Freshwater, Akwaeke Emezi

Beurla / Nigèiria / 2018
rabhaidhean: fèin-leòn, èiginn, droch-dhìol de chloinn, mì-rian ithe, fèin-mhurt

The worst part of embodiment is being unseen.

ciamar a sgrìobhas mi lèirmheas air leabhar a leag agus a dh’ath-thog a-rithist mi mar a rinn an leabhar seo? nuair a ràinig mi meadhan an leabhair bha agam ri dol a-mach a choiseachd airson leth-uair feuch an soilleirichinn mo cheann; chan eil mi cinnteach gun do dh’obraich e — fiù ’s às dèidh oidhche de chadal tha Freshwater fhathast a’ lìonadh m’ inntinne, a’ tarraing air mo mhothachadh.

’s e sgrìobhadair neo-bhìnearaidh Nigèiriach a th’ ann an Akwaeke Emezi, agus ’s ann air cosmas-eòlas nan Igbo a tha eadh a’ tarraing. ’s i ceist an leabhair (bha mi a’ dol a ràdh “prìomh-cheist an leabhair”, ach tha prìomh-cheistean eile ann, rud a tha ciallach airson teacsa anns a bheil iom-fhillteachd cho cudromach): “How do you survive when they place a god inside your body?” tha prìomh-charactaran an leabhair a’ com-pàirteachadh aon chuirp: Ada, boireannach daonna, agus ọgbanje, ’s e sin ri ràdh, còmhlan de dhiathan a chuireadh a-steach dha corp mus do rugadh i. tha ainmean air cuid dhiubh, ach tha a’ mhòr-chuid a’ bruidhinn mar sheòrsa còisire, sa chiad phearsa iolra, seach mar charactaran fa-leth. tha an leabhar a’ leantainn na feadhna seo a tha beò (cuid dhiubh gan aindeoin fhèin) ann an corp daonna Ada tro h-òige gu meadhan no deireadh a ficheadan (a rèir coltais).

a’ chiad rud a bu chòir dhomh a ràdh, ’s e gu bheil e cudromach, saoileam, gun a bhith a’ feuchainn ris an dàimh eadar Ada-an-daonna (“the Ada”, mar a bheir an ọgbanje oirre) agus an ọgbanje a “mhìneachadh” a rèir phrionnsabalan inntinn-eòlais/inntinn-lèighis — rud a nì cùl-chòmhdach an leabhair, a bheir a chreidsinn gur e a tha san ọgbanje ach “separate selves” a nochdas gu sònraichte às dèidh do dh’Ada “a traumatic event” fhidreadh nuair a tha i aig a’ cholaiste sna Stàitean Aonaichte. tha e fìor gum fidir i tachartas mòr-chiùrrach, ach tha na “fèinean” eadar-dhealaichte seo air a bhith ann bho rugadh i — bha iad ann mus do rugadh i, fiù ’s, mar a chìthear sna ciad chaibideilean dhen leabhar. mar sin, ged a tha an dàimh eadar Ada agus an ọgbanje (agus na mheasg, gu sònraichte, Asụghara, a’ phearsantachd shònraichte a dh’èireas às dèidh an “tachartais mhòr-chiùrraich”, .i., às dèidh do bhràmair Ada a h-èigneachadh) gu deimhinn co-cheangailte ris a’ mhòr-chiùrradh, chan ann às a sin a thàinig i — no iad.

air an làimh eile, feumar daingneachadh nach e — gu riatanach, co-dhiù — nobhail fhantasach a th’ ann am Freshwater, nas motha, ged a tha i a’ dèiligeadh ri diathan litireil. oir ’s e sin an rud cudromach: gur iad diathan litireil a th’ ann. bho chionn cuid de mhìosan a-nis tha mi air a bhith a’ meòrachadh air ceist an fhìorachais (.i., realism) ann an litreachas. ’s tric a thèid fìorachas a cho-cheangal ri beachdan an t-Soillseachaidh, diùltadh rudan “os-nàdarra”, is rudan dhen leithid sin. ach mar a dhearbhaicheas an neach-teòiridh (Marcasch, fiù ’s) Nigèiriach Chidi Amuta:

In this respect, it may be instructive to recall that what a society considers real consists of a series of relationships: between people and between people and nature, the supernatural, and the objects with which they conduct the business of daily life at a specific time. Therefore, nothing precludes realism in the literature of a given society from incorporating elements of the supernatural for as long as those elements, as active constituents of the psycho-social world, affect people’s actions at the level of material life experience. (Theory of African Literature, 127)

mar an ceudna, cha chreid mi nach canadh tu gur e a th’ ann am Freshwater ach fìorachas Igbo — mar bhun-stèidh, co-dhiù. chan eil siud ri ràdh, ge-tà, nach urrainnear ficsean speuclaireach (fantasachd no ficsean-saidheansa) a sgrìobhadh a’ tòiseachadh leis a’ bhun-stèidh seo, ge-tà, agus ged nach eil mi buileach cinnteach mun a’ chùis an seo, tha mi a’ creidsinn gur e siud a tha a’ tachairt ann am Freshwater.

an rud as motha a bheir orm seo a smaoineachadh, ’s e an dòigh sam bi an nobhail a’ dèiligeadh ri diathan eile, agus gu sònraichte ri Yshwa — ’s e sin, Ìosa Crìosd. fad na mòr-chuid dhen leabhar, tha Ada na Crìosdaidh, agus bho h-òige air adhart chì sinn — tro shùilean an ọgbanje — gu bheil Yshwa ann an da-rìribh. ’s e a th’ annsan, ge-tà, ach dia coltach ri dia sam bith eile, agus ged a tha e, gu ìre, nas tuigsinniche na an ọgbanje, anns an fharsaingeachd tha e a cheart cho fad-às ’s a tha diathan eile:

while he loves humans (he was born as one, lived and died as one), what they forget is that he loves them as a god does, which is to say, with a taste for suffering. So he watched the Ada cry herself to sleep with his wrong name [.i., Ìosa] and her mother’s held on her lips. He ran his hands along the curve of her faith and felt its strength, that it would remain steadfast whether he came to her or not. And even if it did not hold, Yshwa had no intentions of manifesting. He had endured that abomination of the physical once and it was enough, never again. Not for the heartbroken children who were suffering more than her, not for the world off a cliff, not for a honey-soaked piece of bread. We resented him for it. When his fingers came too close, we snapped our teeth at them and Yshwa withdrew, amused, and went back to his watching.

tha Yshwa a’ nochdadh bho àm gu àm tron leabhar, ach an-còmhnaidh caran mar seo, fad-às, agus an-còmhnaidh co-ionnan ris an ọgbanje agus na diathan eile. mar seo thèid fhilleadh-san a-steach do chosmas-eòlas nas fharsainge, agus chan eil còmhstri (gu riatanach) eadar e fhèin agus na diathan eile, ach eadar a luchd-leantainn (“the corrupters”, mar a th’ aig an ọgbanje orra) agus na poballan air feadh an t-saoghail nach cuir cuideam sònraichte airsan.

an rud eile a tha gu h-àraid cudromach dhan nobhail seo, ’s e an corp, rud a tha ùr is neo-dhualach dhan ọgbanje — agus dùbhlanach, cuideachd. tha am mòr-chiùrradh a dh’fhidreas Ada ga fàgail sgarte o corp fhèin. ’s ann a bheir a’ phearsantachd air an tug mi iomradh roimhe, Asụghara, ceum a-steach, mar sin, ga cuideachadh le bhith a’ stiùireadh a cuirp (agus a’ glèidheadh a h-inntinne) tro shuidheachaidhean nach eil i ag iarraidh (feis, gu sònraichte). tha dàimh chronach aig Asụghara ri corp Ada, ge-tà, agus ri beatha na feadhna mu timcheall, mar a dh’aidicheas i fhèin (.i., Asụghara fhèin). gu sònraichte aig an toiseach, tha e a’ cur Asụghara caran air mhisg, corp a bhith aice:

I appreciated it, of course—embodiment was luxurious, at least at first. I felt a new power, a flood of greatness that yes, Ada would regret later, valid, but for now it was good, rich; it meant I was an I, like I and I, like I wasn’t going back to that larger we. Ha! How can? No, I was free. I had elevated, transcended, in fact. Risen like steam until it was me standing in the field of Ada’s body. She named me this name, Asụghara, complete with that gritty slide of the throat halfway through. I hope it scrapes your mouth bloody to say it. When you name something, it comes into existence—did you know that? There is strength there, bone-white power injected in a rush, like a trembling drug.

(tha cainnt na nobhaile air fad mar an ceudna: misgeil, bras, cumhachdach, eagalach, fòirneartach — agus uabhasach àlainn.) ged nach e — mar gum b’ eadh — inneal-giùlain (.i., coping mechanism) a th’ ann an Asụghara, mar sin, chanainnsa gur ann air droch innealan-giùlain a tha an nobhail, gu ìre mhòr. air neo, ionnsachadh gun a bhith an-còmhnaidh a’ tilleadh ri droch innealan-giùlain.

tha tòrr a bharrachd a b’ urrainnear a ràdh mun leabhar seo, no fiù ’s dìreach air fear dhe na puingean seo (an corp, gu sònraichte), ach fàgaidh mi an sin e. sàr-leabhar a th’ ann, fear dhen fheadhainn as fheàrr a tha mi air leughadh am-bliadhna, no fiù ’s bho chionn cuid de bhliadhnaichean.

tùs

(air ais: prìomh-dhuilleag · lèirmheasan a rèir ùghdair · lèirmheasan a rèir dùthcha · lèirmheasan eile on Rìoghachd Aonaichte)