硬幣的另一面

I was doing a big clean-up recently and my kids were helping. As he 1）rummaged through boxes and bags， one of my sons came across a knotted handkerchief with an old dark brown coin nestled inside.“Mum， can I have this？ Can I play with this in my cash register？” he asked. I took one look and was immediately transported to another time. “You can play with all your coins， but not this one，” I said slowly.“This one’s special. I will never again see the woman who gave this to me.” I fingered the coin gently. “This coin is worth much more than its monetary value.”

My son looked at me strangely and I explained. In 1991， I had spent five months in a 2）bleak African country， 3）Niger， 4）ravaged by sandstorms and blistering heat. There were many things I found difficult about this place—the climate and beggars were my biggest and most constant 5）gripes. Street 6）urchins would continually thrust their hands into your face， shouting “Cadeau！ Cadeau！” （gift） in French， the former colonial tongue. After I’d finished my nursing 7）stint there， a friend and I headed for neighbouring 8）Burkina Faso to work at a health clinic. “It’s much greener in Burkina. Even the Coke tastes better，” the locals assured us.

Arriving by taxi at our destination in Burkina， we began to unload. I had a large backpack and a smaller daypack. With my daypack wedged between my legs， I reached for my larger piece of luggage when， out of the darkness， a motorbike with two men approached slowly. Without warning， one of the men grabbed my daypack as the motorbike swept close by. Within seconds， the pair were out of sight， swallowed up by the night.

The bag had my passport， money， traveller cheques， camera， an airline ticket and other 9）paraphernalia quite precious to me. I was in deep trouble. And the nearest Australian 10）consulate was in 11）Ethiopia. In the weeks that followed， I 12）zealously guarded the rest of my valuables and regarded all locals with suspicion. I endured interrogations by the local authorities with thinly veiled frustration. All I wanted was to leave this hellhole. Then， walking through Burkina’s streets one day， I was 13）accosted by a 14）wiry old woman who thrust her hand in my face. “Cadeau！ Cadeau！” she cried. I’d had enough. I was sick and tired of the country： its poverty and corruption， its thieves， its inefficiency， the heat， the dust and its time-wasting officials. I told her firmly in French， “I have no ‘cadeau’. I have no money. A thief stole all my money two weeks ago and now I can’t get out of your country. I cannot give you anything.”The beggar woman listened attentively and pondered my words. Then her face 15）crumpled into a toothless grin as she reached into the folds of her dress.

“Then I will give you a cadeau，” she announced. Kindly， she placed an old， dark brown coin in my palm. I looked at it in shock. It was a 16）minuscule amount of money—but for this woman， the coin represented a meal. In that moment， I felt the shame of 17）affluence and the humility of charity. She had given me a gift disproportionate to anything that I had ever donated. In the midst of her poverty， she was able to give me something priceless. I saw then the unexpected beauty of the people of Burkina Faso—and appreciated profoundly the quiet dignity of the poor. Humbled by the woman’s unconditional gift， I hope never to part with the coin she gave me. With one small token， she turned my perceptions upside down.

最近，我在做家庭大掃除，我的孩子們在幫忙。我其中一個兒子翻箱倒柜時，發現了一條打著結的手帕，里面裝著一個深棕色的舊硬幣。“媽媽，這個可以給我嗎？我可以用這個玩收銀機嗎？”他問道。我看了一眼，心神旋即飄到另一個時空。“你可以玩你所有的硬幣，但這個不行，”我慢慢地說道。“這枚硬幣很特別。我不會再看到那個送我硬幣的女人。” 我輕觸這枚硬幣。“這硬幣的價值遠遠超過它的面值。”

我兒子奇怪地看著我，我向他解釋這是怎么一回事。1991年，我在尼日爾度過了五個月，尼日爾是個荒涼的非洲國家，飽受沙塵暴與酷熱的侵襲。這個地方的很多東西我都感覺難以適應——氣候和乞丐是最讓我感到困擾的。街上的小孩會不停地把手伸到你的臉上，喊著“卡豆！卡豆！”“卡豆”在法語里是 “禮物”的意思，法語是尼日爾前殖民者的語言。我完成了在尼日爾的護理工作后，便和一個朋友前往附近的布基納法索的一個保健所工作。“布基納的綠化要好多了，就連這里的可樂都更好喝，”當地人向我們保證。

出租車把我們載到布基納的目的地后，我們開始搬卸行李。我有一個大背包和一個小背包。我把小背包夾在雙腿中間，伸手搬我的大件行李箱，這時，在黑暗中，兩個男人騎著一臺摩托車向我慢慢駛進。沒有任何預警地，當摩托車從我身邊疾駛而過時，其中一個男人搶走了我的小背包。一眨眼，那兩個男人便離開了我的視線，消失在夜色當中。

我的護照、錢、旅行支票、照相機、機票和其他一些對我來說很重要的隨身物品都放在那個包里面。……