摩洛哥奇遇记 是婚礼还是骗局(下)
The car jostled along a bumpy road into the countryside. In the front seat, the brothers chatted in Arabic while local music played on the stereo. I began to panic. Should I open the door and dive outside on the road? Where would I run to?
汽车在一条颠簸的路上跌跌撞撞，驶入了乡下。在前排，两兄弟用阿拉伯语在聊天，车上的音响播放着当地的音乐。我开始慌张。我应该打开车门跳出去吗？我能跑到哪里呢？
We drove for nearly an hour, finally pulling into a small desert village. The car wobbled along gravel streets; half of its low-slung concrete apartment buildings demolished, the other half under construction, as though recovering from some recent war. My visions of the Arabian Nights were replaced by replays of CNN clips of Al Qaeda hideouts. Was my robe to wear for my beheading video?
我们走了将近一个小时，终于在一个荒凉的小村庄里停下。汽车在铺满砂石的街道摇摇晃晃；低矮的混凝土建筑物已有一半被拆毁，另一半尚未完工，仿佛刚经历过一场战争。《天方夜谭》的情景被 CNN 所播放的有关基地组织藏匿处的片段所取代。难道我的长袍是为了斩首视频而穿的？
I exited the car and stood on an empty street with the two “brothers” behind me. They motioned for me to put on the robe and enter the darkened building in front of us. A few men milled about in the shadows in the alley; one was viciously kicking a mule. Mustafa saw my concern and asked me what I thought.
我下了车，站在空荡的街头，那两位“兄弟”在我身后。他们示意我穿上长袍，走进我们面前黑暗的建筑里。有几个人在小巷的影子里游荡；其中一个故意在踢一头骡子。穆斯塔法看出了我的担忧，问我在想什么。
“Being a mule is a bad job in Morocco,” I replied.
“在摩洛哥做一头骡子不是个好差事，”我回答道。
He laughed and nodded.
他大笑着点头。
Feeling beyond the point of no return, I pulled the robe over my head and walked to the door. I half expected to open it and see dark, bearded men squatting around a fire, maybe armed with rifles, gazing with fierce blazing eyes and lurid smiles toward their victim dressed for slaughter.
我已别无选择，只能将长袍拉过头顶，走进那扇门。我原以为打开门后将看到黑色的、留着大胡子的人蹲在一堆火旁，可能还装备有步枪，带着冰冷残酷的眼神向穿戴好准备接受屠杀的受害者们投以恐怖的微笑。
Instead, I entered a bright, modern room crowded with a dozen sharply dressed Moroccan men in khakis and sport coats, daintily holding cups of tea. They howled with laughter at my outfit. A young girl peeked out of the kitchen and giggled. I stood stunned in the doorway, my bright red blushing face contrasting with my fresh-out-of-the-bag white robe.
相反，我所踏入的是一间明亮而现代的房间，里面挤满了穿着卡其裤和运动外套的时髦的摩洛哥男子，优雅地举着茶杯。他们看到我的穿着，爆发出了哄堂大笑。一名年轻的姑娘也从厨房探出头来咯咯地笑着。我在门口傻站着，我的明亮红润的脸色和刚穿上的白色长袍形成了鲜明的对比。
A peppy older man with ramrod straight posture marched into the party, wearing a similar robe to mine. He smiled, eyes bright with mirth as he cross-ed the room to take me by the shoulder. He patted his heart and spoke to me in Arabic.
一位精神矍铄的老人以略显僵硬的笔直姿态加入到宴会，穿着一件与我的类似的长袍。他微笑着，明亮的眼神里带着欢快，穿过房间抓住我的肩膀。他拍着自己的心口用阿拉伯语对我说话。
Mustafa translated: “My father says, ‘A thousand welcomes’. He is honoured that you have travelled so far to join us for this special occasion. And he says he really likes your djellaba.“
穆斯塔法翻译道：“我父亲说，‘非常欢迎你’。他很荣幸你赶了这么远的路来参加我们这个特殊的场合。他还说他非常喜欢你的长袍。”
Relatives began plying me with orange sodas and an assortment of home-cooked sweets. Achmed and Mustafa led me upstairs to the pre-wedding feast on a rooftop patio, where I joined a group of men and boys sitting on the floor around a giant platter. Together we broke bread and dipped it into sauces tinged with mint, saffron and honeyed yoghurt, along with some garlicky, creamy tahini. We grabbed hunks of grilled lamb on the bone, and washed it all down with sugary mint tea as we looked out over the moonlit Moroccan countryside. I felt like I had arrived in an Arabian Nights tale, and the night was only beginning.
亲属们开始不停地用橙汁汽水和各种自制甜点招待我。艾哈迈德和穆斯塔法带我上楼到屋顶露台上的婚前宴会，我加入了一群围着一台巨大唱片机席地而坐的男人和男孩。我们将面包分开，浸泡在由薄荷、藏红花和蜜糖酸奶，以及少许大蒜和芝麻酱混合而成的酱料。我们从骨头上撕下大块的烤羊肉，一边就着香甜的薄荷茶大快朵颐，一边欣赏着摩洛哥乡村月光下的美景。我想我已进入天方夜谭的传说，而这一夜只是开头。
After dinner we gathered outside the building for the wedding procession. Drummers warmed their animal-skin drums over small fires to tighten the tops. Trumpeters carrying the traditional brass nefarhorns tuned up with a flurry of toots. The bride in a shimmering white gown and jewelled tiara mounted a precarious white throne atop the long-suffering mule, while the groom leapt on another. In a cacophony of clapping, drumming, honking and ululating, this group of about 50 colourfully dressed men, women and children (and one white-robed foreigner) began a midnight march through town. Villagers emerged from their homes, rubbing sleep from their eyes to smile and clap along with the celebration.
晚宴之后我们聚集在外面，列队参加婚礼仪式。鼓手们在小火上暖着他们的兽皮鼓以使鼓顶收紧。拿着传统铜管号角的号手们在调音时发出嘟嘟的声音。新娘身穿一件闪亮的白色礼服，嵌满珍珠的头饰安放在稍显不稳的白色宝座上，由一头长久受苦的骡子驮着，新郎则跃上另一头骡子。在一通掌声、鼓声、号声和叫声的混杂中，这一支由大约 50 位衣着鲜亮的男子、妇女和儿童（还有一位穿着白色长袍的外国人）所组成的队伍开始了穿越小镇的午夜进行曲。村民们从家里出来观看，被惊扰到美梦的愤怒随着庆祝而转为微笑和掌声。
Our procession concluded in front of another nondescript cement apartment building, where the wedding party climbed to a rooftop covered in rugs, tables full of yet more treats and an endless supply of orange soda, all illuminated with strings of bare light bulbs hanging from wires. A slick-suited Moroccan band, complete with electric guitars and keyboards, burst forth with music. The brothers pulled me out to the gender-segregated dance floor for a few songs.
我们的队伍在另一处平淡无奇的水泥建筑物前面停下，在那里婚礼宴会转移到了铺满地毯的屋顶，桌子上摆满了更加丰盛的美食和无限供应的橙汁，从电线上接下来的裸露的灯泡将光线洒满每个角落。一支衣着光鲜的摩洛哥乐队，带着电吉他和键盘，爆发出了音乐。兄弟俩将我拉到了男女隔开的舞池中欣赏几曲歌声。
Befitting this mixed Arab-Berber wedding, the band left to be replaced by a traditional Berber horns-and-strings ensemble, while the bride and groom re-emerged to the roof with a new set of Berber wedding clothes, the groom dressed in a desert nomad’s robes, the bride in a billowing white dress bedecked with swaths of dangling multi-coloured jewellery. Fuelled by sugar and tea, I clapped, sang and danced along with the extended family as the band and costume changes continued until sunrise.
为了配合这场阿拉伯人和柏柏尔人之间的婚礼，乐队表演之后是一支传统的管弦合奏，而新郎新娘换了一套柏柏尔婚礼服之后再次出现在屋顶，新郎身穿一件沙漠牧民的长袍，而新娘则穿着随风飞舞的白色裙子，上面装饰以五彩斑斓的珠宝线条。在糖和茶水的刺激下，我和这个大家庭一起鼓掌、唱歌和跳舞，而乐队和礼服不停地更换，直到黎明。
When the party ended, I dozed in the car as the brothers drove me back to town, trusting they would get me wherever I needed to be. Still wearing my robe, I slept past noon in the comfortable hotel, the only effects from my abduction being a sugar hangover and a newfound appreciation that even with all the trouble in the world, sometimes a friendly invitation is simply an invitation, and a humble robe can be a treasure.
宴会结束时，两兄弟开车将我送回镇上，而我在车上不停打盹，相信他们会把我带到我想去的地方。穿着我的长袍，我在舒服的酒店里一觉睡到了午后，这次在蜜糖中宿醉的“绑架”唯一的影响和最新的体会是，纵然世界麻烦不断，有时一次善意的邀请也仅仅是一次善意的邀请，而一件简单的长袍可能成为珍宝。
