shit, Abel dragged him over to the car and held him up in front of me. “Say you’re sorry.” The kid was whimpering, trembling. He looked me in the eye, and I had never seen fear in someone’s eyes like I saw in his. He’d been beaten by a stranger in a way I don’t think he’d ever been beaten before. He said he was sorry, but it was like his apology wasn’t for what he’d done to me. It was like he was sorry for every bad thing he’d ever done in his life, because he didn’t know there could be a punishment like this.
在痛扁了这个小孩一顿后，亚伯把他拖到车附近，揪着他站在我面前。“道歉。”那个孩子一边抽泣，一边发抖地看着我的眼睛。我从未在一个人的眼中见过这么深的恐惧。他刚刚被一个陌生人打了一顿，我猜他长这么大都没挨过这样的揍。他对我说对不起，但好像并不是在为下午欺负我的事而道歉，而是在为这一生中干过的所有坏事道歉，因为他完全不知道，世上还会有这样的惩罚存在。
Looking in that boy’s eyes, I realized how much he and I had in common. He was a kid. I was a kid. He was crying. I was crying. He was a colored boy in South Africa, taught how to hate and how to hate himself. Who had bullied him that he needed to bully me? He’d made me feel fear, and to get my revenge I’d unleashed my own hell on his world. But I knew I’d done a terrible thing.
看着那个孩子的眼睛，我意识到他和我之间的共同之处。他是小孩，我也是小孩。他在哭，我也在哭。他是个生在南非的有色人种，生下来就被人教会了如何去仇恨别人，如何去仇恨自己。他曾经也被谁这样欺负过，所以他才想要来欺负我。他让我感到过害怕，而为了复仇，我把自己的地狱回敬给了他。但我知道，我干了一件很可怕的事。
A couple of hours later this kid’s dad drove over to our house to confront Abel. Abel went out to the gate, and I watched from inside the house. By that point Abel was truly drunk. This kid’s dad had no idea what he was walking into. He was some mild-mannered, middle-aged guy. I don’t remember much about him, because I was watching Abel the whole time. I never took my eyes off him. I knew that’s where the danger was.
几小时后，那个孩子的父亲开车来我们家找亚伯算账。亚伯走到门口，我从家里往外看。在那一刻，亚伯真的醉了。那个孩子的爸爸完全不知道自己将要面对的是怎样的人。那个父亲看上去就是个好脾气的中年人。我不太记得他的样子，因为我全程都紧盯着亚伯，眼睛一刻都不敢从他身上挪开。我知道，他才是真正的危险。
Abel didn’t have a gun yet; he bought that later. But Abel didn’t need a gun to put the fear of God in you. I watched as he got right in this guy’s face. I couldn’t hear what the other man was saying, but I heard Abel. “Don’t fuck with me. I will kill you.” The guy turned quickly and got back in his car and drove away. He thought he was coming to defend the honor of his family. He left happy to escape with his life.
那时亚伯还没有枪，他的枪是后来才买的。但是亚伯不用枪也能令你感到恐惧。我看着他径直走到那男的面前。我听不清那个男人说了什么，但我听清了亚伯的声音。“别惹我。否则我杀了你。”那男人立刻转身跑回车里，开走了。他原以为是来捍卫家人的荣誉，但跑掉的时候，肯定很庆幸自己捡回了一条命。
Once the kid apologized, Abel shoved him away and kicked him. “Go.” The kid ran off, and we drove back to the house in silence. At home Abel and my mom got in a huge fight. She was always on him about his temper. “You can’t go around hitting other people’s children! You’re not the law! This anger, this is no way to live!”
那小孩道歉之后，亚伯推开他，并踹了他一脚。“滚。”那小孩跑了，我们开车回家时，一路无言。回家后，亚伯和我妈妈大吵了一架。她总是因为亚伯的脾气和他吵架。“你不能这样直接去打别人家的孩子！你又不是法律！你的脾气，这没法过了！”
“Trevor, remember a man is not determined by how much he earns. You can still be the man of the house and earn less than your woman. Being a man is not what you have, it’s who you are. Being more of a man doesn’t mean your woman has to be less than you.”
“特雷弗，记住，一个男人的价值不是由他赚多少钱决定的。哪怕你比你的女人赚的少，你依然是当家的男人。不是说你要成为一个男人，你本来就是个男人。成为男人并不意味着什么都要多过你的女人。”
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When I was growing up, my mom spent a lot of time trying to teach me about women. She was always giving me lessons, little talks, pieces of advice. It was never a full-blown, sit-down lecture about relationships. It was more like tidbits along the way. And I never understood why, because I was a kid. The only women in my life were my mom and my grandmother and my aunt and my cousin. I had no love interest whatsoever, yet my mom insisted. She would go off on a whole range of things.
随着我慢慢长大，我妈开始花大量的时间教我关于女人的事。她总是要给我上上课、谈谈心，给点儿小建议。但都不是那种正式的、需要坐下来严肃对待的感情关系课，而更像是时不时穿插的小花边爆料。我从来不懂为什么她要这样做，我还只是个孩子。我生命里的女人只有我妈、我外婆、我姨妈和我的表兄妹。我还没有恋爱的兴趣，但是我妈坚持要教我。而且她教授的内容范围很广。
“Trevor, make sure your woman is the woman in your life. Don’t be one of these men who makes his wife compete with his mother. A man with a wife cannot be beholden to his mother.”
“特雷弗，记住，你的女人就是你生命里的唯一。别变成那些让自己的老婆和自己的妈作对的男人。一个有了老婆的男人并不欠自己的妈什么。”
The smallest thing could prompt her. I’d walk through the house on the way to my room and say, “Hey, Mom” without glancing up. She’d say, “No, Trevor! You look at me. You acknowledge me. Show me that I exist to you, because the way you treat me is the way you will treat your woman. Women like to be noticed. Come and acknowledge me and let me know that you see me. Don’t just see me when you need something.”
再小的事都会激发她来给我上课。如果我走回房间的半路上遇到她，没有抬眼就说了句“嘿，妈”，她就会说：“不，特雷弗！你得看着我。你得承认我的存在，得表现出来，你看到我人在这里，因为你现在怎么对我，将来就会怎么对你的女人。女人需要被关注。你得过来跟我打招呼，让我知道你看到我了。不要只是在你需要什么的时候，才看得到我。”
“Trevor, don’t forget: You’re having sex with a woman in her mind before you’re having sex with her in her vagina.”
“特雷弗，别忘了：在和女人的阴道发生关系之前，你要先和她的大脑发生关系。”
These little lessons were always about grown-up relationships, funnily enough. She was so preoccupied with teaching me how to be a man that she never taught me how to be a boy. How to talk to a girl or pass a girl a note in class — there was none of that. She only told me about adult things. She would even lecture me about sex. As I was a kid, that would get very awkward.
搞笑的是，这些小课程都是关于成人感情关系的。她如此投入地教我如何做一个男人，但是她从未教我怎么做一个男孩。怎么和女孩说话，怎么在课堂上给女生传纸条——从没教过我。她只会给我讲大人的事，甚至给我上关于性知识的课。当我还是个孩子的时候，我感觉超级尴尬。
“Trevor, foreplay begins during the day. It doesn’t begin in the bedroom.”
“特雷弗，前戏从白天的时候就开始了。前戏不是你进入卧室以后才开始。”
I’d be like, “What? What is foreplay? What does that even mean?”
我会说：“啥？前戏是啥？这都是什么意思啊？”
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