The Bench

Richard Rive

We form an integral part of a complex society, a society complex in that a vast proportion of the population are denied the very basic privileges of existence, a society that condemns a man to an inferior position because he has the misfortune to be born black, a society that can only retain its precarious social and economic position at the expense of an enormous oppressed proletariat!

Karlie's eyes shone as he watched the speaker. Those were great words, he thought, great words and true. The speaker paused for a moment and sipped some water from a glass. Karlie sweated. The hot October sun beat down mercilessly on the gathering. The trees on the Grand Parade afforded very little shelter and his handkerchief was already soaked where he had placed it between his neck and shirt collar. Karlie stared round him at the sea of faces. Every shade of colour was represented, from shiny ebony to the one or two whites in the crowd. He stared at the two detectives who were busily making shorthand notes of the speeches, and then turned to stare back at the speaker.

It is up to us to challenge the rights of any groups who willfully and deliberately condemn a fellow group to a servile position. We must challenge the rights of any people who see fit to segregate human beings solely on grounds of pigmentation. Your children are denied the rights which are theirs by birth. They are segregated socially, economically...

Ah, thought Karlie, that man knows what he is speaking about. He says I am as good as any other man, even a white man. That needs much thinking. I wonder if he thinks I have the right to go into any bioscope or eat in any restaurant, or that my children can go to any school? These are dangerous ideas and need much thinking; I wonder what Ou Klaas would say to this. Ou Klaas said God made the white man and the black man separately and the one must always be "baas" and the other "jong." But this man says different things and somehow they seem true.

Karlie's brow was knitted as he thought. On the platform were many speakers, both white and black, and they were behaving as if there were no difference of colour between them. There was a white woman in a blue dress offering a cigarette to Nxeli. That could never happen at Bietjiesvlei. Old Lategan at the store would have fainted if his Annatjie had offered Witbooi a cigarette. And Annatjie had no such pretty dress. These were new things, and he, Karlie, had to be careful before he accepted them. But why shouldn't he accept them? He was not coloured any more, he was a human being. The speaker had said so. He remembered seeing pictures in the newspaper of people who defied laws which relegated them to a particular class, and those people were smiling as they went to prison. This was a strange world.

The speaker continued and Karlie listened intently. His speech was obviously carefully prepared and he spoke slowly, choosing his words. This is a great man, Karlie thought.

The last speaker was the white lady in the blue dress, who asked them to challenge any discriminatory laws or measures in every possible manner. Why should she speak like that? thought Karlie. She could go to the best bioscopes, and swim at the best beaches. Why, she was even more beautiful than Annatjie Lategan. They had warned him in Bietjiesvlei about coming to the city. He had seen the Skollies in District Six and knew what to expect there. Hanover Street held no terrors for him. But no one had told him about this. This was new, this set one's mind thinking, yet he felt it was true. She said one should challenge. He would challenge. He, Karlie, would astound old Lategan and Balie at the dairy farm. They could do what they liked to him after that. He would smile like those people in the newspaper.

The meeting was almost over when Karlie threaded his way through the crowd. The words of the speakers were still milling through his head. It could never happen in Bietjiesvlei, he thought, or could it? The sudden screech of a car pulling to a hurried stop whirled him back to his senses. A white head was angrily thrust through the window. "Look where you're going, you black bastard!"

Karlie stared dazedly at him. Surely this white man had never heard what the speakers had said. He could never have seen the white woman offering Nxeli a cigarette. Karlie could never imagine the white lady shouting those words at him. It would be best to catch a train and think these things over.

He saw the station in a new light. Here was a mass of human beings, some black, some white, and some brown like himself. Here they mixed with one another, yet each mistrusted the other with an unnatural fear. Each treated the other with suspicion, each moved in a narrow, haunted pattern of its own manufacture. One must challenge these things the speaker had said... in one's own way. Yet how in one's own way? How was one to challenge? Slowly it dawned upon him. Here was his chance, the bench. The railway bench with the legend "Europeans Only" neatly painted on it in white. For one moment it symbolized all the misery of the plural South African society. Here was a challenge to his rights as a man. There it stood, a perfectly ordinary wooden railway bench, like hundreds of thousands of others in South Africa. His challenge. That bench, now, had concentrated in it all the evils of a system he could not understand. It was the obstacle between himself and humanity. If he sat on it he was a man. If he was afraid he denied himself membership as a human in a human society. He almost had visions of righting the pernicious system if only he sat on that bench. Here was his chance. He, Karlie, would challenge.

He seemed perfectly calm when he sat down on the bench, but inside his heart was thumping wildly. Two conflicting ideas now throbbed through him. The one said, "I have no right to sit on this bench"; the other said, "Why have I no right to sit on this bench?" The one voice spoke of the past, of the servile position he had occupied on the farms, of his father and his father's father who were born black, lived like blacks and died like oxen. The other voice spoke of the future and said, "Karlie, you are a man. You have dared what your father would not have dared. You will die like a man!"

Karlie took out a cigarette and smoked. Nobody seemed to notice his sitting there. This was an anti-climax. The world still pursued its monotonous way. No voice shouted "Karlie has conquered!" He was a normal human being sitting on a bench in a busy station, smoking a cigarette. Or was this his victory, the fact that he was a normal human being? A well-dressed white woman walked down the platform. Would she sit on the bench, Karlie wondered. And then that gnawing voice, "You should stand and let the white woman sit." Karlie narrowed his eyes and gripped tighter at his cigarette. She swept past him without the slightest twitch of an eyelid and walked on down the platform. Was she afraid to challenge, to challenge his right to be human? Karlie now felt tired.

A third conflicting emotion was now creeping in, a compensatory emotion which said, "You do not sit on this bench to challenge; you sit there because you are tired. You are tired; therefore you sit." He would not move, because he was tired, or was it because he wanted to sit where he liked?

People were now pouring out of a train that had pulled into the station. There were so many people pushing and jostling one another that nobody noticed him. This was his train. It would be quite easy to step into the train and ride off home, but that would be giving in, suffering defeat, refusing the challenge, in fact admitting that he was not a human being. He sat on. Lazily he blew the cigarette smoke into the air, thinking... his mind was far from the meeting and the bench, he was thinking of Bietjiesvlei and Ou Klaas, how he had insisted that Karlie should come to Cape Town. Ou Klaas could look so quizzically at one and suck at his pipe. He was wise to know and knew much. He had said one must go to Cape Town and learn the ways of the world. He would spit and wink slyly when he spoke of District Six and the women he knew in Hanover Street. Ou Klaas knew everything. He said God made us white or black and we must therefore keep our places.

Get off this seat!

Karlie did not hear the gruff voice. Ou Klaas would be on the land now, waiting for his tot of cheap wine.

I said get off the bench, you swine!

Karlie suddenly whipped back to reality. For a moment he was going to jump up, then he remembered who he was and why he was sitting there. Suddenly he felt very tired. He looked up slowly into a very red face that stared down at him.

Get up! I said. There are benches down there for you!

Karlie stared up and said nothing. He stared up into very sharp, cold gray eyes.

Can't you hear me speaking to you, you black swine!

Slowly and deliberately Karlie puffed at his cigarette. So this was his test. They both stared at each other, challenged with the eyes, like two boxers, each knowing that they must eventually trade blows yet each afraid to strike first.

Must I dirty my hands on scum like you?

Karlie said nothing. To speak would be to break the spell, the supremacy he felt he was slowly gaining. An uneasy silence. Then...

I will call a policeman rather than kick a Hotnot like you! You can't even open your black jaw when a white man speaks to you!

Karlie saw the weakness. The white youth was afraid to take action himself. He, Karlie, had won the first round of the bench dispute!

A crowd now collected. "Afrika!" shouted one joker. Karlie ignored the remark. People were now milling around, staring at the unusual sight of a black man sitting on a white man's bench. Karlie merely puffed on.

Look at the black ape! That's the worst of giving these Kaffirs too much rope!

I can't understand it, they have their own benches!

Don't get up, you have every right to sit there!

He'll get hell when a policeman comes!

Mind you, I can't see why they shouldn't sit where they please!

I've said before, I've had a native servant, and a more impertinent...

Karlie sat and heard nothing. Irresolution had now turned to determination. Under no condition was he going to rise. They could do what they liked.

So this is the fellow. Hey, get up there! Can't you read? The policeman was towering over him. Karlie could see the crest on his buttons and the thin wrinkles on his neck. "What is your name and address?"

Karlie still maintained his obstinate silence. It took the policeman rather unawares. The crowd was growing every minute.

You have no right to speak to this man in such a manner! It was the white lady in the blue dress.

Mind your own business! I'll ask your help when I need it. It is people like you who make Kaffirs think they're as good as white people! Then, addressing Karlie, "Get up, you!"

I insist that you treat him with proper respect!

The policeman turned red. "This..." this..." He was at a loss for words.

Kick up the Hotnot if he won't get up! shouted a spectator.

Rudely a white man laid hands on Karlie. "Get up, you bloody bastard!"

Karlie turned to resist, to cling to the bench, his bench. There were more than one man now pulling at him. He hit out wildly and then felt a dull pain as somebody rammed a fist into his face. He was now bleeding and wild-eyed. He would fight for it. The constable clapped a pair of handcuffs round Karlie's wrists and tried to clear a way through the crowd. Karlie was still struggling. A blow or two landed on him. Suddenly he relaxed and slowly struggled to his feet. It was useless fighting any longer. Now it was his turn to smile. He had challenged and won. Who cared at the result?

Come on, you swine! said the policeman, forcing Karlie through the crowd.

Certainly, said Karlie for the first time, and stared at the policeman with the arrogance of one who dared to sit on a "European" bench.

长凳

理查德·里夫

“我们是这个复杂社会必不可少的一部分，这个社会复杂是因为很大一部分人被剥夺了生存这项最基本的权利；这个社会让一个人处于劣势只因为他生来是个黑人；这个社会以压迫许许多多无产阶级为代价来保住它岌岌可危的社会和经济地位！”

卡里注视着演讲者，眼睛里闪着光。他觉得演讲者的话很在理，深刻而现实。演讲者停顿了片刻，喝了口杯子里的水。卡里汗流浃背。十月火辣辣的太阳无情地照在集会者的身上。大广场上的树只能提供一点点的阴凉，他放在脖子和衬衫衣领之间的手絹已经湿透了。卡里注视着演讲者，周围有无数张面孔。在人群中各色人种都能看到，从黝黑发亮的有色人种到为数不多的白人。他盯着两个正在快速记录演讲者的话的警探看了一会儿，然后将目光转回到演讲者身上。

“任何种族肆意强迫某个同胞种族处于受奴役的地位，我们都应该向他们发起挑战了。我们必须挑战那些人的权利，他们认为应该将人们隔离开来，仅仅是因为肤色的不同。你们的孩子被剥夺了生来就属于他们的权利。他们在社会上、经济上都被隔离开来了……”

啊，卡里在想，那人知道他在说些什么吧。他说我与其他所有人一样，甚至和白人也一样。这有点琢磨不透。不知道他是否认为我有权利去任何一家影院看电影，去任何一家餐馆用餐，我的孩子有权利去任何一所学校上学？这是些危险的想法，需要好好考虑；不知道欧·克拉斯对此会怎么看。欧·克拉斯说上帝分别造了白人和黑人，一个必须永远是“主人”，而另一个永远是“下人”。但这个人所说的不同，不知怎的，他说的倒像是真话。

卡里这么想着，眉头紧锁。讲台上有许多演讲者，白人和黑人都有，他们的举止行为就好像他们之间不存在肤色上的差别一样。有位身着蓝色连衣裙的白人妇女递给恩克塞里一支烟。在别吉斯乌雷，这种事情绝对不会发生。如果他的安娜特杰递给韦特布依一支烟的话，商店里的老雷特甘会气得昏过去。另外，安娜特杰也没有这么漂亮的连衣裙。这些都是新鲜事，他——卡里——在接受这些之前要小心谨慎。但他有什么理由不该接受它们呢？他不再是有色人种了，他是一个人。演讲者是这样说的。他记得在报纸上看到过一些人的照片，他们公开反对将他们划归为某一特定阶级的法律条文，那些人在走进监狱时脸上仍带着微笑。这真是一个奇怪的世界。

演讲者继续着他的发言，卡里认真地听着。显然，他的演讲是经过精心准备的，他讲话速度很慢，斟酌着用词。这是一个了不起的人物，卡里心想。

最后发言的是那位身着蓝色连衣裙的白人妇女，她号召大家用一切可能的方式挑战任何歧视性的法律和措施。她为什么那样说呢？卡里在想。她可以去最好的影院看电影，在最漂亮的海滩上游泳。她为什么那样说呢？她比安娜特杰·雷特甘还要漂亮。在别吉斯乌雷，人们已经警告过他进城要小心。他在第六区也曾见到过黑人中的流氓，知道在这里会发生什么事情。汉诺威大街并不让他感到恐惧。但没有人告诉他这件事。新鲜，真叫人犯嘀咕，然而他觉得演讲者说的没错。她说一个人应该挑战，他要发出挑战。他——卡里——将要让老雷特甘和奶牛场的巴利大吃一惊。事后他们可以对他想怎么着就怎么着。而他会像报纸上的那些人一样地微笑。

集会快要结束时，卡里慢慢穿过人群。演讲者们的话仍然在他的脑子里打转。那种事情在别吉斯乌雷绝对不会发生，不过也许会发生呢？他想着。一辆小汽车刺耳的刹车声让他迅速恢复了意识。一个白人非常气愤地将头伸出车窗。“看路啊，你这个黑杂种！”

卡里惊愕地瞪着他。这个白人肯定没有听到过演讲者们的那番话。他肯定没有看到过那个白人妇女递烟给恩克塞里。卡里想象不出那位白人妇女会这样冲他喊叫。最好还是先赶上火车，再把发生的这一切好好想想吧。

他从一个新的角度来看这个火车站。熙熙攘攘的人群中有黑人，有白人，也有像他一样棕色皮肤的人。在这里，人们混杂在一起，然而每个人都带着一种不自然的恐惧感，对其他人不信任。每个人都带着怀疑对待他人，每个人的一举一动都带着自己的狭隘和焦虑不安。那位演讲者说过，我们必须用自己的方式挑战这些东西。然而，什么是自己的方式呢？一个人如何去挑战？他慢慢有了一个主意。他的机会来了，就是这张长凳。车站的长凳上清晰地用白漆印着“仅限欧洲人”的字样。刹那间，他觉得长椅成了南非社会中众多人受苦受难的象征。这是对他作为一个人的权利的挑战。它在那儿立着，一个非常普通的铁路专用木制长凳，就像南非国内几十万张长凳一样。他要向长凳发出挑战。现在，这张长凳上已经集中了那个令他无法理解的制度包含的所有邪恶，那是立在他和人道之间的障碍。如果他坐在上面，他就是一个完整的人。如果他害怕的话，他就否定了他在人类社会作为一个人的资格。他几乎认为只要坐到了那个长凳上，他就是在纠正这充满邪恶的制度。这就是他的机会。他，卡里，要发出挑战。

当他坐在长凳上时，似乎显得非常平静，但他的心在怦怦直跳。两种冲突的想法在他心里搏斗。一个说我没有权利坐在这个长凳上。”另一个说我为什么没有权利坐在这个长凳上？”一个声音在说过去，说他在农场里受奴役的地位，说他的父亲和他的祖父，他们生来就是黑人，像其他黑人一样痛苦地活着，像公牛一样死去。另一个声音谈到了未来，它在说卡里，你是一个人。你已经做了你父亲从来不敢做的事情。死也要死得有人的尊严！”

卡里拿出一支香烟，抽了起来。似乎没有人注意到他坐在那里。这真是令人扫兴。这个世界仍旧在以它单调的方式运转着。没有人喊：“卡里已经成功了！”他仍是一个普通人，正坐在繁忙的火车站的一个长凳上抽着烟。事实是他成了一个普通人，这就是他获得的胜利吗？一位穿着讲究的白人妇女沿着站台走了过来。卡里琢磨着，她会坐在这个长凳上吗？卡里的脑海中响起了那令人痛苦的声音：“你应该站起来，让这位白人妇女坐下。”卡里眯起眼睛，把香烟握得更紧了。那个女人急匆匆地从他身边走过，眼皮连动都没动一下，继续沿着站台走着。她是害怕挑战，挑战他做人的权利吗？卡里现在感到累了。

第三种不同的想法油然而生个让他心安理得一点的想法在说：“你坐在这个长凳上不是挑战，你坐在这儿是因为你累了；你累了，所以你才坐在这儿。”他不会动，是因为他累了，还是因为他想要坐在自己喜欢坐的地方呢？

人们从刚刚进站的火车里涌出。人很多，大家你挤我，我推你，没有人注意到他。这就是他要搭乘的火车，登上火车回家，这是很容易做到的。但那样做就等于屈服，接受失败，放弃挑战，实际上等于承认他不是个人。于是他继续坐在那里，懒洋洋地把抽的烟吐到空气中，思考着……他的思绪已远离这次集会和这张长凳，他正在想别吉斯乌雷和欧·克拉斯，想看欧·克拉斯过去如何坚持卡里应该来开普敦。欧·克拉斯可能会吸着他的烟袋锅，好奇地望着某个人。他很聪明，想了解很多东西，并且见多识广。他说过一个人必须去开普敦，了解世界的各个方面。当他说到第六区和他所认识的汉诺夫大街的女人们时，他总是要吐口水，并诡异地眨着眼睛。欧·克拉斯知道所有的事情。他说上帝把我们造成白人或黑人，因此我们必须安分守己。

“从这个座位上滚开！”

卡里并没有听到这粗暴的声音。欧·克拉斯现在应该在田地里，等着喝他那点便宜的葡萄酒。

“我说了让你从这个长凳上滚开，你这头猪猡！”

卡里猛地回到了现实世界。有一瞬间，他差点跳了起来。然后他想起了他是谁以及他为什么要坐在那里。突然，他感到非常疲惫。他慢慢抬起头来，看到一张涨红的脸朝下盯着自己。

“起来！我说。那边有你坐的长凳！”

卡里抬头注视着，没有作声。他直视着那双尖刻冷漠的灰眼睛。

“难道你听不见我在和你说话吗？你这头黑猪猡！”

卡里故意慢慢地吐着烟雾。这是对他的考验。他们彼此对视着，用眼神交锋，就像两个拳击手，都知道最终会交手，但都害怕先出击。

“非得要我在你这样的贱人身上弄脏我的手吗？”

卡里什么都没说。开口说话将会打破僵局，他感觉自己正在慢慢取得优势。又是一段令人不安的沉寂。然后那个白人又说：

“我要叫警察来，而不会去踢像你这样的笨蛋！当一个白人跟你讲话时，你连张开你那黑嘴巴回话都不会吗？”

卡里看出了他的弱点。这个白人青年不敢自己动手。他——卡里——已经在长凳之争的第一轮较量中获胜！

现在周围已经聚集了一群人。“非洲人！”一个家伙喊道。卡里没有理睬。人们在周围转来转去，围观这难得一见的场面：一个黑人坐在一张属于白人的长凳上。卡里只是继续吞吐着烟雾。

“瞧瞧这只黑猿猴！给这些黑鬼太多的自由真是再糟糕不过了！”

“我真不明白，他们有自己的长凳呀！”

“别站起来，你完全有权利坐在那里！”

“等警察来了，就够他喝一壶了！”

“说真的，我不明白他们为什么不能愿意坐哪儿就坐哪儿！”

“我以前说过，我用过一个黑人奴仆，比这个更放肆……”

卡里坐着，什么都没听进去。之前的犹豫不决现在已变成了坚定不移的决心。无论如何他都不能站起来。他们愿意怎么办就怎么办。

“这么说就是这个家伙了。嗨，站起来！难道你不识字吗？”警察居高临下地看着他。卡里能够看到警服扣子上的徽章和他脖子上的细小皱纹。“你叫什么，住哪里？”

卡里仍旧保持他那固执的沉默。这让警察感到十分意外。围观的人越来越多。

“你没有权利跟这个人用这种方式讲话！”这是那位穿蓝色连衣裙的白人妇女。

“少管闲事！我需要你的帮助的话，我会找你的。正是像你这样的人才让黑人以为他们能和白人一样！”然后，他冲着卡里说起来，嗨！”

“我坚持要求你应该尊重他！”

那个警察脸涨得通红。“这……这……”他无言以对。

“如果这个混蛋不起来，就把他踢起来吧！”一个围观者喊道。

一个白人粗鲁地抓住了卡里。“起来，你这个该死的混蛋！”

卡里转身反抗，死死地抓住长凳——他的长凳。现在不止一个人在拽他。他胡乱地挥着拳头，然后他感到一阵钝痛，有人一拳打在了他的脸上。现在他流着血怒目而视。他要为此而战。那个警察将一副手铐铐在了卡里的手腕上，并竭力在人群中清出一条路来。卡里还在挣扎。他又挨了一两拳。突然，他放松了，慢慢挣扎着站了起来。再继续抗争也是无用的。现在他该微笑了。他已经挑战了，并且成功了。谁还在乎结果？

“快点，你这头猪猡！”那个警察边说边强行将卡里带出了人群。

“当然。”卡里终于开口了，他带着一种敢于坐在“欧洲人”专用长凳上的傲慢神情盯着那个警察说道。

Key Words:

shelter    ['ʃeltə]    

n. 庇护所，避难所，庇护

v. 庇护，保护，

condemn       [kən'dem]     

vt. 谴责，判刑

vt. 宣告(建筑)

population     [.pɔpju'leiʃən]

n. 人口 ，(全体)居民，人数

inferior   [in'fiəriə] 

adj. 次等的，较低的，不如的

complex  ['kɔmpleks]   

adj. 复杂的，复合的，合成的

n. 复合体

precarious     [pri'keəriəs]   

adj. 不确定的，不安全的

bench     [bentʃ]   

n. 长凳，工作台，法官席

vt. 坐

vast [vɑ:st]    

adj. 巨大的，广阔的

n. 浩瀚的太

servile     ['sə:vail]  

adj. 卑屈的，奴隶的

misfortune     [mis'fɔ:tʃən]   

n. 不幸，灾祸

spoke     [spəuk]  

v. 说，说话，演说

particular       [pə'tikjulə]     

adj. 特殊的，特别的，特定的，挑剔的

platform ['plætfɔ:m]    

n. 平台，站台，月台，讲台，(政党的)政纲

bastard   ['bæstəd]

adj. 私生的，错误的，混蛋的 n. 私生子，混蛋

district    ['distrikt]

n. 区，地区，行政区

vt. 把 ... 划

astound  [əs'taund]      

v. 使惊骇，使大吃一惊

adj. 震惊

thrust     [θrʌst]    

n. 推力，刺，力推

v. 插入，推挤，刺

challenge       ['tʃælindʒ]     

n. 挑战

v. 向 ... 挑战

screech   [skri:tʃ]   

n. 尖叫声，尖锐刺耳的声音 v. 尖叫，发出尖锐的声音

manufacture  [.mænju'fæktʃə]   

n. （复）产品，制造，制造业

v. 制造，捏

pattern   ['pætən] 

n. 图案，式样，典范，模式，型

v. 以图案

suspicion        [səs'piʃən]     

n. 猜疑，怀疑

humanity       [hju:'mæniti] 

n. 人类，人性，人道，慈爱，(复)人文学科

obstacle  ['ɔbstəkl]

n. 障碍，绊脚石

legend    ['ledʒənd]      

n. 传说，传奇

mass      [mæs]    

n. 块，大量，众多

adj. 群众的，大规模

concentrated  ['kɔnsentreitid]     

adj. 全神贯注的，浓缩的 动词concentrate

pernicious      [pə'niʃəs]

adj. 有害的，恶性的 邪恶的

understand    [.ʌndə'stænd]

vt. 理解，懂，听说，获悉，将 ... 理解为，认为

challenge       ['tʃælindʒ]     

n. 挑战

v. 向 ... 挑战

monotonous  [mə'nɔtənəs]  

adj. 单调的

bench     [bentʃ]   

n. 长凳，工作台，法官席

vt. 坐(

spoke     [spəuk]  

v. 说，说话，演说

occupied       

adj. 已占用的；使用中的；无空闲的 v. 占有（oc

platform ['plætfɔ:m]    

n. 平台，站台，月台，讲台，(政党的)政纲

spoke     [spəuk]  

v. 说，说话，演说

challenge       ['tʃælindʒ]     

n. 挑战

v. 向 ... 挑战

defeat     [di'fi:t]    

n. 败北，挫败

vt. 战胜，击败

cape       [keip]     

n. 岬，海角，披肩

slyly ['slaili]    

adv. 狡猾地；秘密地；俏皮地

wink [wiŋk]    

n. 眨眼，使眼色，瞬间

v. 眨眼，使眼色，

district    ['distrikt]

n. 区，地区，行政区

swine      [swain]   

n. 猪

strike      [straik]   

n. 罢工，打击，殴打

v. 打，撞，罢工，划

uneasy   [ʌn'i:zi]   

adj. 不自在的，心神不安的，不稳定的，不舒服的

eventually      [i'ventjuəli]    

adv. 终于，最后

supremacy     [sju'preməsi] 

n. 至高，主权，最高权力或地位

deliberately    [di'libəritli]     

adv. 慎重地，故意地

towering ['tauəriŋ]

adj. 高耸的，激烈的，杰出的 动词tower的现在分

obstinate ['ɔbstinit]

adj. 固执的，倔强的，不易屈服的，（病）难治的

address  [ə'dres]  

n. 住址，致词，讲话，谈吐，(处理问题的)技巧

silence    ['sailəns] 

n. 沉默，寂静

vt. 使安静，使沉默

merely    ['miəli]    

adv. 仅仅，只不过

understand    [.ʌndə'stænd]

vt. 理解，懂，听说，获悉，将 ... 理解为，认为