摩洛哥奇遇記 是婚禮還是騙局(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?
汽車在一條顛簸的路上跌跌撞撞，駛入了鄉下。在前排，兩兄弟用阿拉伯語在聊天，車上的音響播放着當地的音樂。我開始慌張。我應該打開車門跳出去嗎？我能跑到哪裏呢？
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?
我們走了將近一個小時，終於在一個荒涼的小村莊裏停下。汽車在鋪滿砂石的街道搖搖晃晃；低矮的混凝土建築物已有一半被拆毀，另一半尚未完工，彷彿剛經歷過一場戰爭。《天方夜譚》的情景被 CNN 所播放的有關基地組織藏匿處的片段所取代。難道我的長袍是爲了斬首視頻而穿的？
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.
我下了車，站在空蕩的街頭，那兩位“兄弟”在我身後。他們示意我穿上長袍，走進我們面前黑暗的建築裏。有幾個人在小巷的影子裏遊蕩；其中一個故意在踢一頭騾子。穆斯塔法看出了我的擔憂，問我在想什麼。
“Being a mule is a bad job in Morocco,” I replied.
“在摩洛哥做一頭騾子不是個好差事，”我回答道。
He laughed and nodded.
他大笑着點頭。
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.
我已別無選擇，只能將長袍拉過頭頂，走進那扇門。我原以爲打開門後將看到黑色的、留着大鬍子的人蹲在一堆火旁，可能還裝備有步槍，帶着冰冷殘酷的眼神向穿戴好準備接受屠殺的受害者們投以恐怖的微笑。
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，我所踏入的是一間明亮而現代的房間，裏面擠滿了穿着卡其褲和運動外套的時髦的摩洛哥男子，優雅地舉着茶杯。他們看到我的穿着，爆發出了鬨堂大笑。一名年輕的姑娘也從廚房探出頭來咯咯地笑着。我在門口傻站着，我的明亮紅潤的臉色和剛穿上的白色長袍形成了鮮明的對比。
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.
一位精神矍鑠的老人以略顯僵硬的筆直姿態加入到宴會，穿着一件與我的類似的長袍。他微笑着，明亮的眼神裏帶着歡快，穿過房間抓住我的肩膀。他拍着自己的心口用阿拉伯語對我說話。
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.“
穆斯塔法翻譯道：“我父親說，‘非常歡迎你’。他很榮幸你趕了這麼遠的路來參加我們這個特殊的場合。他還說他非常喜歡你的長袍。”
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.
親屬們開始不停地用橙汁汽水和各種自制甜點招待我。艾哈邁德和穆斯塔法帶我上樓到屋頂露臺上的婚前宴會，我加入了一羣圍着一臺巨大唱片機席地而坐的男人和男孩。我們將麪包分開，浸泡在由薄荷、藏紅花和蜜糖酸奶，以及少許大蒜和芝麻醬混合而成的醬料。我們從骨頭上撕下大塊的烤羊肉，一邊就着香甜的薄荷茶大快朵頤，一邊欣賞着摩洛哥鄉村月光下的美景。我想我已進入天方夜譚的傳說，而這一夜只是開頭。
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.
晚宴之後我們聚集在外面，列隊參加婚禮儀式。鼓手們在小火上暖着他們的獸皮鼓以使鼓頂收緊。拿着傳統銅管號角的號手們在調音時發出嘟嘟的聲音。新娘身穿一件閃亮的白色禮服，嵌滿珍珠的頭飾安放在稍顯不穩的白色寶座上，由一頭長久受苦的騾子馱着，新郎則躍上另一頭騾子。在一通掌聲、鼓聲、號聲和叫聲的混雜中，這一支由大約 50 位衣着鮮亮的男子、婦女和兒童（還有一位穿着白色長袍的外國人）所組成的隊伍開始了穿越小鎮的午夜進行曲。村民們從家裏出來觀看，被驚擾到美夢的憤怒隨着慶祝而轉爲微笑和掌聲。
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.
我們的隊伍在另一處平淡無奇的水泥建築物前面停下，在那裏婚禮宴會轉移到了鋪滿地毯的屋頂，桌子上擺滿了更加豐盛的美食和無限供應的橙汁，從電線上接下來的裸露的燈泡將光線灑滿每個角落。一支衣着光鮮的摩洛哥樂隊，帶着電吉他和鍵盤，爆發出了音樂。兄弟倆將我拉到了男女隔開的舞池中欣賞幾曲歌聲。
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.
爲了配合這場阿拉伯人和柏柏爾人之間的婚禮，樂隊表演之後是一支傳統的管絃合奏，而新郎新娘換了一套柏柏爾婚禮服之後再次出現在屋頂，新郎身穿一件沙漠牧民的長袍，而新娘則穿着隨風飛舞的白色裙子，上面裝飾以五彩斑斕的珠寶線條。在糖和茶水的刺激下，我和這個大家庭一起鼓掌、唱歌和跳舞，而樂隊和禮服不停地更換，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.
宴會結束時，兩兄弟開車將我送回鎮上，而我在車上不停打盹，相信他們會把我帶到我想去的地方。穿着我的長袍，我在舒服的酒店裏一覺睡到了午後，這次在蜜糖中宿醉的“綁架”唯一的影響和最新的體會是，縱然世界麻煩不斷，有時一次善意的邀請也僅僅是一次善意的邀請，而一件簡單的長袍可能成爲珍寶。
