Helen Adams Keller：The Story of My Life (6)

海倫‧凱勒 著  東年 譯

我不記得是什麼時候開始了悟自己和別人不同；不過，在我老師來之前我就知道自己這樣的處境。我已經察覺如果我母親和我朋友希望完成任何事，是用嘴巴交談，而不是我那樣比手勢。有時候我會站在兩個交談的人中間觸摸他們的嘴唇，但是我不能知道他們在談什麼，這使我悶氣且苦惱。我嚅動嘴唇和狂亂比手畫腳，卻無效，這有時會使我生氣而亂踢和尖叫，直到筋疲力竭。

撒野的時候，我想我是有自知之明的，因為我知道我會踢疼艾菈保母，而鬧完脾氣我會感到抱歉、痛惜和遺憾。但是，我不記得這種良善的感情那一次曾經讓我自制；每當我無法清楚表示我的企圖而得不到願望，我就會重復那樣胡鬧。

那些日子中，黑人小女孩瑪莎‧華盛頓和老狗蓓兒常和我玩；瑪莎是我們家廚師的小孩，蓓兒很靈巧，牠是塞特種獵犬。瑪莎熟諳我的手勢，幾乎每次都能達成我的願望。我喜歡對她作威作福，而她通常寧可屈從我的專橫，不願冒著和我直接衝突的危險。我看起來強健、活潑、任性。我相當熟悉自己的意向，也總是一意孤行；若需要搏鬥，我會張牙舞爪拼命。我們大都在廚房幫忙揉麵糰、做冰淇淋、磨咖啡豆、做蛋糕襯墊，還有餵養聚集在廚房臺階的母雞和火雞。牠們好多是很溫馴的，會從我手上吃東西，讓我摸牠們。有一天，一隻公的大火雞從我手上搶了一個蕃茄跑開；也許是從這火雞少爺的成功得到靈感，我們搬了一個廚師剛塗好乳霜的蛋糕到柴堆裡吃個精光。後來我吃壞了肚子，想知道火雞是否也同樣受到報應。

珠雞總是在偏僻的地方築巢，在草叢中尋找珠雞蛋是我最快樂的事之一。我無法和瑪莎說我想去找珠雞蛋；但是，我將雙手放在地上表示草叢中有圓狀物，她就明白。每當我們足夠幸運找到珠雞的巢，我並不允許瑪莎把蛋帶回家；我會做出強調性的手勢，提醒她不要跌倒或把蛋破損。

穀倉、馬廄和早晚擠牛奶的圈欄，是我和瑪莎無窮的遊樂資源。擠牛奶的工人總是會讓我幫他們擠牛奶，而牛時常啟發我的好奇心。

籌備聖誕節總是我高興的事，當然我並不知道全部的細節，但是我喜愛屋裡充滿的喜氣，以及要我和瑪莎安靜而不停給予的小口美食。我們在那兒令人煩，但是，一點兒也不影響我們玩樂。他們認可我們磨香料調味料、挑揀葡萄乾或者舔忙碌的湯匙。和別人一樣，我也在床邊懸掛長襪；可是，我不記得這種讓我格外高興的禮節，也忘了讓我黎明前迫不及待醒來尋找禮物的好奇心。 

I do not remember when I first realized that I was different from other people; but I knew it before my teacher came to me. I had noticed that my mother and my friends did not use signs as I did when they wanted anything done, but talked with their mouths. Sometimes I stood between two persons who were conversing and touch ed their lips. I could not understand, and was vexed. I moved my lips and gesticulated frantically without result. This made me so angry at times that I kicked and screamed until I was exhausted.

I think I knew when I was naughty, for I knew that it hurt Ella, my nurse, to kick her, and when my fit of temper was over I had a feeling akin to regret. But I cannot remember any instance in which this feeling prevented me from repeating the naughtiness when I failed to get what I wanted.

In those days a little coloured girl, Martha Washington, the child of our cook, and Belle, an old setter, and a great hunter in her day, were my constant companions. Martha Washington understood my signs, and I seldom had any difficulty in making her do just as I wished. It pleased me to domineer over her, and she generally submitted to my tyranny rather than risk a hand-to-hand encounter. I was strong, active, indifferent to consequences. I knew my own mind well enough and always had my own way, even if I had to fight tooth and nail for it. We spent a great deal of time in the kitchen, kneading dough balls, helping make ice-cream, grinding coffee, quarreling over the cake-bowl, and feeding the hens and turkeys that swarmed about the kitchen steps. Many of them were so tame that they would eat from my hand and let me feel them. One big gobbler snatched a tomato from me one day and ran away with it. Inspired, perhaps, by Master Gobbler's success, we carried off to the woodpile a cake which the cook had just frosted, and ate every bit of it. I was quite ill afterward, and I wonder if retribution also overtook the turkey.

The guinea-fowl likes to hide her nest in out-of-the-way places, and it was one of my greatest delights to hunt for the eggs in the long grass. I could not tell Martha Washington when I wanted to go egg-hunting, but I would double my hands and put them on the ground, which meant something round in the grass, and Martha always understood. When we were fortunate enough to find a nest I never allowed her to carry the eggs home, making her understand by emphatic signs that she might fall and break them.

The sheds where the corn was stored, the stable where the horses were kept, and the yard where the cows were milked morning and evening were unfailing sources of interest to Martha and me. The milkers would let me keep my hands on the cows while they milked, and I often got well switched by the cow for my curiosity.

The making ready for Christmas was always a delight to me. Of course I did not know what it was all about, but I enjoyed the pleasant odours that filled the house and the tidbits that were given to Martha Washington and me to keep us quiet. We were sadly in the way, but that did not interfere with our pleasure in the least. They allowed us to grind the spices, pick over the raisins and lick the stirring spoons. I hung my stocking because the others did; I cannot remember, however, that the ceremony interested me especially, nor did my curiosity cause me to wake before daylight to look for my gifts.