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17th Translation Contest: "The Sounds of Silence" » English to Swahili » Entry by Richard Lango


Source text in English

Translation by Richard Lango (#22475)

A theme of the age, at least in the developed world, is that people crave silence and can find none. The roar of traffic, the ceaseless beep of phones, digital announcements in buses and trains, TV sets blaring even in empty offices, are an endless battery and distraction. The human race is exhausting itself with noise and longs for its opposite—whether in the wilds, on the wide ocean or in some retreat dedicated to stillness and concentration. Alain Corbin, a history professor, writes from his refuge in the Sorbonne, and Erling Kagge, a Norwegian explorer, from his memories of the wastes of Antarctica, where both have tried to escape.

And yet, as Mr Corbin points out in "A History of Silence", there is probably no more noise than there used to be. Before pneumatic tyres, city streets were full of the deafening clang of metal-rimmed wheels and horseshoes on stone. Before voluntary isolation on mobile phones, buses and trains rang with conversation. Newspaper-sellers did not leave their wares in a mute pile, but advertised them at top volume, as did vendors of cherries, violets and fresh mackerel. The theatre and the opera were a chaos of huzzahs and barracking. Even in the countryside, peasants sang as they drudged. They don’t sing now.

What has changed is not so much the level of noise, which previous centuries also complained about, but the level of distraction, which occupies the space that silence might invade. There looms another paradox, because when it does invade—in the depths of a pine forest, in the naked desert, in a suddenly vacated room—it often proves unnerving rather than welcome. Dread creeps in; the ear instinctively fastens on anything, whether fire-hiss or bird call or susurrus of leaves, that will save it from this unknown emptiness. People want silence, but not that much.
Mada ya enzi, angalau katika ulimwengu ulioendelea, ni kwamba watu wanatamani sana unyamavu na hawaipati. Ngurumo ya vitu vya uchukuzi, miliyo ya simu isiyoisha, matangazo ya kitarakilishi kwenye mabasi na magari ya moshi, runinga zipigazo kelele hata kwenye maofisi yaliyo tupu, ni mashambulizi na makengeusho yasiyoisha. Jamii ya wanadamu yajichosha na kelele na yatamani kinyume chake—iwe porini, kwenye bahari kuu au pahali pa mapumziko iliyotengwa kwa utulivu na umakini. Alain Corbin, profesa wa historia, aandika kutoka katika kimbilio lake huko Sorbonne, na Erling Kagge, mvumbuzi wa kutoka Norway, kutoka katika kumbukumbu zake za taka za Antaktika, ambamo wote walijaribu kutorokea.

Na bado, vile Bw Corbin anavyoonyesha kwenye "Historia ya Unyamavu", pengine hakuna kelele zaidi kuliko ilivyokuwa. Kabla ya magurudumu ya pumzi, barabara za jiji zilijaa kelele nyingi za magurudumu ya vyuma na viatu vya farasi kwenye mawe. Kabla ya matengano ya hiari kwenye simu za rununu, mabasi na magari ya moshi yalijaa mazungumzo. Wauzaji-magazeti hawakuwacha bidhaa zao kwenye rundo bubu, lakini walizitangaza kwa sauti ya juu, kama vile wachuuzi wa cheri, vayoleti na kibua safi. Sehemu za miigizo na muziki zilikuwa michafuko ya sauti zilizopazwa kwa kukubali au kutokubali. Hata mashambani, wakulima waliimba walipofanya kazi. Hawaimbi sasa.

Kilichogeuka si kiwango cha kelele vile, ambacho karne zilizopita pia zililalamikia, lakini kiwango cha makengeusho, ambacho chachukuwa nafasi ambayo unyamavu ungevamia. Hapo kwaibuka ukweli kinza mwingine, kwa sababu inapovamia—katika kina cha msitu wa misonobari, kwenye jangwa lililo tupu, katika chumba kilochowachwa tupu kwa ghafla—mara nyingi huangaisha badala ya kuwa jambo la kukaribisha. Hofu huingia; sikio lakwamia chochote kisilika, iwe muunzi wa moto au mwito wa ndege au mchakacho wa matawi, ambacho kitakiokoa kutoka kwenye utupu huu usiojulikana. Watu wanataka unyamavu, lakini si kiasi hicho.


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