Читать книгу Looking for Aphrodite - David Price Williams - Страница 60

Only afterwards did I realise how foolish that sounded.

A number of men had come outside into the darkness to see what the fuss was about. They peered up at the luminous orb, and then looked at me, and with growing scepticism said:

“Ne yapιyor, Deyvit? Rakιmι içiyor?” “What’s he doing Deyvit? Is he drinking rakι?”

When I said nothing, they turned and went back into the Çayhane, calling over their shoulders.

“Çünkü şu anda biz rakι içiyoruz! Tamammι? Haydi Deyvit!”

“Because right now we’re drinking rakι. Is that OK? Come on Deyvit!”

So we all trooped back inside, opened another bottle and continued the party.

I have thought many times about that night, and about the reaction of the villagers in the Çayhane at Knidos and I think there is something deeply philosophic in their reaction to the astounding news that man had landed on the moon, namely, total indifference. Here was the bouncing balloon Neil Armstrong, self importantly announcing to the world about one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind, or words to that effect, when for the people I was with it had no appreciable impact on their lives whatsoever, in 1969 or at any time since. Thinking about it, that would probably be true of the wider population of the Earth as well. To hunters in the Amazon rain forest, or to cattle keepers on the Nqutu plateau of Central Zululand, or to sheep farmers in the Nant Ffrancon Valley of Snowdonia, or bullock-cart drivers in the Araveli Hills of Rajasthan, it has made no appreciable change to them at all, no giant step in any direction, for good or bad. In fact, so bored have people become with the

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