درب الموتى
Dead Men's Path
قصة قصيرة
بقلم: شينوا اشيبي* (1930- )
CHINUA ACHEBE
ترجمة: د. فراس عالم
لم يكن (مايكل اوبي) يتوقع أن تتحقق أمنياته بهذه السرعة ، فقد تم تعينه مديراً لمدرسة( ندوم )المركزية في يناير 1949. كانت المدرسة من المدارس المتأخرة في المنطقة و قد قرر المسؤلون إسناد إدارتها إلى مدرس شاب و نشيط لإصلاح شأنها. قبل (اوبي) المهمة بحماسة و وجدها فرصة مناسبة لتطبيق أفكاره الخلاقة على أرض الواقع.
حصل (اوبي) على تعليم ثانوي متميز نال بفضله لقب "مدرس أول" في التقارير المهنية مما جعله متفوقا على زملائه من مدراء المدارس الآخرين. كما كان صريحا في انتقاده لضيق الأفق الذي يلازم زملائه الأكبر سناً و الأقل تعليماً.
-"سنقوم بعمل رائع في تلك المدرسة" كانت تلك هي العبارة التي قالها لزوجته الشابة عند سماعه خبر ترقيته المبهج
-"سنقدم أفضل ما عندنا" أجابته زوجته ، ثم تابعت " سيكون لمنزلنا هناك حديقة جميلة و سأجعل كل شيء فيه حديثاً و عصرياً"
خلال فترة زواجهما البالغة عامين تمكن مايكل أن ينقل لها عدوى حماسته للحداثة و نفوره من "المدرسين القدامى و التقليدين الذين يراهم أقرب إلى الباعة في سوق شعبي منهم إلى التدريس".
أخذت تتخيل نفسها وهي محط الإعجاب كزوجة للمدير الشاب و ملكة للمدرسة، وبالطبع ستحسدها زوجات المدرسين على مكانتها، ستعتني بكافة التفاصيل في المدرسة ...و فجأة خطرت ببالها فكرة ألا يكون هناك زوجات أخريات معها، متأرجحة بين الخوف والرجاء سألت زوجها عن وضع زملائه المدرسين و هي تترقب إجابته بقلق.
-"كل زملائنا هناك من الشباب و غير متزوجين" أجابها بحماسة لم تشعر في هذه المرة أنها تشاركه فيها، لكنه تابع
_" وهذا أمر جيد!"
-" لماذا؟"
-" لماذا؟ لأنهم سيكرسون كامل وقتهم و جهدهم للمدرسة"
شعرت (نانسي) بالاكتئاب، ولدقائق قليلة أصبحت تشكك في جدوى الانتقال للمدرسة الجديدة، لكن امتعاضها سرعان ما تلاشى أمام سعادة زوجها وآماله الكبيرة. أخذت تتأمله وهو جالس بوضع منحني على المقعد، كان أحدب الكتفين ويبدو لمن يراه هشاً و سهل الكسر لكنه في بعض الأحيان يفاجئ الآخرين بموجة من الطاقة البدنية الهائلة. بدا لها في مجلسه في تلك اللحظة أن مصدر كل تلك الطاقة يكمن في نظرة عينيه الغائرتين والتي تمنحه قدرة عاتية على الاختراق. كان في السادسة و العشرين من العمر لكن يبدو و كأنه في الثلاثين أو أكبر و في العموم لم يكن يخلو من وسامة ظاهرة.
-" بنس مقابل ما تفكر فيه يا مايك" قالتها (نانسي) بعد برهة صمت مقلدة المجلات النسائية التي تقرأها
-" كنت أفكر في الفرصة العظيمة التي حصلنا عليها لنري الناس كيف تدار المدرسة كما ينبغي"
كانت مدرسة (ندوم) متخلفة بكل ما تحمله الكلمة من معنى و قد كرس لها الأستاذ (اوبي) و زوجته كامل وقتهما وقد جعل نصب عينية هدفين رئيسيين ، تقديم مستوى عال من التعليم و تحويل مبنى المدرسة إلى مكان يشع بالجمال، وقد تحقق حلم زوجته بالحديقة المزهرة عندما هطلت الأمطار و تفتحت الورد الحمراء و الصفراء على شجيرات (الهيبيكوس) و (الالماندا) المكونة لسياج الحديقة المحيط بفناء المدرسة من الخارج في منظر بديع.
ذات يوم و بينما كان أوبي يتأمل نتاج عمله بإعجاب رأى منظراً أشعره بالخزي، فقد رأى امرأه قروية عجوز تعرج عابرة فناء المدرسة و قد داست حوض أزهار (الماري جولد) و سياج الشجيرات القصير. و بتفحصه للمكان أبصر أثراً باهتاً لطريق مهجور يمر عبر فناء المدرسة رابطاً بين القرية و بين الدغل في الجهة الأخرى.
-" أنا مندهش" قالها اوبي لأحد المدرسين -و الذي قضى ثلاث سنوات في المدرسة- ثم هز رأسه منفعلا و تابع
-" كيف تسمحون للقروين باستخدام طريق يمر عبر المدرسة؟ هذا ببساطة لا يعقل"
أجابه المدرس معتذراً
-" ذلك الطريق مقدس جداً عند القروين، فهو يربط بين المقام المقدس في القرية و بين المدافن، كما أنه نادراً ما يستخدم"
-" و ما علاقة المدرسة بكل هذا؟" تساءل المدير
هز المدرس كتفه قبل أن يجيب
-" لا أدري، لكنني أتذكر أن شجاراً كبيراً حصل منذ زمن عندما حاولنا إغلاق الطريق"
-" كان هذا في ما مضى. لكنه لن يستخدم بعد اليوم" قال له المدير و هو يبتعد بخطوات حازمة و يضيف
" ما الذي سيقوله عنا مدير التعليم عندما يأتي في جولته التفتيشية الأسبوع القادم؟ ربما سيجد القروين و قد احتلوا غرفة في المدرسة لممارسة طقوسهم الوثنية فيها وقت زيارته".
تم غرس قضبان ثقيلة على مسافات متقاربة لتسد الطريق من مدخله و مخرجه في طرفي فناء المدرسة، كما تمت تقويتها بأسلاك شائكة لفت من حولها.
بعد ثلاثة أيام قدم كاهن القرية للمدرسة طالباً مقابلة المدير، كان رجلا متقدما في السن محدودب الظهر يستعين بعصا غليظة لمساعدته في المشي و كان يطرق بها الأرض بقوة عندما يشدد على نقاط مهمة في حديثه. و بعد تبادل الأحاديث الودية شرع الكاهن في الكلام
-" لقد نما إلى علمي أن درب الأسلاف قد تم إغلاقه"
-" أجل" أجابه السيد (أوبي)، ثم تابع" لا نستطيع أن ان نجعل الناس تتخذ من فناء المدرسة طريقاً عاماً"
طرق الكاهن العجوز على الارض بعصاه ثم قال
" أنظر يا بني، هذا الطريق موجود قبل أن تولد أنت، و قبل أن يولد أبوك، حياة القرية بالكامل تعتمد على هذا الطريق. أقاربنا الموتى يغادرون عبره، و سلافنا يزروننا عبره، لكن الأهم من ذلك إنه الطريق الذي يأتي من خلاله الأطفال الذين سيولدون"
استمع السيد أوبي لحديث الرجل و على وجهه ابتسامة رضى ثم أجابه
-" الهدف الاساسي لوجود مدرستنا هو اقتلاع هذه المعتقدات من العقول، الموتى لا يحتاجون ممشى على الأرض، الفكرة بكاملها خرافة. مهمتنا هنا هي تعليم الأطفال أن يسخروا من مثل هذه الأفكار"
-" قد يكون ما تقوله صحيحاً" أجابه الكاهن العجوز ثم أضاف " لكننا نتبع ما كان يفعله أباؤنا، و إذا فتحت الطريق لن يكون لدينا ما نتشاجر بشأنه. ما أردده دائماً: دع الصقر يحط رحالة و دع النسر يفعل ذلك أيضاً". و هم الرجل بالنهوض
رد عليه المدير الشاب
-" أنا آسف. لا يمكن أن نجعل فناء المدرسة طريقاً عاماً. إن ذلك مخالف للأنظمة، ما رايك في أن تقيموا طريقاً آخر يلتف حول المبنى، و سوف نجعل الأولاد يساعدونكم في إنشائه، لا أعتقد أن الأسلاف سيجدون الانعطاف البسيط أمراً مرهقاً لهم"
-" لا يوجد لدي شيء لأضيفه" قال الرجل العجوز و هو يغادر المكان.
عد ذلك الحديث بيومين توفيت امراة قروية خلال ولادة متعسرة، تمت استشارة عراف القرية فأمر بتقديم تضحيات عظيمة لاسترضاء الأسلاف الذين تمت إهانتهم بالسياج الذي سد الدرب المقدس.
استيقظ الأستاذ (أوبي) في صباح اليوم التالي على الخراب الذي حل بمدرسته، حيث تم تدمير الأسيجة النباتية الجميلة ليس فقط من ناحية الدرب المسدود بل من جميع الجهات المحيطة بالفناء، كما تم دهس الأزهار الجميلة بلا شفقة، بل إن أحد مباني المدرسة تم هدمه...
صادف ذلك اليوم يوم زيارة مشرف التعليم ذي الأصول البيضاء للتفتيش على المدرسة، والذي كتب تقريراً سيئاً عن حالة المبنى لكن الاسوأ كان ما كتبه عن " حالة الحرب و العداء بين المدرسة و القرية و التي سببها الحماسة الغير رشيدة لمدير المدرسة الجديد"
* شينوا أشيبي: كاتب نيجيري يكتب بالانجليزية.
النص الأصلي بالانجليزية
Dead Men's Path
Chinua Achebe
Chinua Achebe
Michael Obi's hopes were fulfilled much ear-lier than he had expected. He was appointed headmaster of Ndume Central School1 in Janu-ary 1949. It had always been an unprogressive school, so the Mission authorities decided to send a young and energetic man to run it. Obi accepted this responsibility with enthusiasm. He had many wonderful ideas and this was an op-portunity to put them into practice. He had had sound secondary school education which desig-nated him a "pivotal teacher" in the official rec-ords and set him apart from the other headmas-ters in the mission field. He was outspoken in his condemnation of the narrow views of these older and often less-educated ones.
"We shall make a good job of it, shan't we?" he asked his young wife when they first heard the joyful news of his promotion.
"We shall do our best," she replied. "We shall have such beautiful gardens and everything will be just modern and delightful. . . ." In their two years of married life she had become completely infected by his passion for "modern methods" and his denigration of "these old and superannu-ated people in the teaching field who would be better employed as traders in the Onitsha2 mar-ket." She began to see herself already as the admired wife of the young headmaster, the queen of the school.
The wives of the other teachers would envy her position. She would set the fashion in every-thing. . . . Then, suddenly, it occurred to her that there might not be other wives. Wavering between hope and fear, she asked her husband, looking anxiously at him.
"All our colleagues are young and unmar-ried," he said with enthusiasm, which for once she did not share. "Which is a good thing," he continued.
"Why?"
"Why? They will give all their time and en-ergy to the school."
Nancy was downcast. For a few minutes she became skeptical about the new school; but it was only for a few minutes. Her little personal misfortune could not blind her to her husband's happy prospects. She looked at him as he sat folded up in a chair. He was stoop-shouldered and looked frail. But he sometimes surprised people with sudden bursts of physical energy. In his present posture, however, all his bodily strength seemed to have retired behind his deep-set eyes, giving them an extraordinary power of penetration. He was only twenty-six, but looked thirty or more. On the whole, he was not unhandsome.
"A penny for your thoughts, Mike," said Nancy after a while, imitating the woman's mag-azine she read.
"I was thinking what a grand opportunity we've got at last to show these people how a school should be run."
Ndume School was backward in every sense of the word. Mr. Obi put his whole life into the work, and his wife hers too. He had two aims. A high standard of teaching was insisted upon, and the school compound was to be turned into a place of beauty. Nancy's dream-gardens came to life with the coming of the rains, and blossomed. Beautiful hibiscus and alla-manda hedges in brilliant red and yellow marked out the carefully tended school com-pound from the rank neighborhood bushes.
One evening as Obi was admiring his work he was scandalized to see an old woman from the village hobble right across the compound, through a marigold flower-bed and the hedges. On going up there he found faint signs of an al-most disused path from the village across the school compound to the bush on the other side.
"It amazes me," said Obi to one of his teach-ers who had been three years in the school, "that you people allowed the villagers to make use of this footpath. It is simply incredible." He shook his head.
"The path," said the teacher apologetically, "appears to be very important to them. Although it is hardly used, it connects the village shrine with their place of burial."
"And what has that got to do with the school?" asked the headmaster.
"Well, I don't know," replied the other with a shrug of the shoulders. "But I remember there was a big row3 some time ago when we at-tempted to close it."
"That was some time ago. But it will not be used now," said Obi as he walked away. "What will the iiovernment Education Officer think of this when he comes to inspect the school next week? The villagers might, for all I know, decide to use the schoolroom for a pagan ritual during the inspection."
Heavy sticks were planted closely across the path at the two places where it entered and left the school premises. These were further strengthened with barbed wire.
Three days later the village priest of Ani4 called on the headmaster. He was an old man and walked with a slight stoop. He carried a stout walking-stick which he usually tapped on the floor, by way of emphasis, each time he made a new point in his argument.
"I have heard," he said after the usual ex change of cordialities, "that our ancestral foot-path has recently been closed. . . ."
"Yes," replied Mr. Obi. "We cannot allow people to make a highway of our school com-pound."
"Look here, my son," said the priest bringing down his walking-stick, "this path was here be-fore you were born and before your father was born. The whole life of this village depends on it. Our dead relatives depart by it and our ances-tors visit us by it. But most important, it is the path of children coming in to be born. . . ."
Mr. Obi listened with a satisfied smile on his face.
"The whole purpose of our school," he said finally, "is to eradicate just such beliefs as that. Dead men do not require footpaths. The whole idea is just fantastic. Our duty is to teach your children to laugh at such ideas."
"What you say may be true," replied the priest, "but we follow the practices of our fa-thers. If you reopen the path we shall have noth-ing to quarrel about. What I always say is: let the hawk perch and let the eagle perch." He rose to go.
"1 am sorry," said the young headmaster. "But the school compound cannot be a thor-oughfare. It is against our regulations. I would suggest your constructing another path, skirting our premises. We can even get our boys to help in building it. I don't suppose the ancestors will find the little detour too burdensome."
"I have no more words to say," said the old priest, already outside.
Two days later a young woman in the village died in childbed.5 A diviner6 was immediately consulted and he prescribed heavy sacrifices to propitiate ancestors insulted by the fence.
Obi woke up next morning among the ruins of his work. The beautiful hedges were torn up not just near the path but right round the school, the flowers trampled to death and one of the school buildings pulled down. . . . That day, the white Supervisor came to inspect the school and wrote a nasty report on the state of the premises but more seriously about the "tribal-war situation developing between the school and the village, arising in part from the mis-guided zeal of the new headmaster."
"We shall make a good job of it, shan't we?" he asked his young wife when they first heard the joyful news of his promotion.
"We shall do our best," she replied. "We shall have such beautiful gardens and everything will be just modern and delightful. . . ." In their two years of married life she had become completely infected by his passion for "modern methods" and his denigration of "these old and superannu-ated people in the teaching field who would be better employed as traders in the Onitsha2 mar-ket." She began to see herself already as the admired wife of the young headmaster, the queen of the school.
The wives of the other teachers would envy her position. She would set the fashion in every-thing. . . . Then, suddenly, it occurred to her that there might not be other wives. Wavering between hope and fear, she asked her husband, looking anxiously at him.
"All our colleagues are young and unmar-ried," he said with enthusiasm, which for once she did not share. "Which is a good thing," he continued.
"Why?"
"Why? They will give all their time and en-ergy to the school."
Nancy was downcast. For a few minutes she became skeptical about the new school; but it was only for a few minutes. Her little personal misfortune could not blind her to her husband's happy prospects. She looked at him as he sat folded up in a chair. He was stoop-shouldered and looked frail. But he sometimes surprised people with sudden bursts of physical energy. In his present posture, however, all his bodily strength seemed to have retired behind his deep-set eyes, giving them an extraordinary power of penetration. He was only twenty-six, but looked thirty or more. On the whole, he was not unhandsome.
"A penny for your thoughts, Mike," said Nancy after a while, imitating the woman's mag-azine she read.
"I was thinking what a grand opportunity we've got at last to show these people how a school should be run."
Ndume School was backward in every sense of the word. Mr. Obi put his whole life into the work, and his wife hers too. He had two aims. A high standard of teaching was insisted upon, and the school compound was to be turned into a place of beauty. Nancy's dream-gardens came to life with the coming of the rains, and blossomed. Beautiful hibiscus and alla-manda hedges in brilliant red and yellow marked out the carefully tended school com-pound from the rank neighborhood bushes.
One evening as Obi was admiring his work he was scandalized to see an old woman from the village hobble right across the compound, through a marigold flower-bed and the hedges. On going up there he found faint signs of an al-most disused path from the village across the school compound to the bush on the other side.
"It amazes me," said Obi to one of his teach-ers who had been three years in the school, "that you people allowed the villagers to make use of this footpath. It is simply incredible." He shook his head.
"The path," said the teacher apologetically, "appears to be very important to them. Although it is hardly used, it connects the village shrine with their place of burial."
"And what has that got to do with the school?" asked the headmaster.
"Well, I don't know," replied the other with a shrug of the shoulders. "But I remember there was a big row3 some time ago when we at-tempted to close it."
"That was some time ago. But it will not be used now," said Obi as he walked away. "What will the iiovernment Education Officer think of this when he comes to inspect the school next week? The villagers might, for all I know, decide to use the schoolroom for a pagan ritual during the inspection."
Heavy sticks were planted closely across the path at the two places where it entered and left the school premises. These were further strengthened with barbed wire.
Three days later the village priest of Ani4 called on the headmaster. He was an old man and walked with a slight stoop. He carried a stout walking-stick which he usually tapped on the floor, by way of emphasis, each time he made a new point in his argument.
"I have heard," he said after the usual ex change of cordialities, "that our ancestral foot-path has recently been closed. . . ."
"Yes," replied Mr. Obi. "We cannot allow people to make a highway of our school com-pound."
"Look here, my son," said the priest bringing down his walking-stick, "this path was here be-fore you were born and before your father was born. The whole life of this village depends on it. Our dead relatives depart by it and our ances-tors visit us by it. But most important, it is the path of children coming in to be born. . . ."
Mr. Obi listened with a satisfied smile on his face.
"The whole purpose of our school," he said finally, "is to eradicate just such beliefs as that. Dead men do not require footpaths. The whole idea is just fantastic. Our duty is to teach your children to laugh at such ideas."
"What you say may be true," replied the priest, "but we follow the practices of our fa-thers. If you reopen the path we shall have noth-ing to quarrel about. What I always say is: let the hawk perch and let the eagle perch." He rose to go.
"1 am sorry," said the young headmaster. "But the school compound cannot be a thor-oughfare. It is against our regulations. I would suggest your constructing another path, skirting our premises. We can even get our boys to help in building it. I don't suppose the ancestors will find the little detour too burdensome."
"I have no more words to say," said the old priest, already outside.
Two days later a young woman in the village died in childbed.5 A diviner6 was immediately consulted and he prescribed heavy sacrifices to propitiate ancestors insulted by the fence.
Obi woke up next morning among the ruins of his work. The beautiful hedges were torn up not just near the path but right round the school, the flowers trampled to death and one of the school buildings pulled down. . . . That day, the white Supervisor came to inspect the school and wrote a nasty report on the state of the premises but more seriously about the "tribal-war situation developing between the school and the village, arising in part from the mis-guided zeal of the new headmaster."
No comments:
Post a Comment