摩洛哥奇遇记 是婚礼还是骗局(中)

“Achmed,” I said, “I can’t pay that much for a robe I’m only going to wear once.”

“艾哈迈德，”我说，“我不能为一件只穿一次的长袍而付这么多钱。”

“No, no, this is a fine robe, you have excellent taste. It will be very comfortable. And useful. You can wear it around your house, in your garden, anywhere. Cool in summer, warm in winter. How much can you pay?”

“不，不，这是一件很好的长袍，你的品味很不错。它穿着也很舒服。还很有用。你可以在房子周围穿，在花园穿，任何地方都可以。冬暖夏凉。你能付多少呢？”

“I only have about 350 dirham to spare.”

“我只能付大约350迪拉姆。”

Achmed returned to say he was able to purchase the robe for 340 dirham, with 10 left over for a rope belt. “And to get that price, I tell you it was like pulling teeth.” He made vigorous yanking Motions with his hand.

艾哈迈德返回去说他可以用340迪拉姆买下这件长袍，剩下的10块可以买一条腰带。“要砍到那个价格，我告诉你就像是拔牙一样。”他用手做了一个猛拉的动作。

After leading me back to my hotel, Achmed promised to return in an hour to drive me to the wedding. I figured now that they had collected their commissions, it would be the last I’d see of the so-called brothers.

在带我返回酒店之后，艾哈迈德承诺一个小时之后回来带我去参加婚礼。我想现在他们已经拿到了佣金，我应该不会再见到这对所谓的兄弟了。

Robe in a plastic bag at my side, I sat outside at a nearby cafe. The smell of grilled lamb wafted through the air, the smoke rising to meet the call to prayer from the tower of a nearby mosque. Well-dressed Moroccan men, alone or in pairs, filled the cafe tables, sipping tea and sodas, smoking cigarettes. Not one of them was wearing a robe.

我坐在附近的一家咖啡馆里，塑料袋里的长袍放在身旁。烤羊肉的味道在空气中弥漫，升腾而起的烟雾与来自附近一家清真寺塔楼的祷告声交相辉映。衣着得体的摩洛哥男子，或独身或成双，坐满了咖啡馆，轻啜茶水和苏打，吸着香烟。没有人穿着长袍。

The man sitting at the table next to mine leaned over to say, “A thousand welcomes to Morocco,” with his hand over his heart.

坐在我旁边桌的男子斜身过来说：“非常欢迎来到摩洛哥，”他的手放在心口。

“A thousand thank yous,” I answered, not knowing the proper response.

“非常感谢，”我答道，不知道如何回答为好。

“So did you meet some men on the train?”

“你在火车上认识了一些人？”

“What? How did you know that?”

“什么？你怎么知道？”

“I saw you with them at the train station. Did they bring you to a hotel? Ask you to buy things?”

“我在火车站看到你和他们在一起。他们带你到了一家酒店？让你去买东西？”

“Um, yes.”

“嗯，是的。”

“Be very careful,” he said, then stood and walked away, inclining his head and tapping his heart again as a farewell.

“一定要小心，”他说，然后就站起来离开了，低下头再一次拍着他的心口以作道别。

My worry increased. I knew little about my current location and two men had promised to drive me somewhere completely unknown. And a stranger had just warned me about them.

我的担心加重了。我对自己当前的位置几乎一无所知，而那两个人承诺要带我去一个完全未知的地方。而一位陌生人刚刚警告我要小心他们。

As I picked over a pastry and sipped a cup of mint tea, a beat-up Honda pulled to the curb. Mustafa smiled and nodded from the driver’s seat. Achmed jumped out of the passenger side and opened the back door. “Hurry, it is time to go!”

就在我拿起一块点心并喝着薄荷茶的时候，一辆老旧的本田车停在了路边。穆斯塔法坐在司机的位置，微笑着朝我点头。艾哈迈德从副驾驶位置下车并打开了后排车门。“快点，我们要出发了！”

“So soon? But where are your robes?”

“这么快？但是你们的长袍呢？”

Achmed laughed, “Oh, we have them in the trunk. We change at the wedding. Get in, we go now.” A car honked behind them.

艾哈迈德笑着说：“哦，我们的长袍在行李箱里面。我们在婚礼的时候会换上。上车，我们现在出发。”后面的车在鸣笛催促。

I wondered what I should do. This could very well be a kidnapping, a robbery or worse. In my moment of internal debate, the deciding factor was my robe. The purchase of traditional formalwear seemed like a totally unnecessary step in an abduction. So I grabbed what had now become my Moroccan security blanket and hopped into the car.

我不知道该怎么办。这很有可能是一场绑架、抢劫甚至更加严重。在我内心挣扎的时候，我的长袍成了决定因素。购买一件传统的礼服看上去是绑架案件中完全不必要的步骤。因此我抓起现已成为我的摩洛哥安全毛毯然后跳上车。

Instead of a short ride to a hotel or convention hall for the wedding, we drove out of town and into the darkness of the desert.

我们并没有短途驾驶到举行婚礼的酒店或宴会厅，而是开出了城镇进入到荒漠的黑暗中。

“So where, exactly, are we going?” I asked.

“那么我们到底要去哪里？”我问道。

“To the wedding, of course,” was all Achmed would say.

“当然是去婚礼现场，”艾哈迈德只说了这么一句。