文章来源:俞孔坚.(2020).城市儿童需要怎样的乐园?景观设计学(中英文) 8(02),pp.6-9+4-5.
相较于当今城市里的儿童,似乎有很多理由可以说我的童年是“不幸福”的:没有专门的儿童游乐场,没有幼儿园里干净整洁的阅览室和琳琅满目的读物,没有乐高,没有形状各异、机关精巧的机器人玩具,也没有可供打滚攀爬的沙坑与网架,以及颜色鲜艳的滑梯;上学没有父母开车接送,校门口也没有守卫斑马线的警察叔叔……但同时,也有同样多的理由让我感到自己的童年是最幸福的。
在我的童年世界里,乐园没有边界,也没有围栏,它们便是溪滩、树林、田野、菜园,还有迷宫一样的巷弄;我甚至经常翻过邻家菜园的围墙,躲藏在黄瓜架的后面,让玩捉迷藏的小伙伴好半天都找不到。更有意思的是,只要你循着弯弯窄窄的田埂,在水渠尽头的小叠瀑下,一定会看到成群的鲫鱼(Carassius auratus)在水花中嬉戏,只需用簸箕或菜篮子当渔具,便可满载而归;田头的土丘上常常会有田鼠洞,洞口藏在草丛中,我和伙伴们往洞里灌水,直到田鼠从另外一个出口逃出,正好钻进我们布设的口袋;更大的“猎物”是在白沙溪与婺江交汇处的鲤鱼(Cyprinus carpio),那正是唐代诗人戴叔伦驻足吟唱《兰溪棹歌》的地方:“兰溪三日桃花雨,半夜鲤鱼来上滩。”不同的是,春雨过后,鲤鱼在白天也会上滩,它们先是像飞箭一样,在水草中逆流穿梭,然后迅速消失在百步之外的深潭里,你必须在此之前将其擒住。一群小孩当然很少有成功的,但在溪滩上捕鱼确实有无限的乐趣,至今还常常在我的梦境中重现。
在五、六岁时,我负责照看一对兔子和一只山羊,它们都是我心爱的伙伴,是母亲带着我到五里之外的农家买来的,并幻想通过“鸡生蛋、蛋生鸡”来补贴家用。兔子必须雌雄配对,因此我也学会了如何鉴别幼兔的性别—那是很难的事。每天放学之后,我都要采一篮筐青草喂兔子,沾满水的青草是不能喂的,也不要采水蓼(Polygonum hydropiper)之类的植物,那都会给兔子带来麻烦。后来,兔子长大要下崽了,在家中院子里的泥土地上打了个地洞做窝,那是它们的天性—所以,如果像城里的儿童那样把兔子养在笼子里或者水泥地上,兔子一定很难受,无论将窝布置得如何精巧,对它们来说都是“监狱”—很快,它们生出了一窝小兔,拿到集市上去卖,可以换来家里的油盐钱。我的小山羊没有挑选得很好,长得又慢又不丰产,三年了只生出一只小羊羔,爸爸就决定把它连小羊羔一起卖掉了,我很是伤心。尽管如此,每天傍晚放羊的经历却带给了我无穷的乐趣,它总是带着我穿越高高低低的田埂,体验沉浸于自然的快乐:或走入布满荆棘的荒冢高地,探寻神秘的境地;或潜入高坡下的深涧,呼吸清凉的空气;或拨开浓密的柳林,在如毡的绿茵上体会豁然开朗的惊喜。
虽然从没有买过玩具,但我的玩具也有不少,比如到村前水塘边挖一块黄泥,把它捏成坦克的车身和轮子,然后在太阳下曝晒,再把晒干的零件组装起来,操纵它在石板桥上隆隆开动;或用黄土捏出冲锋的士兵,再将水菖蒲(Acorus calamus)的叶子做成剑戟。挑选一个理想的树枝做弹弓并不容易,乌桕(Sapium sebiferum)的丫杈是最好的,柳树(Salix spp.)的枝条却不行。用溪滩上的大叶芦竹(Arundo donax)可以做笛子,但最好是用邻家老宅基上长出来的刚竹(Phyllostachys viridis),吹起来声音更加清亮。
早春天,盼着棕榈(Trachycarpus fortunei)花穗从厚厚的叶片包裹中挤出,那是玩打仗游戏最好的弹药,掰下那粟米一样的花粒装进口袋,鼓鼓囊囊的,有种被武装起来的威武感,随时准备与同伴“战斗”;再用花序的苞衣做成帆船,放到水渠中顺流而下。秋天可以做玩具的东西就更多了,我会跟在大人们身后,等他们剥去苎麻(Boehmeria nivea)的纤维,再捡拾白花花的麻杆,用来搭建“房子”;我还会爬上无患子(Sapindus mukorossi)树,摘下金灿灿的果实,把皮剥下来交给姐姐们拿去当肥皂,我则只收藏其中的黑色种子,日积月累,收集了好几罐,偶尔分给同伴们,还因此在他们当中获得了相当高的地位。
沿着田埂路去上学,从不用担心被汽车撞上,也从不需要父母陪送。一路上总伴着潺潺的水流声、不时从脚上跳过的青蛙跃入水渠的噗通声,还有灌木中惊起的鸟鸣。邻村的孩子则从另外一条小径跳跃着奔向学校,身影远远地闪动在齐腰高庄稼的绿涛之上……
反观如今城市中的儿童,车水马龙的街道将他们围困于社区之中,高度硬质化的水系更是潜在的死亡陷阱,电子游戏给他们营造了人工的虚拟世界,就连乐园里所谓的“自然”植被也只是光鲜的园艺化品种和整形化的装饰,想找一只天然萤火虫都成了一种奢侈……我不能说这样的环境没有为儿童带来真正的幸福和欢乐,无益于智力启迪或心灵培育;但我可以肯定的是,他们的梦中绝不会有鲤鱼上滩的惊喜,也不会有从棕榈树上掰下花序的满足,更难以明白缘何仅仅两米高差的土地就可以造就一个与周遭环境迥异的清凉世界。
What Kind of Play Space do Children Need in the City?
Compared to children in the city today, my childhood might seem lacking. There was no special playground, no reading room with new pictured books, no Legos, no sophisticated robot toys of different shapes, no sandpits or colorful slides. There were no parents driving to school to pick up children and no crossing guards at the school gate. At the same time, there were also many reasons that my childhood was a happy one.
When I was a child, the play space had no fences. Creeks, woods, fields, vegetable gardens, and maze-like alleys were all playgrounds. When playing hide-and-seek, I often climbed over walls to hide behind cucumber trellises in my neighbor’s vegetable garden. What was more interesting, if one followed the winding and narrow field banks, groups of crucian carps (Carassius auratus) could be found playing under the cascade at the end of irrigation canals; they could be caught easily just with winnowing fans or bamboo baskets. There were many carves of voles in crop fields, and I often caught voles for fun by pouring water into the holes. One of the best games was catching carp (Cyprinus carpio) at the intersection of the Baisha Stream and the Wujiang River, where Dai Shulun, a poet from the Tang Dynasty, wrote his famous poetry named A Fishman’s Song of Lanxi River, describing the carps that gathered around and jumped onto the river shoal in midnights after spring rains. To my knowledge, carps also appeared during daytime, passing so swiftly through aquatic plants; it was almost impossible to catch them but always joyful to have a try. Such a great fun still remains refresh in my memory.
When I was five or six, my mother bought me a pair of rabbits and a goat from a farmhouse several kilometers away. I was responsible for looking after them and they became my beloved companions. Young rabbits are always matched in pairs, so I learned to identify their sex, which is not an easy task; I also knew that plants like water pepper (Polygonum hydropiper) or wet grasses cannot be fed with rabbits; when the rabbits grew up and prepared to breed, they would make a nest from grass and mud — living in a cage as a children’s pet nowadays is harm to their habit. Then the rabbit babies were sold on market to help with family expenses. My goat was not selected well. It grew up slowly and gave birth to only one lamb after three years. Later they were both sold, which made me very sad. Nonetheless, the experience of raising the goat and herding it every day after school brought lots of fun. It was a joy to be immersed in nature as I walked with the goat: I explored the undulating fields, the mysterious lands, the mountain creeks with cool air, and the open grasslands behind the willow groves.
Although I never bought toys, I had lots of things to play. The mud dug out of the pond could be made into a shape of tank and then left it to dry in the sun. The dried tank became a fantastic toy along with mud “soldiers” with calamus (Acorus calamus) “swords.” Other times I would make slingshots from branches of Chinese tallow tree (Sapium sebiferum), rather than willow trees (Salix spp.). For a flute, bamboo reeds (Arundo donax), especially rigid bamboo (Phyllostachys viridis), are the best for a clear and melodious sound.
In the early spring, the corn-like spikes of palms (Trachycarpus fortunei) were always the best “ammunition” for battle games, which could be collected in pockets, making me feel armed, mighty, and ready to “fight” at any time. Their spathes could float in the canal as “ships.” In the autumn, there were more materials to make toys. I often followed the adults, waiting for them to strip the fiber of ramies (Boehmeria nivea), then picking up the white stalks to build “houses.” I would also climb chinaberry trees (Sapindus mukorossi) to harvest the golden fruits, saving their skins as soaps and collecting the small black seeds for trading with friends, which brought me high status among them.
On the way to school along the edges of fields, I never worried about being hit by a car or needed protection of my parents. The sound of gurgling creeks, splashing frogs, and chirping birds kept me company. Kids from neighboring villages also ran to school, jumping up and down through the fields, where the breezing green crops seemed to echo their cheers.
Today, children in the city are besieged by busy streets and harden water systems full of latent danger, and they often have to stay close to home. Video games create an artificial world for children, artificial play places increase, and the so-called “natural” landscapes in urban parks are nothing but neatly trimmed horticultural plants — now finding a firefly becomes a luxury. I do not want to suggest that such an environment has not engendered childlike joy or enlightenment; but I am afraid that children in the city could hardly imagine a world with jumping carps, inflorescences of palm trees, and the dramatic micro-climate changes within the undulating landform.