Chapter 8 The Fifth Farewell to the Manor｜2

hill mausoleum Dai Nisi came back from hunting and stayed in the manor for a while.When I started packing up the house and packing, he couldn't stay any longer and moved to Nairobisius.Martin's house.From there he drove to the estate every day and had dinner with me until I auctioned off the furniture.We sat on one wooden box and chatted, and ate on another.We sat until late at night. There were times when we talked as if I was about to leave Kenya.Dennis regards Africa as his hometown.No one knows me better than him.He consoled me, though he also laughed at how sad I was to say goodbye to the people at the estate.

Do you think you can't live without the land of Xilongga Manor.He said. Yes.I replied. But most of the time, we act as if the future doesn't exist.His way of being a man is never worrying about the future, it seems that he has a bottom line in his heart, and if he needs to, he can draw on unknown strengths.He naturally coincides with my ideas, let things happen naturally, and people, let them think and talk.It is not unusual for him to come to the manor, and we have the same taste.We're in an empty house, sitting on packing boxes.He quoted me a poem: you should play the sad ditty

Variations to a melody of joy I never come out of mercy I'm here for joy During those weeks we often flew high over the Nge Mountains or circled low over the safari park.One morning, Dennis came to the manor early to pick me up for the flight.Just as the sun was rising, we saw a lion on the grassland at the southern foot of Ngo Mountain. He is always talking about sorting out and binding up the books that have been stored in my place for many years, but he just talks and doesn't put it into action. You keep these books, he said, I have nowhere to put them now. He couldn't make up his mind at all what he would do once my house was sealed up.Once, under the repeated persuasion of his friends, he made a trip to Nairobi to see the bungalows there for rent.He came back rather depressed and would not speak of the house he had seen.At dinner, when he began to tell me about the houses and furniture there, he unexpectedly stopped talking, remained silent, and looked very impatient with a gloomy face.The concept of running around for survival is intolerable to him.

However, his dissatisfaction was purely an objective, impersonal emotion.He forgot that he himself was determined to be a part of existence.When I was talking about this, he cut me off. Well, as for me, I am perfectly happy to live in a tent in the Masai reserve, or in a borrowed house in the village of Somalia. But this time, for the first time, he talked about my future in Europe.He thought I would be happier there than at the estate, because I was out of the kind of civilization we had in Africa. You know, he went on, in this continent of Africa, there's a lot of sarcasm and sarcasm, and it's very impersonal.

Dennis owned a piece of land by the sea, on Takaonga Bay, thirty miles north of Mombasa.There is the ruins of an ancient Arab settlement, with a rustic minaret, a water well, weathered and eroded gray stones on the saline-alkali ground, and a few old mango trees scattered among them.Dennis built a cottage on his land, and I used to live there.There is a scene of the sea: clear and divine, and desolate and barren.In front of you is the blue Indian Ocean, on the south side of you is the deep Takaonga Bay, and in the extreme, there is a long and steep coastline, which is composed of light gray and yellowish coral rocks.

When the tide is low, you can walk for miles in the sea when you come out of the hut, as if you are in a vast, unleveled square, full of shells and starfish with long sharp corners.Swahili fishermen hang around here, wearing loincloths and red or blue turbans, just like Sinbad the sailor. 】Rebirth.Fishermen sell you colorful, spiky fish, some of which are delicious.The waterfront below the cabins has a row of tidal caves where you can sit in the shade and look out over the shimmering blue waters in the distance.When the sea was at high tide, the sea flooded the cave and overflowed to the ground outside the hut.In the porous coral stone the sea sings and sighs in the strangest ways.You will feel that the ground under your feet seems to be alive.And the rows of waves rushed to the bay, like a storm army.

During my short stay in Takaonga Bay, the moon was full.Those moonlit nights are quiet and beautiful, so fascinating.When you sleep, you open your door to the sea, and the warm wind, whispering, blows over the soft sand and onto the stone floor.One night, several Arabian sailboats approached the coast, riding the monsoon, sailing quietly, a row of brown sails silhouetted in the moonlight. Dennis has talked of making Takaonga his home in Africa, from where he will go hunting in the wild.When I mentioned that I had to leave the estate, he was going to give me the house in Takaonga, because he had lived in my house in the plateau.But white people don't live long on the seashore unless there are many comforts of home, and it's too low and too hot for me.

In May of the year I left Africa, Denis went to Takaonga for a week.He planned to build a big house on that land and plant some mango trees.He flew away, taking a detour through the Foy region to see if there were any elephants to hunt.The aborigines have always said that a group of African elephants migrated from the west in the Foy area, and they specifically mentioned that there was a big male elephant, which was twice the size of the other elephants, and moved alone in the wilderness of Foy. Dennis has always claimed to be an out-and-out rationalist, but he is swayed by some special emotions and auras.Under the influence of these moods and auras, he was sometimes depressed for days, or even weeks, although he did not feel it himself.If I asked him what was on his mind, he would be surprised.He was in this state of absent-mindedness, as if lost in meditation, during the first few days of his journey to the sea, and when I reminded him he laughed at me.

I begged him to take me with me, how wonderful it would be to be in the air overlooking the sea.At first, he agreed, but later changed his mind and said no, he couldn't take me there.He told me that the journey around Foy was difficult, that he had to get off the plane and sleep in the wild, so he needed to take an Aboriginal servant with him.I reminded him that he had promised to fly me over Africa.He said, yes, he said that.If there were elephants in Foy, he would fly with me when he knew where to land and camp.This was the only time Dennis refused to take me on the same plane as him.

He left the estate on Friday 8th May. Came out to pick me up next Thursday, and when he left he said, I'll be back in time to have lunch with you. He started the car and went down the driveway to the airport in Nairobi, but turned back after a while, looking for a book of poems he had given me, and wanted to take it with him.He stood, with one foot on the car pedal, pointing at the pages of the book, and recited to me a poem we often admired during that time. Listen, you gray swan.he said and remembered I saw a flock of gray swans flying over the prairie They are full of vitality in the sky

through layers of blue sky, neck up with an unyielding soul Hang up the gray and white badge for Cang Yu rolling hills The sun radiates rays of light After reciting, he waved his hand and drove away. Dennis broke a propeller while flying down in Mombasa.He telegraphed Nairobi to get him the accessories he needed.East African Airways sent a valet to deliver the spare parts to Mombasa.After Dainis installed it, he wanted to board the plane again and asked the valet to fly back to Nairobi with him, but the man refused to go with him.He often flies with many pilots, and before that he also flew with Dennis.Dainis is an excellent pilot, not only famous among the pilots, but also among the natives.But this time, the servants were unwilling to fly with him. A long time later, the errand met Farah in Nairobi, and said to Farah during the chat: That time, I would not fly with Mr. Beda even if I offered one hundred rupees.The harbinger that Denis, the shadow of fate, felt in the last days of En Ge Manor, was now more clearly perceived by a native. So Dennis flew to Foy with his servant Kamau.Poor Kamau is terrified of flying.At the estate, he told me that when he lifted off the ground and rose into the air, he kept his eyes on his feet until the plane touched down.He had only to glance over the side of the plane and see the earth below, and he would be terrified to death. On Thursday, I went out to pick up Dennis, and I calculated in my mind that he took off from Foy at sunrise and flew to Engo Manor, which would take about two hours.But he didn't come.It happened that I had something to do in Nairobi, so I drove into the city. Whenever I was in Africa, whenever I was sick or frightened about something, I was always tormented by some strange whim.At such moments, it seems as if everything around me is in jeopardy or chaos.In this misfortune, I myself have somehow been on the wrong side, and I have been distrusted and feared by everyone. These nightmares are actually some old memories of the First World War.During that period, for a year or two, I was considered a pro-German in the minds of Kenyans, so there was a lack of trust in me.Their suspicions arose from the fact that, shortly before the outbreak of the war, I had bought horses for General Frieden in German East Africa in the Lake Ivancia area.When we came to Africa together six months ago, he asked me to buy him ten Ethiopian mares.But when I first arrived in Kenya, I had many other things to worry about.Forget about it.Not long ago, he wrote to me one after another, and I left for Ivancia to buy horses for him.But then, the war broke out, and mares could no longer be transported to Kenya.Still, I can't get over the fact that I bought horses for the German army at the outbreak of war.However, my suspicions did not last until the end of the war.My brother volunteered for the British Army and was awarded the Victorian Red Cross at the Battle of Yamins, north of Royer theater.This success also cleared my suspicions. The "East African Standard" also carried the news with the headline "A Winner of the East African Cross". At the time, I didn't care about my isolation, because I had nothing to do with Germany; if necessary, I could clarify the truth.But after all, this kind of encounter had a profound impact on me, far beyond my perception.Years later, whenever I was overtired or had a high fever, this suspected sense of loneliness would recur.In my last months in Africa, when things were not going my way, this feeling would sometimes come over me suddenly, like a black fog, and in a way it made me shudder, like the fear of some kind of insanity. I was in Nairobi on Thursday and this nightmare came again unexpectedly and so intensely that I wondered if I was starting to lose my mind.Somehow, Nairobi, and the people I met, had a sense of deep sadness.And in this atmosphere, everyone avoids me.No one stopped to talk to me; my friends, seeing me from a distance, got into their cars and drove away.Even old Mr. Duncan, the Scotch grocer, with whom I had bought for many years, and danced with him in the great ballroom of Government House, saw me go in, looked at me in terror, and left the shop.I began to feel, in Nairobi, as lonely as on a desert island. I left Farah in the manor to receive Dennis, and there was no one around me to talk to.The Kikuyu are not helpful in this situation because their conception of reality, and the reality they face, is different from ours.I was going to Keromo to attend Mrs. Macmillan's luncheon, fully expecting to find white people to talk to and restore my balance. I drove to a quaint house in Keramo, at the end of the long bamboo forest road, where the luncheon was held.But the situation in Keramo is no different from that on the streets of Nairobi.Everyone is extremely sad.When I walked in, people's conversation stopped abruptly.I sat next to my old friend Bullpate, who looked down and said little.I tried to brush away the shadow that was weighing heavily on me and talk to him about his mountaineering feat in Mexico, but he seemed to forget about it. These people are of no value to me, I thought, and I'll go back to my estate.Dennis should be back now.We will talk and act rationally.My sanity will be cleared again, and everything will be clear. However, at the close of lunch, Mrs. Macmillan asked me to join her in the drawing-room.There, he told me, Foy had had an accident.The engine failure of Dai Nisi's plane failed, the plane crashed and died. As soon as I heard Dennis's name, I suddenly realized.Yes, the truth is out, everything is clear to me. Soon after, the mayor of Foy wrote to me, giving me the details of the accident.Dennis stayed overnight at the mayor's house, took off from Foy Airport in the morning and headed for the manor, with his servants at random.After takeoff, he turned back quickly, flying low, two hundred feet above the ground.Suddenly, the plane shook violently, began to spin, and then rushed straight to the ground like a bird swooping down. When it hit the ground, it caught fire immediately.People rushing to the airport were hampered by the high temperature.They brought branches, sand, and flames.The fire was finally extinguished and the plane was found broken into pieces, killing two people in the fall. Many years later, the people of this colony still feel that Dennis' death is a great loss that cannot be replaced.In the attitude of the colonists in general to him there emerged a benevolent tendency, a respect for values ​​beyond their comprehension.They talk about Denis, most often as a sportsman.They commented on his exploring spirit as a cricketer and golfer.Such achievements were unknown to me, and it was only then that I learned of his great reputation in all sports.Therefore, when people paid tribute to Dainis as a sportsman, it was natural to add a comment: he is an outstanding figure.But what people really remember about him is that unconditional, genuine devotion without a sense of self, without a sense of selfishness, that I've only ever seen outside of him in idiots.In the colonies these qualities are generally not a model to be followed, but a man is perhaps more sincerely admired after his death than on other occasions. Natives know Dainis better than whites.For the natives, his death was tantamount to the loss of a loved one. When I heard in Nairobi that Denis had been killed, I managed to get to Foy.The airline dispatched Tom.Blake went to the scene to report the accident, and I drove to the airport, begging him to take me with me.But when I arrived at the airport, his plane just took off and headed for Foy, Originally, this distance was still open to traffic, but it was the heavy rainy season, so I had to check the road conditions.As I sat and waited for the road report, I remembered that Dennis had told me that he would like to be buried in Ngo Mountain after his death.It's strange how I didn't remember his last wish before, but at this moment, my mind is determined to bury him in person no matter what, as if there is a picture reminding me. In the first watershed of the Nge Mountains Game Reserve, there is a place where I once thought I would die of old age in Africa as my future burial ground, and I had pointed it out to Dennis.One evening, as we sat looking out of the house, he expressed his desire to be buried there, too.From then on, sometimes when we drove into the mountains, Dennis would say: Let's drive to our cemetery.Once, in search of bison, we camped in the mountains.In the afternoon, we walked to the hillside to observe more clearly.There, what came into view was the boundless and magnificent scene: under the afterglow of the setting sun, we saw the two famous mountains, Mount Kenya and Mount Kilimanjaro.Dennis was lying in the grass, eating oranges, and said that he was willing to sleep there forever.The cemetery I chose was slightly higher.From both places, I could see my house hidden in the distant oriental jungle.At that time, I thought, tomorrow we will go back there, forever back there.Despite the widely circulated theory that everyone is mortal. Gustav.When Moore heard the bad news, he rushed from his manor to my house, but he didn't see me, so he came to Nairobi to look for me again.Soon, Hughes.Martin also came and sat with us.I told them about Dennis' last wishes and the burial place on the mountain.They immediately telegraphed Foy's relevant people.Before I returned to the manor, they informed me that the body of Dennis would be sent by train the next morning, so that the funeral could be held on the mountain at noon.I have to finish his graveyard by noon. Moore followed me back to the manor, where he spent the night, and helped me make arrangements early the next morning.We went up the mountain before sunrise, determined the site of the tomb, excavated and repaired it in time. It rained all night.When we set out in the morning, the weather was beautiful, the rain was drizzling, and the ruts on the road were filled with water.Driving up the mountain is like entering a cloud.On the right, we don't see the grassland below, and on the left, we don't see the slopes and peaks.The servants in the truck that came with us were out of sight ten yards behind us.The further up the road, the thicker the fog.From a roadside sign, we knew we were somewhere in a wildlife sanctuary, so we drove another hundred or two yards and got out of the car.We left the truck and servants on the highway, and went first to find what we needed.The morning air made my fingers ache. The cemetery should not be too far from the road, and the terrain should not be too steep, so that trucks can still go up it.A few of us walked on foot, talking about the dense fog.After walking for a while, we parted ways to choose the site of the tomb. After a few seconds, we got into the thick fog and lost sight of each other. The mountains and fields sometimes appear open and sometimes cramped and closed, and the climate resembles a rainy day in Northern Europe.Farah was with me, wet rifle, and I wondered if we might run into the buffalo.Everything around us suddenly unfolded in front of us from the fog, making it appear extraordinarily large.The gray leaves of the wild olive tree, the weeds taller than a person, dripping water, exuded a pungent smell. I was wearing rain boots and a raincoat, but after a while I was drenched, as if I was wading in a stream.The mountains and plains were extremely quiet, but the rain was heavy, and there were bursts of pattering sounds from all around.When the fog dissipated, I saw a vast stretch of dark blue in the front and back, like a huge stone slab, which should be a mountain peak in the distance, and then it was engulfed by the floating gray rain and fog.I walked and walked, and finally stopped in silence. Nothing can be done here until the weather clears. Moore called me three or four times, found my place, and walked up to me, with rain dripping on his face and hands.He told me that we had been wandering in the fog for an hour, and if we couldn't make a base, it would be too late to prepare. But I don't know where it is now, I said, we can't bury Dennis in a place where the view is not open.Let's find out for a while. In the tall grass we stood silently while I smoked a cigarette.I was about to throw away my cigarette butt when the fog cleared a bit and the pale, harsh world around us began to reveal itself.Ten minutes later, we could see where we were.The prairie is right below us, and my eyes can scan along the road we entered the mountain. It meanders along the hillside, rises along the mountain, rushes towards us, turns a corner, and winds away again.Far to the south, beneath shifting clouds, lay the intermittent dark green hills of Kilimanjaro.As we turned to face the ground, the sky was brighter, and for a split second soft streaks of light slanted across the sky, fringing Mount Kenya's shoulders with shimmering silver.Below us on the east side, amidst the near gray and green, suddenly appeared a small red spot where the tiled roof of my house stood out in the open in the forest.We don't have to go far, we're in a good place.Not long after, it rained again. About twenty yards above us there was a natural narrow platform.We marked the burial site and used a compass to determine the east-west orientation of the cemetery.Then we called the servants up and assigned them to mow the grass with machetes and dig the wet earth.Moore led several servants to repair the road from the highway to the cemetery.They leveled the field, cut off miscellaneous branches and laid them on the road. The ground was slippery and easy to fall.We can't get the road to the tomb, it's too steep.Until then, the place was very quiet, and as soon as the servants began to dig, I heard the echo of the mountains.The sound of shoveling and digging echoed in the valley, like a puppy barking. Several cars from Nairobi appeared, and we sent a servant to show them the way.In the vast mountains, they would not notice the few people beside the cemetery in the bushes.The Somali people from Nairobi also came. They parked their mule carts on the main road and walked up slowly in groups of three or five. They expressed their condolences in Somali customs, as if wrapping their heads and getting rid of life. .Some of Dennis's friends from the inland drove from Nayvancia, Gilgil and Ermetita after hearing the news.Their car was splattered with mud during the long drive.At this time, the weather was clearer, and the four peaks of Ngo Mountain were displayed in the sky above us, pointing directly at the blue sky. Shortly after noon, people carried Denis to the old road to Tanganyika, and his body was transported here from Nairobi.Vehicles drive slowly on a muddy road.They came to the last steep slope, took the long, flag-covered coffin out of the car, and carried it forward.The moment the coffin was placed in the tomb, the whole wilderness suddenly became as quiet as a mausoleum, and the two became one.The mountains stand tall, and they know and understand what we do in their surroundings.Then, they presided over the ceremony spontaneously, which was an exchange between them and Dainis.Those who attended the funeral became a small group of spectators in this wilderness. Dennis has observed and walked all the paths on the African plateau.He knew better than any other white man the soil and seasons of the African plateau, the plants and animals, the winds from all directions, and the breaths from all directions.He has examined climate change, changing clouds, stars at night, and people on the plateau.Just in this mountain, I saw him not wearing a hat not long ago, standing under the scorching sun in the afternoon, looking at the earth, looking for everything in the mountains with his binoculars.He merged himself into the mountains and fields.In his eyes and heart, the mountains and fields have changed, bearing the mark of his personality everywhere and becoming a part of his life.At this moment, Africa has accepted him and will create him again. He really has become one with this hot land. I heard that the bishop of Nairobi did not want to come to the funeral because it was too late to hold a memorial ceremony at the cemetery.However, another priest came and said the funeral rites.I have never heard of this sacrificial oration before. In the boundless sky, the voice of the priest is like the singing of birds on the mountain, sharp and clear.I think that after all this is done, Dainis will be satisfied.The priest recited a hymn: I look up at Cangshan Mountain. Me and Gustav.Moore, sat for a while after the others had left.All Muslims, after we leave, go to the cemetery and pray. In the few days after Dennis' death, all the servants who hunted with him came and gathered in the manor.They didn't say why they came here, and they didn't beg for anything. They just sat on the ground with their backs against the wall of the house, their hands spread out on the road, and they were almost silent all day long, which was contrary to the norm of the aborigines.Marim and Sasita are here. They are Dainis' gun-bearers and hunting partners. They are shrewd, tenacious, brave and fearless, and they always accompany Dainis on hunting trips.They had hunted with the Prince of Wales, and many years later, the Prince remembered their names and said that they were indestructible characters.Now these two outstanding hunters lost their direction of action and sat numbly.The motorcycle driver of Kanusia Dennis used to travel thousands of miles in the rugged mountains. At this moment, this slender Kikuyu youth with sharp eyes like a monkey was sitting in front of the house with a dejected and indifferent expression, like a cage. of things. Beria.The Somali servant of Issadenis came from Ivancia.He went to England twice with Dennis, where he studied and spoke a gentleman's English.A few years ago, Dennis and I attended the Beria wedding in Nairobi, which was a huge affair and lasted seven days.At the wedding, Beria, the great traveler and scholar, revived the ancient tradition.Dressed in a golden robe, he greeted us on his knees.He danced the sword dance, bold and majestic, full of the demeanor of a desert fighter.Beria went to pay homage to his master's tomb, and sat for a long time in the cemetery.After he came back, he said few words, and then sat on the ground with his back against the wall with other people, and spread his hands on the ground. Farah came out of the house and stood talking to mourners.He himself was very depressed.He said to me: As long as Beda is still here, even if you have to go, the situation will not be so bad. Dennis's servants mourned in the manor for about seven days before leaving one by one. I often drive to Dennis's grave.From my house to the cemetery, the straight-line distance is only five miles, and the winding mountain road can take fifteen miles.His tomb rises a thousand feet above my mansion.The air here is also quite different, as clean as a spring.As you take off your hat, a gentle wind blows your hair.On the peaks the clouds drifted from the east, cast moving shadows over the vast, undulating landscape, and then drifted and disappeared over the Rift Valley. I bought a yard of white cloth which the natives call Americana at a small shop. 】.Farah and I erected three poles on the back of the mausoleum, and tied white cloth on them, so that the exact location of the tomb can be clearly identified from my house, like a few white flowers in the green hills. During the heavy rainy season, there is plenty of rain. I am worried that weeds will grow wildly and cover the cemetery.One day, we pulled out all the whitewashed stones beside the driveway, and Carlomenia took a lot of effort to pull them out. Those stones piled up in front of the house were loaded into the carriage and transported to the mountain.We cut down the weeds around the tomb and piled the stones into a square as a sign.Everything is in place, and the cemetery will never be lost again. I often take the children of the manor to the cemetery, even they know it very well.When outsiders come, they can help guide the way.They also built a small pergola near the base.During the dry season, Ali.Bing.A friend of Salim Dennis, who came here from Mombasa, lay on the cemetery, weeping bitterly, mourning Denis according to Arabic customs. One day, I saw Hughes by the mausoleum.Martin, we sat on the grass and talked for a long time.The unfortunate death of Dennis made him extremely sad.If there is any complete hermit in the world, Dennis is it.But a model is a strange thing, and you can hardly believe Hughes.Martin misses Dennis so much, and he never imagined that the death of his model Dennis would affect him as much as losing his vital organs.Martin had aged and changed a great deal since Dennis's death, with age spots and wrinkles on his face.Despite this, he still maintains the serenity and smile of the Chinese Maitreya Buddha, as if he knows that there is something blissful in the ordinary.During the conversation, he told me that late one night, he suddenly remembered the most suitable epitaph.I guess he took it from an ancient Greek philosopher, he just quoted the original Greek sentence, and then translated it so that I could understand the meaning.The citation is: In the dark, the fire and my mortal relationship melted together, but I remained calm, and everything about me was liberated. Later, Dennis' elder brother, Lord Winchelsea, also erected an obelisk in front of his tomb, with an inscription on it quoted from the poem "Old Navigator".Denis adored this poem very much.I've never read it, and I remember the first time Dennis read it to me on our way to Beria's wedding.I didn't see that stele because it was erected after I left Africa. In Britain, there is also a monument to Denis.To commemorate him, his old classmates built a stone bridge on the stream between two cricket fields in Eton College.On one balustrade is inscribed his name and the dates he attended Eton; on another balustrade: Famous cricketer, beloved friend of many. Between the rich rivers of the land of England and the steep mountain ridges of Africa, there is a stretch of Dennis's life path.This road seems to linger nine twists and turns in the vision, which is the reason for the distortion of the surrounding environment.The bowstring is relaxed on the Eaton Stone Bridge, and the bow and arrow traces the track in the sky, pointing directly at the monument in the En Ge Mountain. After I left Africa, Gustav.More wrote to tell me that a strange thing had happened near Denis's tomb, the like of which I had never heard before.The Maasai, he wrote, reported to the Ngo District Governor that there were many times when they saw lions at Sunrise or Sunset at their base in Dennis.A pair of lions lingered there for a long time, either squatting or lying down.Some Indians who took the train to Calgado also saw the pair of lions passing by.After you leave, the ground around the mausoleum is flattened into a large platform.I suspect that flat land is a valuable place for lions, where they can look out over grasslands, cattle and wild animals. It is reasonable and ceremonial for the lion to come to Denis's mausoleum and erect an African monument for him.Make your mausoleum famous.I remember that in Trafalgar Square, London, Lord Nelson had his lions guarding the statue, though only stone lions. sold out Now I am all alone at the manor.The manor no longer belongs to me, but the buyer has given me a favor and I can still live in the house as long as I like.For legal reasons it was leased to me at two shillings a day. I am selling furniture.Me and Farah have our hands full on this.We had to display all the china, table tumblers on the dinner table.Then the tables were bought and we arranged them in long rows on the floor.The cuckoo that rings the clock condescendingly announces the hour, very proud. Soon, it also has a buyer and flies away.One day I sold the tumblers, but at night I missed them again.The next morning, I drove to Nairobi and begged the lady who bought the glasses to return them to me.I have no place to store these glasses, but many friends have touched them with their fingers, lips, and I have used them to taste the wines that friends have given me.The cups echoed the joyous conversations of old dinner tables, and I couldn't bear to lose them.But I guess, glasses are fragile items after all. I have an old screen with pictures of Chinese, Suzhou and Negroes, with dogs leading the way.This screen stands by the fireplace.How many nights, when the wall fire was burning, under the reflection of the fire, the characters on the screen were vivid, just like the illustrations of the stories I told Dennis.I stared at the screen for a long time, and made up my mind to fold it up and put it in a wooden box, so that the characters on the screen would be able to rest temporarily. At that time, Ms McMillan was in Nairobi for her husband Northlepa.The memorial built by Sir Macmillan is nearing completion.It was a fine building with a library and reading rooms.She drove to the manor and talked about the past days, feeling very sad.She bought most of the old furniture I brought from Denmark to furnish the library.I am glad to see that those boxes and cabinets will also stay together, around books and scholars.They are more like a small group of ladies who have found refuge in a university during the turbulent times of change.I have a deep affection for these chests and cabinets, and I even feel that they have a lively, intelligent, and hospitable personality. My own collection of books, packed into wooden boxes.I sit on it and eat on it.Books played a very different role in colonial life than in Europe.An entire area of ​​your life is governed by them.There are also differences between books. Some books make you grateful for them, while others make you hate them to the bone.The catharsis of these emotions is far beyond what you feel when you are in a civilized country. The fictional characters in the book will gallop side by side with your horse in the manor, and also walk in the cornfield, just like alert soldiers, they will find the right position immediately.After reading "Crum Manor" all night [Note: A.Huxley's masterpiece. ] Afterwards, the next morning I had never heard the name of an author I had never heard of before, and the book, picked up at the bookstore in Nairobi, made me ecstatic as if I had discovered a new green island in the sea as I rode through wild animals. In the canyon of the reserve, a duiker jumped out, transformed into a pony in an instant, and waited for Sir and Mrs. Hercule and his thirty black and stag-colored pugs.Wilde.All of Scott's characters come to life here, too, everywhere.The same is true of the ancient Greek hero Ulysses and his entourage.Curiously, there are also quite a few characters from the French playwright Racine.Peter.Shelemir wears seven-league leather boots [Note: In mythology, it is a god shoe that can cover seven miles in one step. ], Hiking up the mountain; Crone.亞格罕伯蜜蜂棲息在我河邊的花園裡。 其他一些東西也變賣了，打入箱子，發走了。在這幾個月裡，房子變得像自在之物那般高尚，成了冷清、寬敞的所在，說話都聽得見回音。草坪上的草也長到了門口的臺階上。最後，所有的房間裡都空空如也，而在我的心目中，這種光景似乎比以前更適於居住。 我對法拉赫說：這才是我們不管什麼時候都應該有的境遇啊。 法拉赫知我甚深。所有的索馬利亞人都具有某種苦行僧式的稟性。法拉赫在這個時期竭盡全力幫助我處理一切事務，同時他愈益顯得像一個真正的索馬利亞人，酷似當初我來非洲，他受命去亞丁接我那樣。他對我的舊鞋頗為關切，他悄悄對我說，他準備天天祈禱上帝，願這雙舊鞋一直能讓我穿到巴黎。 這幾個月，法拉赫天天穿最好的衣服。他有許多好衣服，我送他的繡金線的阿拉伯背心，柏克萊．考爾送他的鑲金邊的制服背心，色澤猩紅，十分瀟灑；還有那色調美麗的頭巾。一般情況下，他將這些衣物珍藏箱中，只在重要的場合穿一下。而現今他穿的是最好的，在奈洛比的街頭，他走在我後面一步，在政府機構、法律事務所，他守在骯髒的樓梯口等我。他穿得富麗堂皇，猶如所羅門王那般。 現在，我還得安排我的馬匹、獵犬的命運。我一直決心讓牠們飲彈而逝，可是我的許多朋友寫信給我，請求我讓他們養這些犬馬。讀了來信之後，不論什麼時候我騎馬外出，帶著狗同行，想到要讓牠們飲彈而盡，總感到似乎對牠們是不公平的牠們的生命力還相當旺盛哩。我久久打不定主意，而在其他任何問題上我並非如此猶豫不決，反覆掂量。最後，我還是決定將牠們移交給我的朋友們。 我騎著心愛的馬羅傑進入奈洛比，我們走得很慢，時而環顧北方，時而眺望南方。我心想，羅傑一定十分驚異：沿著奈洛比大街進城，而且一去不復返。我費了好大力氣才把牠安頓在去那依萬霞的列車馬廄裡。我站在馬廄裡，最後一次感受牠那絲綢般的口鼻嗅撫我的雙手和臉龐。羅傑，我不讓你走，除非你賜福於我。我與你一起。走出了田頭茅屋間通往小河的馬道，在陡峭溜滑的下坡路上，你行走敏捷如騾子；在褐色的流水中，我看見我的頭與你緊挨在一起。此刻，我祝願你到了雲霧山谷，在左面養精蓄銳，在右面飽餐石竹。 那時我養著兩條小獵犬戴維與迪那赫，帕尼亞的後代。我把牠們送給莊園在吉爾吉爾附近的一位朋友，那裡是狩獵的好地方。這兩隻小獵狗長得健壯、活潑。我將牠們裝在汽車裡送走，牠們神采飛揚，呼呼地喘著氣，腦袋湊在一起，伸著舌頭探出車子，好像在追蹤新奇而堂皇的獵物。那敏銳的眼睛，那輕捷的四肢。那充滿活力的心靈，告別了我的宅邸與草原，在新的土地上，愉快地呼吸、嗅聞、奔跑。 我的一些雇員開始離開莊園。不再種咖啡，也無需加工廠，波萊．辛格感到無所事事，可是他不願在非洲另謀職業，最後終於下決心返回印度。 Pole.辛格，雖精於五金礦產，可在打鐵鋪之外，卻像孩子那般單純。他一點兒也意識不到莊園的末日已經來臨。他為莊園傷感，晶瑩的熱淚流下來，淌入那簇濃黑的鬍鬚裡。他一再設法挽留我，想出種種維持莊園的計劃。他的這些努力，久久地令我不安。無論過去還是眼下，他一直以為我們加工機械而感到自豪，這種自豪彷彿牢固地與蒸汽機、咖啡乾燥機凝結在一起。機器上的每一個螺母，都被他那雙柔和的黑眼睛所溶化。最後，當他確信事情已無可挽回，便驟然放棄了一切努力。他依然十分傷感，卻逆來順受，有時我見到他，他就絮絮叨叨地述說自己旅程的安排。他離別時，隨身什麼行李也沒帶，只有一小箱工具和一套錫焊裝備，似乎他已將自己的心和生命付諸大海，剩下的僅僅是他的錫料，他的焊盤，還有這謙遜、棕膚色的軀殼。 我想在他臨別時贈他一件禮物。我希望在我的財物裡有他所喜歡的東西，可當我向他提起這一想法時，他當即大喜，宣布他要一枚戒指。我沒有戒指，也沒錢買給他。那是好幾個月前的事了，戴尼斯來莊園吃飯時，我向他講了自己的這一處境。戴尼斯曾送我一枚衣索比亞的軟金戒指，可以調節大小，適於任何手指。戴尼斯聽了我的苦經後，估計著我是在打這隻戒指的主意，有心將它轉送給辛格。他也常常抱怨，不論什麼時候，也不論他送給我什麼東西，我轉身就會送給我的有色朋友。這回為了避免這類事發生，他把戒指從我手上取下，戴在他自己手指上，說在波萊．辛格離開之前，這枚戒指由他來保管。過了沒幾天，他便去蒙巴薩了，這樣，戒指便成為他的陪葬物了。在波萊．辛格臨行前，我賣了家俱，湊足了錢，終於到奈洛比買了一枚他嚮往的戒指。這戒指是重金的，鑲有一塊紅寶石，顯得像玻璃似的。Pole.辛格高興得又流下了眼淚。我相信這枚戒指幫助他度過了與莊園、與他們的機器難捨難分的時刻。在他離開前的最後一週，他天天戴著戒指，每回來我這兒，總要揚起他的手，含著溫柔而欣喜的微笑，向我顯示他的戒指。在奈洛比車站，我見到他的最後一眼，是他那隻瘦長黝黑的手，那隻以何等炫目的速度鍛打鐵件的手。這隻手從土著車廂異常擁擠、悶熱的窗口伸出來。Pole.辛格在車廂裡，坐在工具箱上，上下揮舞著那隻手。啊，再見了！手上的紅寶石像一顆小星星在閃光！ Pole.辛格回旁遮普老家。他多年未見親人了，但親人們一直與他保持連繫，寄照片給他。他將照片珍藏在加工廠近旁的小瓦楞鐵屋子裡，小心翼翼、充滿自豪地拿出來給我看。我收到了他在赴印度的海輪上寫來的幾封信。這些信開頭都是一樣的：親愛的夫人，再見了。然後向我報導他的消息和旅途紀事。 戴尼斯死後一週，一天早晨，我遇到了一樁奇事。 我假寐在床上，回想著近幾個月來所發生的一切。我極力想理解這些事情的內涵。我依稀感到，在某種程度上，我一定是越出了人類生存的正常軌道，捲入了我永遠不該進入的大漩渦。我走到哪裡，哪裡的地面在我腳下塌陷，星星從天穹墜落。我記起了一首關於雷格奈羅克的詩，詩內描述了群星紛落的情景；我還想起了關於矮神的詩歌，這些矮神在山洞裡長吁短嘆，死於驚恐之中。所有這些，我想，不可能僅僅是境遇的巧合，即人們所謂的厄運的回環，內中肯定有某些貫通的原則。我若能發現這些原則，它們將拯救我。我覺得，要是我能觀察到點子上，事物的連貫性將更為顯而易見。我想，我該起床，捕捉一下有關的先兆。 許多人認為，尋找先兆是非理性的。此種觀點源於這一事實：要能做到這一點，必須具有特別的心境，並非很多人感知到自己處於這樣的境地。你若懷著這種心理狀態去尋覓先兆，答案不會使你失望的，它隨需求的自然結果而至。同樣道理，一個具有靈感的牌手在桌上摸十三張碰運氣的牌，占有一把搭配協調的牌。當其他牌手看不出任何叫花色的可能時，他卻驀然瞥見大滿貫就在面前向他微笑哩。牌中有大滿貫麼？有的，對於獨具慧眼的牌手的確是有的。 我步出屋子去尋覓先兆，不知不覺中走向僕人們的茅屋。一群群雞剛放出來，在茅屋之間四處跑動。我停下腳步，凝視著牠們。 法西瑪的大白公雞在我眼前高視闊步。突然，牠停下來，左顧右盼，雞冠聳立。在小路的另一側，一條灰色的變色龍從草叢裡爬出來，和公雞一樣，開始早晨的搜索活動。公雞逕直向小變色龍走去雞常吃這類爬蟲得意地咯咯叫了幾聲。一見到公雞，小變色龍立即停止前進，如死了一般。牠受到了驚嚇，可又很勇敢，四肢緊摳地面，嘴巴張得大大的，想嚇退牠的敵手。牠閃電般地向公雞射出細棍狀的舌頭。公雞愣了一秒鐘，似乎吃了一驚，繼而，牠那錘子般的尖喙迅捷有力地啄下去，扯下小變色龍的舌頭。 兩者的遭遇戰進行了十秒鐘。我把法西瑪的公雞轟走，撿了一塊大石頭，砸死了變色龍沒有舌頭，變色龍就活不成，牠們全憑舌頭捕食昆蟲。 這情景真使我害怕雖然場面不大，卻令人厭惡、驚心。我離開現場，在屋邊的石塊上坐下。我枯坐許久，法拉赫把茶水給我送來，放在桌上。我低頭盯著地上的石塊，不敢往上看，我似乎感到整個世界就是如此的險惡。 在以後的幾天裡，我漸漸明悟，我尋得了最切合我需要的精神上的答案。我以奇異的方式獲取了尊嚴與榮譽。我渴求的神靈就佇立於我的尊嚴之上，而不在於我自身的孜孜追求之中。難道還有其他答案可以賜予我麼？顯然，神靈並非對我溺愛，祂們只是對我的召喚予以默契。神靈笑我，笑聲迴蕩山野。在號聲中，在公雞與變色龍之間，神靈笑道：哈！ha! 我十分喜悅，那天早晨我外出正是時候，將變色龍從緩慢、痛苦的死亡之中解脫出來。 大概在這個時候我將馬匹送出以前英格麗特．林斯特朗從恩喬羅莊園趕來，陪我小住。這是英格麗特交情的表示。要知道，她離開自己的莊園談何容易。她的丈夫，為了掙錢支付他們在恩喬羅的這片土地，遠行坦噶尼喀，在一家劍麻大公司謀職，終年在海拔二千英呎的高地茹苦含辛，就像英格麗特為了莊園的生存，把他租賃出去承受苦役。丈夫外出，英格麗特就自己經營莊園，擴大飼養場，花圃、養豬、養火雞，忙得不可開交；要抽出幾天功夫，的確很難得。儘管如此，為了我，她還是把莊園委託給僕人凱莫薩照管，急匆匆趕到我這裡，就像朋友的房子著火，跑來救火似的。這回她沒帶凱莫薩來，也許對於法拉赫是個福音眼下的處境，何以款待他的好友呢？英格麗特以其自身的感受力從內心深處明白、理解一個莊園女主人要放棄莊園、離開這片熱土，該是何等的心境。 她和我待在一起時，我們不談過去，不談未來，也不提及我們的朋友或熟人。在災難的時刻，我們的心靈閉關自守。我們在莊園裡攜手而行，從這一處到那一處，走到哪裡，就點一下那裡植物的名字。彷彿我們在心裡點存我們的損失，又好像英格麗特在為我搜集素材，寫一本對命運的抗議之書。她從自己的經驗中深知不可能有這樣的書，然而，對命運的抗爭的確是女人生活的一個組成部分。 我們來到牛圈，坐在籬笆上，點著歸圈的牛群。我無言地向英格麗特指點：這些牛啊。她也默默地作答：唔，牛啊。將牠們載入她的書中。我們轉到馬廄裡，餵糖給馬兒吃。牠們吃完了，我攤開粘乎乎、淌滿口涎的手掌遞給英格麗特看，口裡叫道：這些馬啊。她也哽咽著嘆息道：唔，馬啊。又記錄在冊。在河邊的花園裡，她得知我不得不將那些從歐洲引來的花木遺棄，內心十分不平靜。她的雙手緊緊攥住薄荷樹、洋蘇葉、薰衣草，之後又一再談起這些花木，她似乎在考慮某種計劃，好讓我安排一下，把花木帶走。 我們花了整整一個下午，對我那一小群正在草地上吃草的駝牛凝視冥想。我重溫了這些牛的口歲、個性及牛奶產量。英格麗特則對牠們的命運長吁短嘆，大鳴不平。她一頭一頭地細細打量，但不是以做買賣的眼光因為我的牛準備留給僕人們而是在估算、掂量我的損失。她摟著柔軟、散發者乳香的小牛犢。她在自己的莊園裡經過長期奮鬥，養了幾頭生牛犢的母牛。我遺棄牛犢，與一切理性背道而馳，也違背了她的意願，她那嗔怪的雙目掃了我幾眼。 假如一個男人，與一位居喪的友人同行，他的內心一直會重複一句話：感謝上帝，幸虧不是我。我相信，他本人會反感，並企圖抑制這種感覺。可是在兩個建立起友誼的女人中間，情況就大不一樣了：其中一位對自己朋友的災禍深表同情，不言而喻，幸運的一個不免在心中會重複同樣的話：感謝上帝，幸虧不是我。這在她們當中不會引起反感，而恰恰相反，這將使她們更為親密，並在禮節上增添個人的色彩。男人，我想，不會輕易地相互忌妒，也不會和諧地競爭。新娘自然遠勝於女儐相，留宿的客人也會忌妒孩子的母親，這自不待言，然而這對各方都不會引起不快。失去孩子的母親會把孩子的衣服拿給朋友看，明知朋友的心中在重複一句話：感謝上帝，幸虧不是我。這對她們倆都是頗為自然而合適的。英格麗特與我正是如此。當我們漫步莊園時，我知道她在惦念自己的莊園，慶幸自己走運，尚未失去莊園，正在全力掌握著莊園的命運，對此，我們倆可謂心有靈犀一點通。除了舊卡其外衣與長褲，我們實際上是一對神奇的女子，各自包裹在白與黑之中，是一個整體，是非洲務農生活的守護神。 幾天以後，英格麗特向我告辭，搭乘火車回恩喬羅了。 我的馬匹送了人，我再也不能騎馬外出，沒有了獵犬，徒步行走也非常沉悶、寂寞。不過我還有汽車，這是頗值慶幸的，在這幾個月中，我有不少事須辦。 莊園佃農的命運如重負壓在我心頭。莊園的買主們計劃清除咖啡樹，將土地重新劃分，當作房地產出售，他們用不著佃農。變賣莊園的事一成交，買主們便向佃農發出預告，限他們六個月內離開莊園。這對佃農來說，是一個出乎意料、窘迫為難的決定，因為多年來他們始終生活在一種幻覺之中土地是他們的。許多人生於莊園，還有些人從小就隨父輩來到這塊土地上。 佃農們周知，為了能在這裡居住，每年須為我工作一百八十天，每三十天拿十二先令。這些款項都在莊園辦公室裡落賬。他們也知道，他們須向政府繳納茅屋稅，每幢十二先令，這對一個當家男人是個沉重的負擔。在這個世界上，他別無多少來源可支撐兩三幢茅屋根據其妻子的數目而定，因為作為吉庫尤丈夫必須給每個妻子一幢茅屋。我的佃農們常因違反法規受到威脅，要他們離開莊園，他們肯定會在某種程度上感到其地位並非完全無懈可擊。他們非常討厭茅屋稅。我在莊園裡替政府收稅款時，他們真叫我費勁操心，還得耐著性子聽他們滿腹的牢騷。不過，儘管如此，他們依然將這些事情視作艱難人生的家常便飯，從不放棄希望以某種方式來逃避納稅。他們從未想像過，世上竟然存在一條普遍的基本原則，對他們所有的人無一例外，更不知曉這原則將以致命的粉碎性的方式，在適當的時機自行宣告。他們有時還寧可將莊園新主人的決定視為嚇唬人的玩藝兒，不予理睬。 在某些方面，雖然不是在所有情況下，白人在土著心目中的位置，恰恰是上帝的意願在白人心目中所占據的地位。我曾與一位印度的木材商簽訂一份合同，內中有一句條文：上帝的行為。我不太了解此詞的含義，起草合同的律師曾向我作過解釋。 不，不，夫人，他說，你還不理解此詞的含意。凡是不可預見的、與任何條文、理由相悖的東西，都是上帝的行為，意即不可抗拒之力。 後來，佃農們終於明悟到莊園新主人要他們撤離的預告並非一紙空文，於是，他們垂頭喪氣、成群結隊來到我的住處。他們認為這是我離開莊園的後果我的厄運有增無已，現在又波及他們。他們並不為此指責我，因為我早就向他們解釋清楚了。他們只是問我，他們何去何從？ 我從多方面感到難以回答他們。依照法律，土著自己不得購買任何土地，據我所知，也沒有其他莊園足以全部接受他們。我告訴他們，我在詢問此事時，別人告訴我，他們必須遷往吉庫尤保護區，去那裡找土地。對此，他們很認真地問我，在保護區能否找到大片無人占有的土地足以容納他們和所有的牲畜？他們還問，他們能否在同一地方找到土地，以便來自莊園的人都留在一起，不必分離。 他們共同生活的決心如此之大，真令我吃驚。在莊園裡，他們很難和睦相處，互相間說好話的也不多。然而，此刻他們卻一起來了，素來自高自大的大牧主，諸如卡賽古、卡尼努和馬烏蓋，與那些貧賤的、既無份額土地也無一頭羊的幫工，諸如瓦維魯和喬薩，攜手而來不妨這麼說，同心同德，堅持保留牲口，堅持互不分散。我感覺到他們不但是向我要一塊地方居住，而是要求生存的權利。 你從人民那裡奪取土地，又豈僅是土地？你奪走了他們的歷史，他們的尊嚴、他們的根。如果你掠取他們見慣的、期望見到的東西，在某種意義上，你就是剜掉了他們的眼珠。這一點更適用於尚未開化的人們。就連動物，也會長途跋涉，歷盡險阻，飽嘗苦難，回到他們熟悉的環境，恢復失去的尊嚴。 馬賽依人從鐵路線北面他們的故土搬遷到現在的保護區時，將故鄉山、河、平原的名字也一起帶來，重新命名新地方的山河平原，這習俗使旅遊者左右為難。馬賽依人隨身帶著草藥，在漂泊的生涯中，極力保持自己的傳統。 這會兒，我的佃農們團結一致，出自同一自我維護的天性，他們若是要離開自己的土地，周圍必須有了解故土的人，以便驗證他們的尊嚴。這樣，在今後若干年裡，他們仍可談論莊園的地理、歷史。即使一個人忘記了，他人也會記起。基於此，他們不能不感到消亡的恥辱正在降臨。 去吧，姆沙布，他們對我請求，為我們找一找政府吧，讓他們同意我們把全部牲口帶上，到新的地方去。走到哪裡，都讓我們待在一起。 為此，我開始了漫長的朝聖，或謂乞討的旅程，足足耗盡了我在非洲最後幾個月的時光。 受吉庫尤人的派遣，我先去奈洛比和基亞布兩個區的區長那裡，然後又去土著局與土地辦公室，最後去找總督約瑟夫．伯恩爵士適逢他剛剛從英國來此地上任，我都忘記了自己奔波的目的。我像是被潮汐衝擊，時進時退。有時我一整天泡在奈洛比，有時則一天去兩三次，每逢我返回莊園時，總有一群佃農等候在我的宅前，可他們從不打聽我有什麼消息。他們一直守候在這裡，為的是向我表示他們辦事的持久力。 政府官員都是有耐心、樂於助人的。這件事的困難並非他們造成的；在吉庫尤保護區確難找到一塊空地足以接納莊園所有的人與牲口。 絕大部分官員在本殖民地多年，對土著非常了解。他們只是含蓄地建議使吉庫尤人明瞭出售部分牲畜的好處，因為他們深知吉庫尤人在任何情況下都不會這麼做的。而將所有的牲口安排在一塊小地方，又勢必將造成在未來的歲月裡保護區裡鄰近土著無休止的糾紛，要驚動其他區的區長們前去處理、平息。 可是，當我們討論佃農們的第二項要求，即繼續住在一起時，當局人士卻說無此必要。 唉，何必問有無必要，我想，最卑賤的乞丐才乞討最可憐的東西。and so on.我平生歷來認為你盡可以根據人們對李爾王【註：莎士比亞戲劇中人物。 】的態度將他們分類。但你不能去與李爾王論理，也不能與吉庫尤老人論理。從一開始，李爾王就向每個人索取過多，但他是一個國王。非洲土著並非落落大方地將自己的國家拱手交給白人，這是確實的，因而問題在某些方面異於老國王及其女兒，白人是作為保護國接管殖民地的。然而，我印象頗深的是，在不太遙遠的年代，一個可以記起的年代，土著無可爭議地占有他們的土地，也從未聽說過白人及其法規。他們的生存環境總的來說，不太安全，但土地之於他們卻仍然是不可動搖的基石。他們中有些人被奴隸販子抓去，在奴隸市場出賣，但有些人一直留在故土。那些被販運出去的土著，在整個東部世界裡流放、受奴役，卻渴望返回高原，因為那是他們自己的土地。那年邁黑膚、眼睛明亮的非洲土著，與年邁黑膚、眼睛明亮的大象何等相似。你看他們佇立在大地上，沉穩而魁偉，周圍的景象在他們暗淡的心靈上緩緩地積累、堆砌，他們本身就顯示出這塊土地的特色。他們兩者中任何一個都為周圍正在發生的巨變而感到困惑不解，都可能會問你他身在何處，而你得用一句名言回答：先生，在你自己的王國裡。 到最後，正當我開始感到自己得驅車來回奔波於奈洛比與莊園之間，在政府辦公室詳談我的生活時，我突然收到通知，我的申請獲准了，政府同意在達戈萊蒂森林保護區撥出一塊土地給我莊園的佃農。在那裡，他們可以組建新的定居點，而且離老地方不遠。在莊園消逝後，他們還能作為一個社團，不忘各自的面容，永誌各自的名字。 這一決定的消息在莊園傳開，人們懷著深重、沉默的情感接受它。從吉庫尤人的臉龐上，看不出他們是否始終對此事抱有信念，也看不出他們是否已經絕望。事情一定下來，他們就提出五花八門的要求與建議，被我一一婉辭。他們仍在我屋舍附近逗留，以新奇的眼光注視著我。土著對於運氣的感覺與信念是這樣的：一次成功之後，一切將順遂。他們居然還相信，我將在莊園待下去。 至於我，佃農命運的圓滿解決，於我是極大的滿足，我很少這麼心滿意足過。 兩三天後，我感到自己在肯亞的事務已告終，現在我可以走了。莊園的咖啡收完了，碾麵廠裡靜悄悄的，住宅空空如也，佃農們已得到了土地。雨季結束了，草原、山丘上的新草長得老高老高的。 當初我所抱的宗旨是，一切小事都置之度外，集中精力處理一些大事，這種設想實際上已失敗了。我心甘情願將我的財物一一贈送出去，作為我自己生命的某種贖金。可當我一無所剩時，我又成了命運中最微不足道的東西了。 在那些時日裡，圓月射進空蕩的屋內，在地板上投下窗櫺的圖案。我頓生奇想，月亮也許是在窺視，並想知道在這一切都離去的地方，我打算再耽延多久。唔，不要多耽擱了，月亮說，時不汝待呀。 我極願再耽延一陣，好親眼看到佃農們在新的土地上安頓下來。但勘察土地頗費時日，很難確定他們何時才能搬入新居。 辭別 那時候，有消息傳來，說是鄰近的土著老人決定親自舉行恩戈馬盛會，為我送行。 在往昔，這些古老的土風舞兼有多種重要職能，而現今極少舉行這類舞會。我在非洲這麼久，從未觀賞過一次。我自然很嚮往一飽眼福，就連吉庫尤人自己，也十分看重。老人們的舞蹈盛會要在莊園裡舉行，這是莫大的榮耀，莊園裡的人們在舞會前很長時間就興致勃勃地談論著。 甚至法拉赫，他一般看不起土風舞，這回卻被土著老人們的決定深深打動。這些都是老人，姆沙布，他說，非常、非常老的人。 獅子般勇猛的吉庫尤年輕人，談論起即將舉行的老年土風舞表演，那敬畏的神情令人感到好奇。 關於這些土風舞，有一點我一直百思不解，即這些舞蹈何以被政府禁止。我不明白禁舞的道理。吉庫尤人一定知道禁令，但他們寧可置若罔聞。他們要麼認為在多難的時代，平常不能幹的，這會兒都可以幹，要麼是在土風舞狂熱的情緒中早已將禁令拋於九霄雲外了。在恩戈馬盛會之前，他們怎能無動於衷呢！ 老舞蹈家們來到時，情景之壯觀極為罕見。他們上百人，浩浩蕩蕩同時到達，一定是在途中某個地方集合的。土著老人們平時沉默、冷峻，整天用皮毛、毯子裹著身子，而此刻，他們卻赤身露體，彷彿在嚴肅地宣告某種令人生畏的真理。他們不事浮華，通常的武士紋身也不多見，只有少數人光禿禿前腦袋上戴著黑色鷹翎的頭飾，這頭飾常見於青年跳舞者的頭上。老人無需任何裝飾，單單是他們本身就足以令人印象深刻。他們並不像歐洲舞廳裡的那些老來俏，竭力使自己的容顏年輕動人。無論對於他們自己，還是觀眾，他們舞蹈的分量與吸引力恰恰就在於高齡。他們身上塗有我從未見到過的標誌，一條條白色的條紋順著彎曲的四肢延伸，似乎在毫無掩飾的真實中渲染、突出那黝黑的皮膚下硬直、脆弱的骨骼。當他們緩緩地步入舞場時，那動作，那姿態，如此怪誕，我簡直想不出自己將要觀賞的是什麼樣的舞蹈了。 我佇立著，凝視著他們，一種曾縈繞在腦際的幻覺又浮現出來：要離開的不是我。在我的感知中，我沒有離開非洲，而是非洲正在緩緩地、莊重地從我身邊離去，儼若退潮時的大海。經過我面前的隊伍，實際上是昨天、前天的那健美、充滿活力的年輕舞蹈家在我眼前衰老，一去不復返了。老人們以特有的風度，從容地進入舞臺。他們曾與我在一起，我曾與他們在一起，大家都稱心如意。 老人們沒有發表講話，互相間也不交談，他們在為即將開始的舞蹈養精蓄銳。 舞蹈者剛剛擺開陣勢，一名當兵的從奈洛比趕來送信給我，內稱恩戈馬舞會不得舉行。 我很不理解，這完全出乎我的意料，我只得將來信一讀再讀。送信來的士兵本人也深知他擾亂的舞會有多麼重要，他一反行伍常態，既不趾高氣揚，也不大搖大擺當兵的歷來樂於顯示他們對其他土著的威勢。他在老人們和我的僕人面前一語不發。 我在非洲的所有日子裡，還未曾有過如此痛苦的時刻。我從未感到過我的心在突如其來的風暴中如此激跳起伏。我啞口無言，此時的無聲，我心領神會了。 吉庫尤老人們呆立著，像一群老綿羊。皺巴巴的眼皮下，所有的