Jacqueline Woodson: What reading slowly taught me about writing | TED

Prevodilac: Stefan Vesić Lektor: Milenka Okuka

A long time ago, there lived a Giant,

Bio jednom jedan džin,

a Selfish Giant, whose stunning garden was the most beautiful in all the land.

sebični džin, čiji je zadivljujući vrt bio najlepši u celoj zemlji.

Jedne noći, ovaj džin je došao kući,

One evening, this Giant came home

and found all these children playing in his garden,

zatekao gomilu dece kako se igraju u njegovom vrtu

and he became enraged.

i pobesneo.

"My own garden is my own garden!"

"Moj vrt je samo moj i ničiji više!"

the Giant said.

reče džin.

And he built this high wall around it.

Potom je sagradio jedan visoki zid oko njega.

The author Oscar Wilde wrote the story of "The Selfish Giant" in 1888.

Pisac Oskar Vajld napisao je priču "Sebični džin" 1888. godine.

Almost a hundred years later, that Giant moved into my Brooklyn childhood

Skoro sto godina kasnije, taj džin je došao u moje detinjstvo u Bruklinu

and never left.

i nikada nije otišao.

I was raised in a religious family,

Odrasla sam u religioznoj porodici,

and I grew up reading both the Bible and the Quran.

čitajući i Bibliju i Kuran.

The hours of reading, both religious and recreational,

Mnogo više sam čitala religiozne knjige, ali sam i čitala iz zabave,

far outnumbered the hours of television-watching.

nego što sam gledala televiziju.

Now, on any given day, you could find my siblings and I

Svakog dana mogli ste pronaći moju braću, sestre i mene

curled up in some part of our apartment reading,

sklupčane u nekom delu stana kako čitamo.

sometimes unhappily,

Nekada nam se to ne bi svidelo

because on summer days in New York City, the fire hydrant blasted,

zato što bi letnjih dana u Njujorku hidrant pukao

and to our immense jealousy, we could hear our friends down there

i bili bismo izuzetno ljubomorni kada bismo čuli svoje prijatelje

kako se igraju dole u mlazovima vode.

playing in the gushing water,

their absolute joy making its way up through our open windows.

Njihova neopisiva sreća bi pronašla svoj put do naših otvorenih prozora.

But I learned that the deeper I went into my books,

Međutim, shvatila sam da što bih se više udubljivala u svoje knjige,

the more time I took with each sentence,

što bih sporije čitala svaku rečenicu,

the less I heard the noise of the outside world.

manje bih čula buku spoljašnjeg sveta.

And so, unlike my siblings, who were racing through books,

Za razliku od svoje braće i sestara koji su pretrčavali kroz knjige,

I read slowly --

ja sam čitala polako -

very, very slowly.

veoma, veoma polako.

I was that child with her finger running beneath the words,

Ja sam bila to dete koje je prelazilo prstom ispod reči,

until I was untaught to do this; told big kids don't use their fingers.

dok nisam bila odučena od toga

jer mi je rečeno da velika deca ne koriste prste.

In third grade, we were made to sit with our hands folded on our desk,

U trećem razredu morali smo da sedimo sa rukama sklopljenim na stolu,

unclasping them only to turn the pages, then returning them to that position.

odvajajući ih samo da okrenemo stranu i odmah bi ih vraćali u prvobitni položaj.

Our teacher wasn't being cruel.

Učiteljica nije bila stroga.

It was the 1970s,

Bile su to sedamdesete

and her goal was to get us reading not just on grade level

i njen cilj je bio da nas nauči da čitamo, ne samo na nivou našeg uzrasta

but far above it.

već na mnogo višem.

And we were always being pushed to read faster.

Uvek su nas terali da čitamo brže,

But in the quiet of my apartment, outside of my teacher's gaze,

ali u tišini svog stana, daleko od pogleda svoje učiteljice,

I let my finger run beneath those words.

ja sam prevlačila prstom ispod reči.

And that Selfish Giant again told me his story,

Taj sebični džin mi je ponovo ispričao svoj priču,

how he had felt betrayed by the kids sneaking into his garden,

kako se osećao prevarenim kada su se deca ušunjala u njegov vrt,

how he had built this high wall,

kako je sagradio taj visoki zid

and it did keep the children out,

koji deca nisu mogla da pređu,

but a grey winter fell over his garden

ali je zima došla u njegov vrt

and just stayed and stayed.

i nikada više nije otišla.

With each rereading, I learned something new

Svakim novim čitanjem saznala sam nešto novo

about the hard stones of the roads that the kids were forced to play on

o tvrdom kamenju sa puteva na kojima su deca bila primorana da se igraju

when they got expelled from the garden,

kada su bila izbačena iz vrta,

about the gentleness of a small boy that appeared one day,

o nežnosti malog dečaka koji se pojavio jednog dana,

and even about the Giant himself.

pa čak i o samom džinu.

Maybe his words weren't rageful after all.

Možda on ipak nije bio besan.

Maybe they were a plea for empathy,

Možda je samo želeo da saoseća sa nekim,

for understanding.

da ga neko razume.

"My own garden is my own garden."

"Moj vrt je samo moj i ničiji više."

Years later, I would learn of a writer named John Gardner

Mnogo godina kasnije saznala sam za pisca Džona Gardnera

who referred to this as the "fictive dream,"

koji je to nazivao "fantastičnim snom"

or the "dream of fiction,"

ili "snom o fantastici",

and I would realize that this was where I was inside that book,

i shvatila da sam ja bila u toj knjizi,

spending time with the characters and the world that the author had created

provodeći vreme sa likovima u svetu koji je pisac stvorio

and invited me into.

i u koji me je pozvao.

As a child, I knew that stories were meant to be savored,

Kao dete sam znala da u pričama treba uživati,

that stories wanted to be slow,

da priče žele da se polako čitaju

and that some author had spent months, maybe years, writing them.

i da je neki pisac proveo mesece, možda i godine pišući ih,

And my job as the reader --

a moj posao čitaoca,

especially as the reader who wanted to one day become a writer --

posebno čitaoca koji je želeo da jednog dana postane pisac,

was to respect that narrative.

je da poštujem tu priču.

Long before there was cable or the internet or even the telephone,

Mnogo pre nego što je postojala kablovska, internet, pa čak i telefoni,

there were people sharing ideas and information and memory through story.

postojali su ljudi koji su delili ideje, informacije i sećanja kroz priču.

It's one of our earliest forms of connective technology.

To je jedan od najranijih oblika tehnologije koja nas povezuje.

It was the story of something better down the Nile

Priča da ima nečeg boljeg niz Nil bila je ta

that sent the Egyptians moving along it,

koja je poslala Egipćane nizvodno,

the story of a better way to preserve the dead

priča da postoji bolji način da se očuvaju tela mrtvih

that brought King Tut's remains into the 21st century.

razlog je zbog kojeg su Tutankamonovi ostaci preživeli do 21. veka.

And more than two million years ago,

Pre više od dva miliona godina,

when the first humans began making tools from stone,

kada su prvi ljudi počeli da prave oruđe od kamena,

someone must have said, "What if?"

neko mora da je pitao: "Šta ako?"

And someone else remembered the story.

i neko drugi se setio te priče.

And whether they told it through words or gestures or drawings,

Bez obzira na to da li su je prenosili putem reči, pokreta, ili crteža,

it was passed down; remembered:

priča se prenosila, pamtila se:

hit a hammer and hear its story.

udari čekićem i saslušaj njegovu priču.

The world is getting noisier.

Svet postaje bučniji.

We've gone from boomboxes

Sa kasetofona smo prešli

to Walkmen to portable CD players

na vokmene, pa na prenosive CD plejere,

to iPods

na ajpode

to any song we want, whenever we want it.

i došli do toga da možemo slušati bilo koju pesmu kad god to želimo.

We've gone from the four television channels of my childhood

Od četiri televizijska kanala u mom detinjstvu,

to the seeming infinity of cable and streaming.

došli smo do, čini se, beskonačnog broja kanala na kablovskoj i na internetu.

As technology moves us faster and faster through time and space,

Kako nas tehnologija sve brže i brže vodi kroz vreme i prostor,

it seems to feel like story is getting pushed out of the way,

čini se da se priča gubi iz vida.

I mean, literally pushed out of the narrative.

Mislim, bukvalno da se zanemaruje.

But even as our engagement with stories change,

Čak i kada se naš stav prema pričama menja,

or the trappings around it morph from book to audio to Instagram to Snapchat,

ili se njena forma menja od knjige u audio formate, Instagram ili Snepčet

we must remember our finger beneath the words.

moramo se setiti da prevlačimo prstom ispod reči.

Remember that story, regardless of the format,

Pamćenje tih priča, bez obzira na to u kom su obliku

has always taken us to places we never thought we'd go,

nas je uvek vodilo na mesta na koja smo mislili da nikada nećemo ići,

introduced us to people we never thought we'd meet

upoznalo nas sa ljudima koje nikada nismo mislili da ćemo upoznati

and shown us worlds that we might have missed.

i pokazalo nam svetove koje smo možda propustili.

So as technology keeps moving faster and faster,

S obzirom na to da tehnologija napreduje sve brže i brže,

I am good with something slower.

meni prija nešto sporije.

My finger beneath the words has led me to a life of writing books

Prevlačenje prstom ispod reči dovelo me je do života pisanja knjiga

for people of all ages,

za ljude svih uzrasta,

books meant to be read slowly,

knjige pisane da bi se čitale polako,

to be savored.

da se u njima uživa.

My love for looking deeply and closely at the world,

Moja ljubav prema dubljem i bližem posmatranju sveta,

for putting my whole self into it, and by doing so,

prema potpunom prepuštanju sebe njemu omogućila mi je

seeing the many, many possibilities of a narrative,

da uvidim raznorazne pripovedne mogućnosti

turned out to be a gift,

i pokazala se kao dar,

because taking my sweet time

zato što me je sporo čitanje

taught me everything I needed to know about writing.

naučilo svemu što je trebalo da znam o pisanju.

And writing taught me everything I needed to know about creating worlds

Pisanje me je naučilo svemu što je trebalo da znam o stvaranju svetova

where people could be seen and heard,

gde bi ljudi mogli da budu viđeni i saslušani,

where their experiences could be legitimized,

gde bi njihova iskustva mogla da se pretvore u stvarnost

and where my story, read or heard by another person,

i gde bi moja priča, koju bi neko pročitao ili čuo,

inspired something in them that became a connection between us,

probudila nešto u njima što bi nas povezalo,

a conversation.

postalo razgovor.

And isn't that what this is all about --

Nije li u tome poenta -

finding a way, at the end of the day, to not feel alone in this world,

da nađemo način da se na kraju dana ne osećamo kao da smo sami na ovom svetu,

and a way to feel like we've changed it before we leave?

da se osećamo kao da smo ga promenili pre nego što sa njega odemo?

Stone to hammer, man to mummy,

Kamen u čekić, čovek u mumiju,

idea to story -- and all of it, remembered.

ideja u priču i sve je to zapamćeno.

Sometimes we read to understand the future.

Nekada čitamo da bismo razumeli budućnost.

Sometimes we read to understand the past.

Nekada čitamo da bismo razumeli prošlost.

We read to get lost, to forget the hard times we're living in,

Čitamo da bismo se izgubili, da zaboravimo na teška vremena u kojima živimo

and we read to remember those who came before us,

i čitamo da bismo se setili onih koji su bili tu pre nas,

who lived through something harder.

koji su preživeli nešto gore.

I write for those same reasons.

Ja pišem iz tih istih razloga.

Before coming to Brooklyn, my family lived in Greenville, South Carolina,

Pre nego što smo došli u Bruklin,

moja porodica je živela u Grinvilu, Južnoj Karolini,

in a segregated neighborhood called Nicholtown.

u rasno podeljenom kraju koji se zvao Nikoltaun.

All of us there were the descendants of a people

Svi u tom naselju bili smo potomci ljudi

who had not been allowed to learn to read or write.

kojima nije bilo dozvoljeno da uče da čitaju i pišu.

Imagine that:

Zamislite to:

the danger of understanding how letters form words,

opasnost razumevanja kako slova prave reči,

the danger of words themselves,

opasnost od samih reči,

the danger of a literate people and their stories.

opasnost od pismenih ljudi i njihovih priča.

But against this backdrop of being threatened with death

Uprkos tome što su nam pretili smrću,

for holding onto a narrative,

ako bismo se držali jedne priče,

our stories didn't die,

naše priče nisu umrle,

because there is yet another story beneath that one.

zato što je postojala još jedna priča ispod te.

And this is how it has always worked.

Tako su stvari uvek funkcionisale.

For as long as we've been communicating,

Od kada komuniciramo,

there's been the layering to the narrative,

postojali su slojevi u pričama,

the stories beneath the stories and the ones beneath those.

priče ispod priča i još priča ispod tih.

This is how story has and will continue to survive.

Ovako je priča preživljavala i ovako će nastaviti da preživljava.

As I began to connect the dots that connected the way I learned to write

Kada sam počela da povezujem tačkice

koje povezuju način na koji sam naučila da pišem

and the way I learned to read

sa načinom na koji sam naučila da čitam

to an almost silenced people,

sa gotovo ućutkanim ljudima,

I realized that my story was bigger and older and deeper

shvatila sam da je moja priča veća, starija i dublja

than I would ever be.

nego što ću ja ikada biti

And because of that, it will continue.

i zbog toga će se ona nastaviti.

Among these almost-silenced people

Među tim skoro ućutkanim ljudima

there were the ones who never learned to read.

bilo je onih koji nikada nisu naučili da čitaju.

Their descendants, now generations out of enslavement,

Njihovi potomci, generacije oslobođene ropstva,

if well-off enough,

ako su bili dovoljno imućni,

had gone on to college, grad school, beyond.

išli su na fakultete, specijalizacije i dalje od toga.

Some, like my grandmother and my siblings, seemed to be born reading,

Neki su se, poput moje bake i moje braće i sestara,

čini se rodili sa knjigom u rukama,

as though history stepped out of their way.

kao da istorija za njih nije ni postojala.

Some, like my mother, hitched onto the Great Migration wagon --

Neki su, poput moje majke, skočili na karavan Velike migracije -

which was not actually a wagon --

ne mislim na pravi karavan -

and kissed the South goodbye.

i pozdravili se sa Jugom.

But here is the story within that story:

Međutim, evo priče ispod te priče:

those who left and those who stayed

oni koji su otišli i oni koji su ostali

carried with them the history of a narrative,

nosili su sa sobom istoriju priče,

knew deeply that writing it down wasn't the only way they could hold on to it,

znajući duboko u sebi da napisati priču

nije bio jedini način na koji je mogu sačuvati,

knew they could sit on their porches or their stoops at the end of a long day

znajući da su mogli da sednu na svoje terase

ili stepenice nakon dugog dana

and spin a slow tale for their children.

i počnu laganu priču svojoj deci.

They knew they could sing their stories through the thick heat of picking cotton

Znali su da mogu da pevaju svoje priče na vrućini dok beru pamuk,

and harvesting tobacco,

ili sakupljaju duvan.

knew they could preach their stories and sew them into quilts,

Znali su da mogu da propovedaju svoje priče i ušiju ih u tkanine,

turn the most painful ones into something laughable,

pretvore najbolnije priče u nešto smešno

and through that laughter, exhale the history a country

i da kroz taj smeh izbace istoriju zemlje

that tried again and again and again

koja je iznova i iznova pokušavala

to steal their bodies,

da ukrade njihova tela,

their spirit

njihov duh

and their story.

i njihovu priču.

So as a child, I learned to imagine an invisible finger

Tako sam kao dete naučila da zamišljam nevidljivi prst

taking me from word to word,

koji me je vodio od reči do reči.

from sentence to sentence,

od rečenice do rečenice,

from ignorance to understanding.

od neznanja do shvatanja.

So as technology continues to speed ahead,

Kako tehnologija nastavlja da se razvija brzo,

I continue to read slowly,

ja nastavljam da čitam polako,

knowing that I am respecting the author's work

znajući da poštujem rad pisca

and the story's lasting power.

i trajnu moć priče.

And I read slowly to drown out the noise

Čitam polako kako bih smanjila buku

and remember those who came before me,

i setila se onih koji su bili tu pre mene,

who were probably the first people who finally learned to control fire

verovatno prve ljude koji su konačno naučili da upravljaju vatrom

and circled their new power

i zagospodarili svojom novom moći

of flame and light and heat.

nad plamenom, svetlošću i vrelinom.

And I read slowly to remember the Selfish Giant,

Čitam polako da bih se setila sebičnog džina,

how he finally tore that wall down

kako je najzad srušio taj zid

and let the children run free through his garden.

i pustio decu da se slobodno igraju u njegovom vrtu.

And I read slowly to pay homage to my ancestors,

Čitam polako da bih odala počast svojim precima,

who were not allowed to read at all.

kojima uopšte nije bilo dozvoljeno da čitaju.

They, too, must have circled fires,

I oni mora da su gospodarili vatrama,

speaking softly of their dreams,

bojažljivo pričajući o svojim snovima,

their hopes, their futures.

svojim nadama, svojim budućnostima.

Each time we read, write or tell a story,

Svaki put kada čitamo, pišemo ili pričamo priču,

we step inside their circle,

mi ulazimo u njihov krug

and it remains unbroken.

i on ostaje neprekinut,

And the power of story lives on.

a moć priče živi dalje.

Thank you.

Hvala.

(Applause)

(Aplauz)