"LeGuin-Solitude" - читать интересную книгу автора (Le Guin Ursula K)

insofar as she could see any of it, and had several conversations with adult
women and many with children; but she found that she was never asked into
another woman's house, nor expected to help or ask for help in any work.
Conversation concerning normal activities was unwelcome to the other women; the
children, her only informants, called her Aunt Crazy-Jabber. Her aberrant
behavior caused increasing distrust and dislike among the women, and they began
to keep their children away from her. She left. "There's no way," she told my
mother, "for an adult to learn anything. They don't ask questions, they don't
answer questions. Whatever they learn, they learn when they're children."

Aha! said my mother to herself, looking at Borny and me. And she requested a
family transfer to Eleven. Sort with Observer status. The Stabiles interviewed
her extensively by ansible, and talked with Borny and even with me-- I don't
remember it, but she told me I told the Stabiles all about my new stockings--and
agreed to her request. The ship was to stay in close orbit, with the previous
Observers in the crew, and she was to keep radio contact with it, daily if
possible.

I have a dim memory of the tree-city, and of playing with what must have been a
kitten or a ghole-kit on the ship; but my first clear memories are of our house
in the auntring. It is half underground, half aboveground, with wattle-and-daub
walls. Mother and I are standing outside it in the warm sunshine. Between us is
a big mudpuddle, into which Borny pours water from a basket; then he runs off to
the creek to get more water. I muddle the mud with my hands, deliciously, till
it is thick and smooth. I pick up a big double handful and slap it onto the
walls where the sticks show through. Mother says, "That's good! That's right!"
in our new language, and I realize that this is work, and I am doing it. I am
repairing the house. I am making it right, doing it right. I am a competent
person.

I have never doubted that, so long as I lived there.

We are inside the house at night, and Borny is talking to the ship on the radio,
because he misses talking the old language, and anyway he is supposed to tell
them stuff. Mother is making a basket and sweating at the split reeds. I am
singing a song to drown out Borny so nobody in the auntring hears him talking
funny, and anyway I like singing. I learned this song this afternoon in Hyuru's
house. I play every day with Hyuru. "Be aware, listen, listen, be aware," I
sing. When Mother stops swearing she listens, and then she turns on the
recorder. There is a little fire still left from cooking dinner, which was
lovely pigi root, I never get tired of pigi. It is dark and warm and smells of
pigi and of burning duhur, which is a strong, sacred smell to drive out magic
and bad feelings, and as I sing "Listen, be aware," I get sleepier and sleepier
and lean against Mother, who is dark and warm and smells like Mother, strong and
sacred, full of good feelings.

Our daily life in the auntring was repetitive. On the ship, later, I learned
that people who live in artificially complicated situations call such a life
"simple." I never knew anybody, anywhere I have been, who found life simple. I
think a life or a time looks simple when you leave out the details, the way a