Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie: The danger of a single story | TED

Translator: Martina Mrsnik Reviewer: TEDx Ljubljana

I'm a storyteller.

Pripovedujem zgodbe.

And I would like to tell you a few personal stories

In rada bi vam povedala par osebnih zgodb

about what I like to call "the danger of the single story."

o tem, čemur pravim "nevarnost edine zgodbe".

I grew up on a university campus in eastern Nigeria.

Odraščala sem v univerzitetnem kampusu v vzhodni Nigeriji.

My mother says that I started reading at the age of two,

Mama pravi, da sem začela brati pri dveh letih;

although I think four is probably close to the truth.

a mislim, da je pri štirih bližje resnici.

So I was an early reader,

Torej sem bila zgodnja bralka.

and what I read were British and American children's books.

In kar sem brala, so bile angleške in ameriške otroške knjige.

I was also an early writer,

Bila sem tudi zgodnja pisateljica.

and when I began to write, at about the age of seven,

Ko sem pri približno sedmih letih začela pisati zgodbe,

stories in pencil with crayon illustrations

s svinčnikom in barvnimi ilustracijami,

that my poor mother was obligated to read,

ki jih je morala brati moja uboga mama,

I wrote exactly the kinds of stories I was reading:

sem pisala ravno takšne zgodbe, kot sem jih brala.

All my characters were white and blue-eyed,

Vsi moji liki so bili beli, z modrimi očmi.

they played in the snow,

Igrali so se v snegu.

they ate apples,

Jedli so jabolka.

(Laughter)

(smeh)

and they talked a lot about the weather,

In veliko so govorili o vremenu,

how lovely it was that the sun had come out.

o tem kako je lepo, da se je pokazalo sonce.

(Laughter)

(smeh)

Now, this despite the fact that I lived in Nigeria.

In to, kljub temu, da sem živela v Nigeriji

I had never been outside Nigeria.

in da do takrat še nisem bila nikjer izven Nigerije.

We didn't have snow, we ate mangoes,

Nismo imeli snega. Jedli smo mango.

and we never talked about the weather,

In nikoli nismo govorili o vremenu,

because there was no need to.

ker ni bilo potrebe.

My characters also drank a lot of ginger beer,

Moji liki so tudi pili veliko ingverjevega piva,

because the characters in the British books I read

saj so liki iz angleških knjig, ki sem jih brala,

drank ginger beer.

pili ingverjevo pivo.

Never mind that I had no idea what ginger beer was.

Da ne govorim o tem, da nisem vedela, kaj ingverjevo pivo sploh je.

(Laughter)

(smeh)

And for many years afterwards,

Tudi po mnogo letih

I would have a desperate desire to taste ginger beer.

sem imela nezadržno željo, da bi poskusila ingverjevo pivo.

But that is another story.

Ampak to je druga zgodba.

What this demonstrates, I think,

Po mojem mnenju to prikazuje,

is how impressionable and vulnerable we are

kako smo občutljivi in pod vtisom,

in the face of a story,

ko se seznanimo z zgodbo,

particularly as children.

še posebno, ko smo otroci.

Because all I had read were books in which characters were foreign,

Ker je bilo vse, kar sem brala, knjige, kjer so bili liki tuji,

I had become convinced that books

sem bila prepričana, da v knjigah,

by their very nature had to have foreigners in them

morajo nastopati tujci

and had to be about things with which I could not personally identify.

in da morajo biti o stvareh, s katerimi se nisem osebno identificirala.

Now, things changed when I discovered African books.

Stvari so se spremenile, ko sem spoznala afriške knjige.

There weren't many of them available,

Ni jih bilo veliko na voljo.

In ni jih bilo tako lahko najti kot tuje.

and they weren't quite as easy to find as the foreign books.

But because of writers like Chinua Achebe and Camara Laye,

Ampak zaradi pisateljev, kot sta Chinua Achebe in Camara Laye,

I went through a mental shift in my perception of literature.

sem doživela miselni preklop v dojemanju literature.

I realized that people like me,

Spoznala sem, da ljudje kot jaz,

girls with skin the color of chocolate,

dekleta s čokoladno barvo kože,

whose kinky hair could not form ponytails,

ki si s svojimi zvitimi lasmi ne morejo speti čopa,

could also exist in literature.

tudi lahko obstajajo v literaturi.

I started to write about things I recognized.

Začela sem pisati o stvareh, ki sem jih prepoznala.

Now, I loved those American and British books I read.

Seveda sem imela rada tiste ameriške in angleške knjige, ki sem jih brala.

They stirred my imagination. They opened up new worlds for me.

Razburkale so mojo domišljijo. Odprle so mi nove svetove.

But the unintended consequence

Ampak posledično, nenamenoma,

was that I did not know that people like me

nisem vedela, da ljudje kot jaz

could exist in literature.

lahko obstajajo v književnosti.

So what the discovery of African writers did for me was this:

Torej, kaj mi je odkrijte afriških pisateljev prineslo:

It saved me from having a single story of what books are.

rešilo me je pred eno samo zgodbo o tem, kaj so knjige.

I come from a conventional, middle-class Nigerian family.

Prihajam iz konvencionalne nigerijske družine srednjega razreda.

My father was a professor.

Moj oče je bil profesor.

My mother was an administrator.

Mama je bila uradnica.

And so we had, as was the norm,

In tako smo imeli, kot je bila navada,

live-in domestic help, who would often come from nearby rural villages.

hišnega pomočnika, pogosto iz bližnjih vasi.

So, the year I turned eight, we got a new house boy.

Ko sem bila stara osem let, smo dobili novega hišnega pomočnika.

His name was Fide.

Ime mu je bilo Fide.

The only thing my mother told us about him was that his family was very poor.

Mama nam je o njem povedala le to, da je njegova družina zelo revna.

My mother sent yams and rice, and our old clothes, to his family.

Moja mama je pošiljala jam in riž ter naša stara oblačila njegovi družini.

And when I didn't finish my dinner, my mother would say,

In če nisem pojedla vse večerje, je moja mama rekla:

"Finish your food! Don't you know? People like Fide's family have nothing."

"Pojej vse! Ali ne veš? Ljudje kot Fidejeva družina nimajo ničesar."

So I felt enormous pity for Fide's family.

Tako sem čutila ogromno pomilovanja do Fidejeve družine.

Then one Saturday, we went to his village to visit,

Nato pa smo eno soboto šli v njegovo vas na obisk.

and his mother showed us a beautifully patterned basket

In njegova mama nam je pokazala košaro s čudovitim vzorcem,

made of dyed raffia that his brother had made.

narejeno iz pobarvane rafije, ki jo je naredil njegov brat.

I was startled.

Osupnilo me je.

It had not occurred to me that anybody in his family

Nikoli si ne bi mislila, da kdorkoli v tej družini

could actually make something.

lahko nekaj naredi.

All I had heard about them was how poor they were,

Vse, kar sem slišala o njih, je bilo to, kako so revni,

so that it had become impossible for me to see them as anything else but poor.

tako je zame bilo nemogoče, da bi jih videla kakorkoli drugače kot revne.

Their poverty was my single story of them.

Njihova revščina je bila moja edina zgodba o njih.

Years later, I thought about this when I left Nigeria

Leta pozneje sem o tem razmišljala, ko sem zapustila Nigerijo

to go to university in the United States.

in šla na univerzo v Združene države.

I was 19.

Imela sem 19 let.

My American roommate was shocked by me.

Moja ameriška sostanovalka je bila šokirana nad mano.

She asked where I had learned to speak English so well,

Vprašala me je, kje sem se naučila govoriti angleščino tako dobro.

and was confused when I said that Nigeria

In bila je zmedena, ko sem rekla,

happened to have English as its official language.

da je v Nigeriji angleščina uradni jezik.

She asked if she could listen to what she called my "tribal music,"

Vprašala me je, če lahko posluša, kar je imenovala mojo "plemensko glasbo,"

and was consequently very disappointed

in je bila potem zelo razočarana,

when I produced my tape of Mariah Carey.

ko sem zavrtela kaseto Mariah Carey.

(Laughter)

(smeh)

She assumed that I did not know how to use a stove.

Domnevala je, da ne znam uporabljati pečice.

What struck me was this:

Kar me je presunilo, je bilo to:

She had felt sorry for me even before she saw me.

smilila sem se ji, še preden me je videla.

Her default position toward me, as an African,

Njen pogled name, kot Afričanke,

was a kind of patronizing, well-meaning pity.

je bilo na nek način pokroviteljsko, dobromisleče pomilovanje.

My roommate had a single story of Africa:

Moja sostanovalka je poznala samo eno zgodbo o Afriki.

a single story of catastrophe.

Eno zgodbo o katastrofi.

In this single story,

V tej edini zgodbi ni bilo možnosti,

there was no possibility of Africans being similar to her in any way,

da so ji Afričani podobni v kakršnemkoli smislu.

no possibility of feelings more complex than pity,

Ni bilo možnosti za bolj kompleksna čustva od pomilovanja.

no possibility of a connection as human equals.

Ni bilo možnosti povezati se z njimi kot soljudmi.

I must say that before I went to the U.S.,

Moram reči, da se, preden sem šla v ZDA,

I didn't consciously identify as African.

nisem zavestno identificirala kot Afričanka.

But in the U.S., whenever Africa came up, people turned to me.

A v ZDA, kadarkoli je kdo omenil Afriko, so se ljudje obrnili name.

Never mind that I knew nothing about places like Namibia.

In nič zato, če nisem vedela nič o krajih, kot je Namibija.

But I did come to embrace this new identity,

Ampak sčasoma sem sprejela to novo identiteto.

and in many ways I think of myself now as African.

In v mnogočem se sedaj vidim kot Afričanka.

Although I still get quite irritable when Africa is referred to as a country,

Čeprav se še vedno razburim, ko se govori o Afriki kot o državi.

the most recent example being my otherwise wonderful flight

Najbolj svež primer se je zgodil na, drugače čudovitem, poletu

from Lagos two days ago,

iz Lagosa dva dneva nazaj,

in which there was an announcement on the Virgin flight

ko je oglas med Virginovim letom poročal

about the charity work in "India, Africa and other countries."

o dobrodelnem delu v "Indiji, Afriki in drugih državah."

(Laughter)

(smeh)

So, after I had spent some years in the U.S. as an African,

Torej, ko sem preživela nekaj let v ZDA kot Afričanka,

I began to understand my roommate's response to me.

sem začela razumeti reakcijo moje sostanovalke.

If I had not grown up in Nigeria,

Če ne bi bila odrasla v Nigeriji,

and if all I knew about Africa were from popular images,

in če bi bilo vse, kar bi vedela o Afriki iz popularnih predstav,

I too would think that Africa was a place of beautiful landscapes,

potem bi tudi jaz mislila, da je Afrika kraj čudovitih pokrajin,

beautiful animals,

čudovitih živali

and incomprehensible people,

in nerazumljivih ljudi,

fighting senseless wars, dying of poverty and AIDS,

ki bijejo nerazumne vojne, umirajo od revščine in AIDS-a,

unable to speak for themselves

ter se niso sposobni postaviti zase,

and waiting to be saved by a kind, white foreigner.

in čakajo, da jih bo rešil prijazen bel tujec.

I would see Africans in the same way that I,

Afričane bi videla na enak način, kot sem,

as a child, had seen Fide's family.

kot otrok, videla Fidejevo družino.

This single story of Africa ultimately comes, I think, from Western literature.

Ta edina zgodba o Afriki, po mojem mnenju, prihaja iz zahodne literature.

Now, here is a quote from the writing of a London merchant called John Lok,

Tukaj imam citat iz spisov londonskega trgovca, ki se je imenoval John Lok,

who sailed to west Africa in 1561

in je jadral do zahodne Afrike leta 1561

and kept a fascinating account of his voyage.

ter pisal občudujoče zapise o svojem potovanju.

After referring to the black Africans as "beasts who have no houses,"

Po tem, ko je črne Afričane poimenoval "zveri brez hiš",

he writes, "They are also people without heads,

piše, da so "to tudi ljudje brez glav,

having their mouth and eyes in their breasts."

ki imajo usta in oči na svojih prsih."

Now, I've laughed every time I've read this.

Vedno, ko to berem, se smejim.

And one must admire the imagination of John Lok.

In treba je občudovati domišljijo Johna Loka.

But what is important about his writing

Ampak kar je pomembno pri tem zapisu,

is that it represents the beginning

je to, da predstavlja začetek

of a tradition of telling African stories in the West:

tradicije pripovedovanja afriških zgodb na Zahodu.

A tradition of Sub-Saharan Africa as a place of negatives,

Tradicije Podsaharske Afrike kot negativnega kraja,

of difference, of darkness,

razlik, temačnosti,

of people who, in the words of the wonderful poet Rudyard Kipling,

ljudi, ki so, v besedah čudovitega pesnika, Rudyarda Kiplinga,

are "half devil, half child."

"pol hudič, pol otrok."

And so, I began to realize that my American roommate

In tako sem začela dojemati, da je moja ameriška sostanovalka

must have throughout her life

skozi celo življenje

seen and heard different versions of this single story,

videla in slišala različne oblike te ene zgodbe,

as had a professor,

kot je tudi profesor,

who once told me that my novel was not "authentically African."

ki mi je enkrat rekel, da moj roman ni "avtentično afriški."

Now, I was quite willing to contend

Bila sem se pripravljena soočiti s tem,

that there were a number of things wrong with the novel,

da je bilo v romanu mnogo stvari napačnih;

that it had failed in a number of places,

da na več mestih ni bil popoln.

but I had not quite imagined that it had failed

Ampak si nisem predstavljala,

at achieving something called African authenticity.

da roman ni dosegel "afriške avtentičnosti".

In fact, I did not know what African authenticity was.

Pravzaprav nisem vedela, kaj afriška avtentičnost je.

The professor told me that my characters were too much like him,

Profesor mi je povedal, da so moji liki preveč podobni njemu,

an educated and middle-class man.

izobraženemu moškemu srednjega razreda.

My characters drove cars.

Moji liki so vozili avtomobile.

They were not starving.

Niso stradali.

Torej niso bili avtentično afriški.

Therefore they were not authentically African.

But I must quickly add that I too am just as guilty

Ampak moram hitro dodati, da sem tudi jaz prav tako kriva

in the question of the single story.

v smislu edine zgodbe.

A few years ago, I visited Mexico from the U.S.

Nekaj let nazaj sem obiskala Mehiko iz ZDA.

The political climate in the U.S. at the time was tense,

Politična klima v ZDA v tem času je bila napeta.

and there were debates going on about immigration.

In bilo je veliko debat na temo priseljevanja.

And, as often happens in America,

In, kar se velikokrat zgodi v Ameriki,

immigration became synonymous with Mexicans.

priseljevanje je postalo sopomenka za Mehičane.

There were endless stories of Mexicans

Bilo je nešteto zgodb o Mehičanih,

as people who were fleecing the healthcare system,

ki so ljudje, ki skubijo zdravstveni sistem,

sneaking across the border,

na skrivaj prečkajo mejo,

being arrested at the border, that sort of thing.

in ki jih aretirajo na meji, in podobne stvari.

I remember walking around on my first day in Guadalajara,

Spomnim se, kako sem prvi dan v Guadalajari hodila naokrog,

watching the people going to work,

gledala ljudi, ki so šli delat,

rolling up tortillas in the marketplace,

ki so zvijali tortilje na tržnici,

smoking, laughing.

kadili, se smejali.

I remember first feeling slight surprise.

Spomnim se najprej občutka rahlega presenečenja.

And then, I was overwhelmed with shame.

Potem pa sem bila prevzeta s sramom.

I realized that I had been so immersed in the media coverage of Mexicans

Spoznala sem, da sem bila tako posrkana v medijsko poročanje o Mehičanih,

that they had become one thing in my mind,

da so v mojih mislih postali ena stvar,

the abject immigrant.

ubogi priseljenci.

I had bought into the single story of Mexicans

Bila sem prepričana v edino zgodbo o Mehičanih

and I could not have been more ashamed of myself.

in se nisem mogla bolj sramovati.

So that is how to create a single story,

Torej, tako se ustvarja edina zgodba,

show a people as one thing,

prikaže se ljudi kot eno stvar,

as only one thing,

samo eno stvar,

over and over again,

znova in znova isto,

and that is what they become.

in to je, kar postanejo.

It is impossible to talk about the single story

Nemogoče je govoriti o edini zgodbi,

without talking about power.

če ne govorimo o moči.

There is a word, an Igbo word,

Obstaja beseda v igbo jeziku,

that I think about whenever I think about the power structures of the world,

na katero pomislim vedno, ko mislim o sestavi moči v svetu; to je "nkali."

and it is "nkali."

It's a noun that loosely translates to "to be greater than another."

Je samostalnik, ki v površnem prevodu pomeni "biti večji od drugega."

Like our economic and political worlds,

Tako kot sta naš ekonomski in politični svet,

stories too are defined by the principle of nkali:

tako so tudi zgodbe definirane po principu nkalija.

How they are told, who tells them,

Kako so povedane, kdo jih pove,

when they're told, how many stories are told,

kdaj so povedane, koliko zgodb je povedanih,

are really dependent on power.

je odvisno od moči.

Power is the ability not just to tell the story of another person,

Moč je sposobnost, ne samo povedati zgodbo o drugi osebi,

but to make it the definitive story of that person.

ampak jo tudi narediti v edino zgodbo te osebe.

The Palestinian poet Mourid Barghouti writes

Palestinski pesnik Mourid Barghouti piše,

that if you want to dispossess a people,

da če želiš prikrajšati neko ljudstvo,

the simplest way to do it is to tell their story

je najenostavneje tako, da jih v njihovi zgodbi

and to start with, "secondly."

postaviš na drugo, manjvredno mesto.

Start the story with the arrows of the Native Americans,

Začnite zgodbo s puščicami ameriških Indijancev,

and not with the arrival of the British,

in ne s prihodom Britancev,

and you have an entirely different story.

in imate popolnoma drugačno zgodbo.

Start the story with the failure of the African state,

Začnite zgodbo s padcem afriške skupnosti

and not with the colonial creation of the African state,

in ne s kolonialno postavitvijo afriške skupnosti

and you have an entirely different story.

in imate popolnoma drugačno zgodbo.

I recently spoke at a university

Pred kratkim sem govorila na univerzi,

where a student told me that it was such a shame

kjer mi je študent rekel, da je res škoda,

that Nigerian men were physical abusers

da so nigerijski moški nasilneži,

like the father character in my novel.

kot je lik očeta v mojem romanu.

I told him that I had just read a novel called "American Psycho" --

Povedala sem mu, da sem pravkar prebrala roman, ki se imenuje Ameriški psiho -

(Laughter)

(smeh)

-- and that it was such a shame

- in da je res škoda,

that young Americans were serial murderers.

da so mladi Američani serijski morilci.

(Laughter)

(smeh)

(Applause)

(aplavz)

Now, obviously I said this in a fit of mild irritation.

Očitno sem to rekla, ker sem bila rahlo vznemirjena.

(Laughter)

(smeh)

But it would never have occurred to me to think

Nikoli mi na kraj pameti ne bi prišlo,

that just because I had read a novel in which a character was a serial killer

da bi samo zato, ker sem prebrala roman, v katerem je lik serijski morilec,

that he was somehow representative of all Americans.

pomislila, da nekako predstavlja vse Američane.

This is not because I am a better person than that student,

Tega ne govorim, ker bi mislila, da sem boljša oseba od tega študenta,

but because of America's cultural and economic power,

ampak po zaslugi ameriške kulturne in gospodarske moči

I had many stories of America.

sem imela o Ameriki veliko zgodb.

I had read Tyler and Updike and Steinbeck and Gaitskill.

Brala sem Tylerjevo, Updikeja in Steinbecka ter Gaitskillovo.

I did not have a single story of America.

Nisem imela samo ene zgodbe o Ameriki.

When I learned, some years ago,

Ko sem se pred nekaj leti naučila,

that writers were expected to have had really unhappy childhoods

da se od pisateljev pričakuje, da naj bi imeli res nesrečno otroštvo,

to be successful,

če želijo uspeti,

sem začela razmišljati, kako naj si izmislim

I began to think about how I could invent horrible things my parents had done to me.

grozne stvari, ki so mi jih starši počeli.

(Laughter)

(smeh)

But the truth is that I had a very happy childhood,

Ampak resnica je, da sem imela zelo srečno otroštvo,

full of laughter and love, in a very close-knit family.

polno smeha in ljubezni v zelo povezani družini.

But I also had grandfathers who died in refugee camps.

Ampak imela sem tudi stara očeta, ki sta umrla v begunskih taboriščih.

My cousin Polle died because he could not get adequate healthcare.

Moj bratranec Polle je umrl, ker ni mogel dobiti primerne zdravniške oskrbe.

One of my closest friends, Okoloma, died in a plane crash

Eden od mojih najbližjih prijateljev, Okoloma, je umrl v letalski nesreči,

because our fire trucks did not have water.

ker naši gasilski avti niso imeli vode.

I grew up under repressive military governments

Odrasla sem pod represivnimi vojaškimi vladami,

that devalued education,

ki so razvrednotile izobrazbo,

so that sometimes, my parents were not paid their salaries.

tako da včasih moji starši niso dobili plač.

And so, as a child, I saw jam disappear from the breakfast table,

In tako sem kot otrok videla, kako ni bilo več marmelade pri zajtrku,

then margarine disappeared,

potem je izginila še margarina,

then bread became too expensive,

nato je postal kruh predrag,

then milk became rationed.

potem smo varčevali še z mlekom.

And most of all, a kind of normalized political fear

In najpomembneje, neke vrste vsakodnevni politični strah

invaded our lives.

se je zajedel v naša življenja.

All of these stories make me who I am.

Vse te zgodbe me naredijo to, kar sem.

But to insist on only these negative stories

Ampak če bi vztrajala samo na teh negativnih zgodbah,

is to flatten my experience

je, kot da bi sploščila svoje izkušnje,

and to overlook the many other stories that formed me.

in spregledala mnoge druge zgodbe, ki me oblikujejo.

The single story creates stereotypes,

Ena zgodba tvori stereotipe.

and the problem with stereotypes is not that they are untrue,

In težava s stereotipi ni to, da niso resnični,

but that they are incomplete.

ampak da so nepopolni.

They make one story become the only story.

Povzročijo, da ena zgodba postane edina zgodba.

Of course, Africa is a continent full of catastrophes:

Seveda je Afrika kontinent poln katastrof.

There are immense ones, such as the horrific rapes in Congo

Tudi takih neizmernih, kot so grozljiva posilstva v Kongu.

and depressing ones,

In depresivnih, kot je dejstvo,

such as the fact that 5,000 people apply for one job vacancy in Nigeria.

da se 5.000 ljudi prijavi na eno prosto delovno mesto v Nigeriji.

But there are other stories that are not about catastrophe,

Ampak obstajajo tudi druge zgodbe, ki niso povezane s katastrofo.

and it is very important, it is just as important, to talk about them.

Je pa zelo pomembno, prav tako pomembno, govoriti o njih.

I've always felt that it is impossible

Vedno sem čutila, da je nemogoče

to engage properly with a place or a person

se popolnoma povezati s krajem ali človekom,

without engaging with all of the stories of that place and that person.

če se ne povežem z vsemi zgodbami tega kraja in tega človeka.

The consequence of the single story is this:

Posledica edine zgodbe je to:

It robs people of dignity.

ljudem ukrade dostojanstvo.

It makes our recognition of our equal humanity difficult.

Naše dojemanje enotnega človeštva je tako oteženo.

It emphasizes how we are different rather than how we are similar.

Poudari, kako smo si različni, namesto tega, kako smo si podobni.

So what if before my Mexican trip,

Kaj pa, če bi pred mojo potjo v Mehiko

I had followed the immigration debate from both sides,

spremljala debato o priseljencih z obeh strani,

the U.S. and the Mexican?

tako ameriške kot mehiške?

What if my mother had told us that Fide's family was poor

Kaj, če bi nam mama povedala, da je Fidejeva družina revna

and hardworking?

in delavna?

What if we had an African television network

Kaj če bi imeli afriški televizijski program,

that broadcast diverse African stories all over the world?

ki bi predvajal raznovrstne afriške zgodbe povsod po svetu?

What the Nigerian writer Chinua Achebe calls "a balance of stories."

Kar nigerijski pisatelj Chinua Achebe imenuje "ravnotežje zgodb."

What if my roommate knew about my Nigerian publisher,

Kaj, če bi moja sostanovalka vedela o mojem nigerijskem založniku,

Muhtar Bakare,

Mukti Bakarayu,

izrednem človeku, ki je zapustil svojo službo v banki

a remarkable man who left his job in a bank

to follow his dream and start a publishing house?

in sledil svojim sanjam ter ustanovil založniško hišo?

Now, the conventional wisdom was that Nigerians don't read literature.

Splošno mnenje je bilo, da Nigerijci ne berejo literature.

He disagreed.

Ni se strinjal s tem.

He felt that people who could read, would read,

Mislil je, da ljudje, ki znajo brati, bi brali,

if you made literature affordable and available to them.

če bi jim omogočili dostop do ugodne literature.

Shortly after he published my first novel,

Kmalu po tem, ko je izdal moj prvi roman

I went to a TV station in Lagos to do an interview,

sem šla na TV postajo v Lagosu, da bi imela intervju.

and a woman who worked there as a messenger came up to me and said,

Ženska, ki je tam delala kot prenašalka sporočil, je prišla do mene in mi rekla:

"I really liked your novel. I didn't like the ending.

"Res mi je bil všeč vaš roman. Ni pa mi bil všeč konec.

Now, you must write a sequel, and this is what will happen ..."

Zdaj morate napisati nadaljevanje in zgodilo se bo to..."

(Laughter)

(smeh)

And she went on to tell me what to write in the sequel.

In nato je nadaljevala s tem, kaj naj napišem v nadaljevanju.

I was not only charmed, I was very moved.

Nisem bila samo očarana, bila sem ganjena.

Here was a woman, part of the ordinary masses of Nigerians,

Tu je ženska, del navadne ogromne nigerijske družbe,

who were not supposed to be readers.

ki naj ne bi brala.

She had not only read the book,

Ne samo, da je prebrala knjigo,

but she had taken ownership of it

celo prevzela je nadzor nad njo

and felt justified in telling me what to write in the sequel.

in se čutila upravičeno, da mi pove, kaj naj napišem v nadaljevanju.

Now, what if my roommate knew about my friend Funmi Iyanda,

Kaj, če bi moja sostanovalka vedela o moji prijateljici Fumi Onda,

a fearless woman who hosts a TV show in Lagos,

neustrašni ženski, ki je voditeljica TV oddaje v Lagosu,

and is determined to tell the stories that we prefer to forget?

in je odločena, da pove zgodbe, ki jih raje pozabimo?

What if my roommate knew about the heart procedure

Kaj, če bi moja sostanovalka vedela za operacijo srca,

that was performed in the Lagos hospital last week?

ki so jo izvedli v bolnišnici v Lagosu prejšnji teden?

What if my roommate knew about contemporary Nigerian music,

Kaj, če bi vedela o moderni nigerijski glasbi?

talented people singing in English and Pidgin,

O talentiranih ljudeh, ki pojejo v angleščini in pidginu,

and Igbo and Yoruba and Ijo,

igbo, joruba, ijo jezikih,

mixing influences from Jay-Z to Fela

mešajo vplive od Jay-Zja do Fele,

to Bob Marley to their grandfathers.

do Boba Marleyja in do njihovih starih očetov.

What if my roommate knew about the female lawyer

Kaj, če bi moja sostanovalka vedela o odvetnici,

who recently went to court in Nigeria to challenge a ridiculous law

ki je nedavno šla na sodišče v Nigeriji, da bi se soočila z nesmiselnim zakonom,

that required women to get their husband's consent

ki določa, da morajo ženske dobiti moževo odobritev,

before renewing their passports?

preden si lahko podaljšajo potni list?

What if my roommate knew about Nollywood,

Kaj, če bi vedela o Nollywoodu,

full of innovative people making films despite great technical odds,

polnem inovativnih ljudi, ki delajo filme kljub velikim tehničnim stroškom?

films so popular

Filme tako popularne,

that they really are the best example of Nigerians consuming what they produce?

da so res najboljši primer tega, kako Nigerijci zaužijejo tisto, kar ustvarijo.

What if my roommate knew about my wonderfully ambitious hair braider,

Kaj, če bi moja sostanovalka vedela o moji čudovito ambiciozni pletilki las,

who has just started her own business selling hair extensions?

ki je ravno začela z lastnim poslom prodaje lasnih podaljškov?

Or about the millions of other Nigerians who start businesses and sometimes fail,

Ali o milijonih drugih Nigerijcev, ki začnejo svoje posle in včasih propadejo,

but continue to nurse ambition?

vendar nadaljujejo z vzgajanjem ambicije?

Every time I am home I am confronted

Kadarkoli sem doma, sem soočena

with the usual sources of irritation for most Nigerians:

z običajnimi izvori razdražljivosti večine Nigerijcev:

our failed infrastructure, our failed government,

našo propadlo infrastrukturo, našo propadlo vlado.

but also by the incredible resilience

Ampak se soočim tudi z neverjetno odpornostjo ljudi,

of people who thrive despite the government,

ki uspevajo kljub vladi

in ne zaradi nje.

rather than because of it.

I teach writing workshops in Lagos every summer,

Vsako poletje vodim tudi delavnice pisanja v Lagosu.

and it is amazing to me how many people apply,

Čudovito je, koliko ljudi se prijavi,

how many people are eager to write,

koliko ljudi je željnih pisati,

to tell stories.

povedati zgodbe.

My Nigerian publisher and I have just started a non-profit

Skupaj s svojim nigerijskim založnikom sva začela z neprofitnim,

called Farafina Trust,

t. i. Farafina skladom.

and we have big dreams of building libraries

Imava velike sanje o gradnji knjižnic

and refurbishing libraries that already exist

in prenovitvi tistih, ki že obstajajo,

and providing books for state schools

ter zagotovitvi knjig državnim šolam,

that don't have anything in their libraries,

ki nimajo ničesar v svojih knjižnicah,

and also of organizing lots and lots of workshops,

pa tudi o organizaciji velikega števila delavnic

in reading and writing,

tako branja kot tudi pisanja,

for all the people who are eager to tell our many stories.

za vse, ki si želijo povedati mnogo zgodb.

Stories matter.

Zgodbe so pomembne.

Many stories matter.

Pomembno je imeti veliko zgodb.

Stories have been used to dispossess and to malign,

Zgodbe so uporabljene za razvrednotenje in zavajanje.

but stories can also be used to empower and to humanize.

Ampak zgodbe se uporabljajo tudi za krepitev in očlovečenje.

Stories can break the dignity of a people,

Zgodbe lahko zlomijo človeško dostojanstvo.

but stories can also repair that broken dignity.

Ampak zgodbe ga lahko tudi popravijo.

The American writer Alice Walker wrote this

Ameriška pisateljica Alice Walker je napisala to

about her Southern relatives who had moved to the North.

o svojih sorodnikih z juga, ki so se preselili na sever.

She introduced them to a book about

Predstavila jim je knjigo

the Southern life that they had left behind.

o življenju na jugu, ki so ga pustili za sabo.

"They sat around, reading the book themselves,

"Sedeli so okoli, sami brali knjigo,

listening to me read the book, and a kind of paradise was regained."

poslušali mene, kako sem jim jo brala; in vrnil se je neke vrste raj."

I would like to end with this thought:

Rada bi končala s to mislijo:

That when we reject the single story,

Ko zavrnemo edino zgodbo,

when we realize that there is never a single story

ko spoznamo, da ni nikoli samo ene zgodbe

about any place,

kateregakoli kraja,

we regain a kind of paradise.

s tem pridobimo neke vrste raj.

Thank you.

Hvala.

(Applause)

(aplavz)