钟翔《萨尔塔情思·温暖的毛毡》
📝 作者简介 · Author Bio
钟翔:东乡族，甘肃康乐县人，中国作家协会会员、研究馆员、甘肃省“四个一批”人才、甘肃省陇原人才卡B类人才，第十届全国少数民族文学“骏马奖”得主。着有诗集《心旅》《暗处的光点》、散文集《乡村里的路》《故土情》《撒尔塔情思——临夏东乡族人的黑夜白天》、小说集《敲人的雨声、长篇小说《山魂》，编着《阳光照亮的黄土地》《魅力临夏》等，创作电影剧本《撒尔塔劲风》等，作品入选各类文学选本，荣获《民族文学》《小说选刊》《中国作家》等文学奖。长篇小说《山魂》入选中国作家协会2020年度少数民族文学重点作品扶持名单 。散文集《乡村里的路》荣获第五届甘肃黄河文学奖、第十届全国少数民族文学创作“骏马奖”。
Zhong Xiang, a native Dongxiang from Kangle County, Gansu Province, is a member of the Chinese Writers Association, a research librarian, and a talent acknowledged by Gansu Province's "Four Groups of Talents" program. He holds a B-class talent card from Longyuan Talent Card in Gansu Province and has received the 10th National Minority Literature "Junma Award." His literary contributions include poetry collections such as "Journey of the Heart" and "The Light in the Dark," prose collections like "The Road in the Countryside," "Native Land Nostalgia," and "Salta Nostalgia: The Day and Night of the Dongxiang People in Linxia," a collection of short stories titled "The Sound of Knocking Rain," a novel named "Mountain Soul," and compilations including "The Yellow Land Illuminated by Sunlight" a
中文原文 Chinese Source Text
西北跟南方相比，地理位置不同，气候差异很大，温度也不一样，冬天特别寒冷。就是到了早春或者初秋，天气变得冷冷的，人们家里的炕上，都要铺上厚厚的毛毡，炕洞里填进晒干的柴草，烧得暖暖和和的，才能舒适的过夜。绵软暖和的毛毡，在当地人们的生活中，显得尤为重要，不可缺少。
毛毡大多是用羊毛做的。我们老家那里，家家户户基本上养羊，三五只七八只的，数量不等。养羊的好处很多，产了羔能够赚钱，长大了可以食用，剪了毛能够擀毡，还会吃掉剩下的残汤馍渣，不至于被白白浪费。
记得幼小时，来村里擀毡的匠人，都是外地的陌生人，叽里呱啦说着东乡话，意思大多听不懂，不知究竟在说啥。我家所在的村庄，居住的都是回族人，一律说着汉语，学校里也上汉语课，我从小受汉语教育。我家来了客人，尤其是舅舅、舅母或他们家的，就跟我母亲说东乡语，脸上带着微笑，你一言我一，语很是尽兴，不知是啥意思。我在一旁静静听着，啥意思也不明白，似是个局外人。听的时间一长，就多多少少能知道一些，如器物的名称，常用的词语等。
我们东乡族里，能工巧匠很多，有碗匠、铁匠、铜匠、木匠、毡匠等，可说是不计其数。到了八九月份，庄稼收割完了，人们闲了下来，匠人们也闲了下来。投缘和关系好的，三四个人搭伙，背上巨大的弯弓、柳条、竹帘等用具，去临近的村子，给人们擀毡。
据史料记载，擀毡的工艺最早是从蒙古族游牧部落传入的，已有上千年历史。到了宋末及元朝时期，西北地区杂居的蒙、回、汉、东乡、撒拉、保安等少数民族，常年互有来往，和睦友好相处。蒙古人制作的毛毡，洁净美观，绵软厚实，经久耐用，受到其他民族的普遍欢迎，积极主动学习，掌握擀毡技术，为自己所用。这样，蒙古人传统的擀毡技艺，一传十十传百，迅速得到四处传播，广泛用于人们的日常生活，带来了极大的方便。后来，这一技术不断发展，出现了毡匠这一职业。
擀毡的用料多是羊毛，也有用牛毛的。牛毛擀出的毛毡不太绵软，还容易掉落，大多不予采用。有些人剪了羊毛，胡乱塞在檐下，或裂开的墙缝，时间稍微一长，就渗进了雨水，湿漉漉的，拧成了疙瘩，不容易撕开。毡匠们拿着这些羊毛，在院子的平地或门扇上，层层铺开，暴晒一番，捡去里面的羊粪蛋、杂草、布片等杂物。
剪下的羊毛虽说已经洗了，看起来也很白净，可撕开来一看，里面还是脏兮兮的，极为油腻。在铺开的羊毛里，掺进细细的干土，抡着柳条抽打，经过土油掺和，相互揉挤，油腻慢慢除净了。
接下来，在两间大的房里，撑起木头架子，铺上炕大的平板，开始弹毛。年轻的毡匠穿着护衣，头戴护帽，脸捂口罩，手握巨大的弯弓，嘭嚓嚓，嘭嚓嚓地弹着，声音忽高忽低，传得很远。颤动的弓弦上，毛团不断地跳跃，抖落散开，夹带的沉渣、灰尘和沙粒，纷纷掉落下来，使毛异常蓬松，白雪一般。
思想活泛的家里，洗毡时也哼唱悠长的擀毡调，声音低缓苍凉，忧郁伤感，令人动心，内容大多反映了生活的艰难，男女之间的爱情，对往后日子的期盼。毡匠们边擀边唱，间或喝一杯茶水，说几句调皮的笑话，使疲乏劳累的身心，变得轻松起来。
有些脑子灵活，会编曲调的毡匠，把擀毡的过程，必经的工序，编成好听的歌词，即兴哼唱，对仗押韵，朗朗上口。一曲罢了，毡匠们开怀大笑，身边帮忙的家人，也禁不住笑起来，很是热闹。家境好些的，听了这些忧伤的曲调，觉得毡匠们出门不易，生存艰难，擀毡很累，心肠一软，就增加了工钱。
擀好了毛毡，就该晒了。大树间拴着的铁丝，墙根支起的木杆，平铺的宽大门扇，都是晒毡的地方。阳光朗照时，大地上一片明丽，晒着的毛毡白白净净，更为鲜亮。用手轻轻摸摸，手上毛茸茸的，很是暖和。调皮捣蛋的小孩，把脸也贴上去，感受一下。毡上的光热，透过人的肌肤，瞬间渗了进去，温温暖暖的，很是开心。
这家擀完了毛毡，毡匠们拿了工钱，背上用具，去另一家擀毡。毡匠们到了村子，消息立马传出去，人们都知道了。想擀毡的，就抽空儿来到在擀的家里，了解情况，看看是否是熟人，毡擀得怎么样，质量好不好。觉得满意时，说了要擀的想法，或丢下一些定钱，确定擀毡时间，这家完了就去，或排在某人后面。就这样，毡匠们一家一户转着，轮流擀毡，从这个村子到那个村子，有时一个多月，有时两个月以上。直到天气寒冷，无法擀下去时，才回到家里。
随着时代发展，出现了机器加工的毛毡，手工制作的棉毡，在市场上很难买到，传统的擀毡技艺不再兴盛，毡匠们大多也转了行，从事其他职业，很少能见到他们的踪影。
时至今日，混进城里多年，往日鲜活的记忆渐渐淡远，似有隔世的感觉。只有简朴的擀毡场景，悠长感人的擀毡曲调，还能时时想起来，觉得那么美好，那么温暖。
Salta Nostalgia: Warm Wool Felt
English Translation 英文译文
Compared to the south, the northwest boasts a different geographical location, significant climate variations, and distinct temperatures, particularly the extreme cold of winter. Even in early spring or early autumn, when the weather turns chilly, people in the northwest lay thick woollen felt on their kangs (traditional heated beds), fill the fire holes with dried firewood, and burn them to keep the kangs warm and cosy, ensuring a comfortable night's sleep. The soft and warm woollen felt plays an indispensable role in the daily lives of the local people.
Most woollen felt is made from sheep's wool. In my hometown, nearly every household raises sheep, typically between three and eight, depending on the family. Raising sheep offers numerous benefits: lambs can be sold for profit, adult sheep provide meat, their wool is used for making felt, and they consume food scraps, preventing waste.
As a child, I remember the felt makers who came to our village were strangers from other places, speaking the Dongxiang dialect, which I mostly couldn't understand. The Hui ethnic group inhabited my town, and everyone spoke Chinese, including at school. I was educated in Chinese from a young age. When guests, especially my uncle, aunt, or their relatives, visited, they would speak the Dongxiang language with my mother, smiling and conversing joyfully. I listened quietly, not understanding a word, feeling like an outsider. Over time, I gradually picked up some vocabulary, such as the names of objects and commonly used phrases.
Among the Dongxiang people are many skilled artisans, including potters, blacksmiths, coppersmiths, carpenters, and felt makers. In August and September, when the crops are harvested and people have more free time, the artisans also have leisure. Those who get along well and are on good terms with each other form groups of three or four, carrying giant bows, willow branches, bamboo screens, and other tools on their backs, travelling to neighbouring villages to make felt for the locals.
According to historical records, the craft of felt-making was first introduced by Mongolian nomadic tribes and has a history of over a thousand years. During the late Song and Yuan dynasties, the Mongolian, Hui, Han, Dongxiang, Salar, and Bao'an ethnic groups living in the northwest mingled and interacted frequently, living in harmony and friendship. The Mongolian-made woollen felt was clean, beautiful, soft, thick, and durable, gaining widespread popularity among other ethnic groups. They actively learned and mastered the skill of felt-making for their use. Thus, the traditional Mongolian felt-making craft spread rapidly through word of mouth, becoming widely used in people's daily lives and bringing great convenience. Later, this craft developed further, leading to the emergence of the profession of felt makers.
The materials used for felt-making are mostly sheep's wool, with some using cow hair. Cow hair felt is not as soft and tends to shed, so it is rarely used. Sometimes, people stuff cut sheep wool under eaves or in cracked walls. Over time, the wool gets wet from rainwater, becoming damp, clumped, and challenging to separate. The felt makers take these wool pieces, spread them out on the ground or door panels in the yard, and expose them to the sun to dry. They pick out impurities like sheep dung, weeds, and cloth fragments.
Although the sheared wool appears clean and white, when torn open, it is still dirty and greasy inside. The felt makers mix fine, dry soil into the spread-out wool, wielding willow branches to beat it. The grease is gradually removed by mixing soil and grease and mutual rubbing and squeezing.
Next, the felt makers set up wooden frames in a large room and lay down a king-sized flatboard to start carding the wool. Young felt makers wear protective clothing, hats, and masks, gripping giant bows and beating the wool with a thumping sound that echoes far. As the strings of the vibrating bow jump, the wool clumps, tumbles and shakes, shedding impurities like sediment, dust, and sand, making the wool exceptionally fluffy and white.
Some households with lively spirits hum long, melancholy, felt-making tunes while washing their feet. The low, lonely, and melancholy melodies are profoundly moving, often reflecting the hardships of life, love between men and women, and hopes for the future. The felt makers sing while working, occasionally taking a sip of tea and joking around, lightening their fatigue and exhaustion.
Some nimble-minded felt craftsmen, adept at composing melodies, would transform the intricate steps of felt-making into catchy lyrics, singing them on the spot with effortless rhyme and rhythm. As the song concluded, laughter would erupt among the artisans, their families joining in with smiles, creating a lively and joyous atmosphere. When wealthier families chanced upon these melancholic tunes, they would gain a deep appreciation for the hardships the artisans endured—travelling, surviving, and labouring through the arduous felt-making process. Moved by this realisation, they would often increase the artisans's wages.
After the felt was rolled, it was time for drying. Iron wires stretched between trees, wooden poles set up by walls, and wide door panels all served as drying racks. Under the bright sun, the earth was bathed in a beautiful light, and the feet, drying to a pristine white, looked even more vivid. When one touches it gently, one feels its fluffy, warm texture. Mischievous children would press their faces against the felt, delighting in its warmth, which penetrated their skin, bringing joy and comfort.
Once the felt-making was completed in one household, the artisans would collect their wages, sling their tools over their backs, and move on to the next household. As soon as they arrived in a village, word spread quickly, and everyone knew. Those interested in having felt made would visit the household where the artisans worked to inquire about the process, check the felt quality, and see if they recognised the artisans. If satisfied, they would express their desire for felt, leave a deposit, and arrange a time for the work. They would then wait for the current job to finish or join the queue. Thus, the artisans rotated among households, moving from one village to another, sometimes staying for over a month or two. They only returned home when the weather grew too cold to continue working.
With time, machine-made and handmade cotton felt emerged, making handmade felt increasingly rare in the market. The traditional craft of felt-making dwindled, forcing most artisans to switch to other professions. Their once-familiar figures became a rare sight.
Even after many years in the city, the vivid memories of the past have gradually faded, leaving a sense of nostalgia for another world. Only the simple scenes of felt-making and the long, touching melodies of the felt-making songs remain, remembered for their beauty and warmth.