http://s7/middle/4ace1e87g82b5bdf0fc06&690

http://s4/middle/4ace1e87g82b5c7fb92c3&690

http://s2/middle/4ace1e87g82b5ccc03461&690

http://new.cphoto.net/chinese/kl/liuheng/32-4.jpg

http://s6/orignal/4a2354a22a1ada1dd4ae5

            吊脚楼                         

                      作者：雪笛           
       生在新疆维语尔自治区伊宁市的我，小时候总爱往阿洪庙跑，去看维语尔老乡们的礼拜。

    父亲总是在这个时候捉住我，向我述说我们的老家湖南省江华瑶族自治县的瑶家吊脚楼。

    还说那里的人在吊脚楼里生长，背着背娄上山采蘑菇、竹笋、玉米，还以吃上竹筒饭，听瑶歌，看瑶族长鼓舞，真是叫人向往啊――我的江华瑶族山寨。
    真正走进吊脚楼，是我们举家迁回祖籍湖南省江华瑶族自治县的第三年。那年我初中毕业时班里有一个瑶山的同学盘相斌邀请我去他这做客，盛情难却就一同前往。
    我们先从县城沱江镇乘车去务江，然后过渡，接着便是徒步三十里的山路才可以到他的家――务江乡金板冲。
    三十里弯弯曲曲的山路一路走过，无数正宗的瑶家吊脚楼映入眼帘：有的临水而居；有的依山而恬；有的落座山涧；有的映入丛林。那份清新雅致；那幅幸福祥和；那片田园风光；那缕瑶风拂面。醉了我的心，醉了我多年的梦，醉了我的前进和后退……
    到家了，相斌捧出一大碗苦茶让我解渴。清凉的茶，甜甜的带一份淡淡的香气溢人心脾。
    他阿妈烧火煮饭微笑着面对每一件事。
    他阿爸拉我在自家的吊脚楼前边聊边喝茶。我好似到了家一样的温暖。那份亲切在别处是无法体会的；那份真挚在别处是无法想像的。我沉浸在这份喜悦、温暖、幸福中好开心好快乐……
    晚餐在吊脚楼里举行，酒是瑶家汉子的最爱。大碗大碗的吞咽瑶家汉子的豪爽。可我向来不喝酒，却也逃不过这瑶家自酿的情感。
    酒悄悄流进我的肚子，流进我的血管，流进我的这篇文字里。
    醉了。肚子里翻江倒海。我这就醉了吗？一路折腾向口腔进发。这么真实的醉了吗？真的吐了吗？吐了。难受，幸福的难受……
    鸟鸣唤醒我疲惫的心，我睁开眼睛，呼吸了一口清新的空气。
    窗外，松涛阵阵，溪流欢歌，阳光普照，晨炊袅袅，莫非我走进了世外桃源？
    用最快的速度洗漱，吃了早饭便和相斌背了背娄去认识瑶山，去认识撒落瑶寨的颗颗明珠――吊脚楼。
    山路。 又一次踏上山路。
    相斌说山泉水喂养的瑶歌在吊脚楼里生长，吊脚楼是她的家。这时歌声响起，甜甜的瑶歌在瑶寨回荡。
    吊脚楼上那古老的木窗格子里又飘出山泉水一样叮咚的声音，甜润枯燥乏味的生活。绿绿的山风拉着醉人的瑶歌震撼响彻瑶山的角角落落。
    歌声装在背娄里走出吊脚楼，盛在酒碗里，铺在弯弯曲曲的山路上，落在亮着心灯的阿妹的吊脚楼下，吻在阿妹甜甜的梦靥里。
    蓝天上飘着朵朵白云，背娄里躺着陈年的旧事。
    口渴了，你随便走进哪家吊脚楼，都会有清爽的苦茶滋润你心田；你累了，随时可以席地而坐，听松涛虫鸣，品山林幽静；你饿了，随便刨几个红薯烧几个玉米。在这山里，你是主人，你是主宰命运的主人。
    走进大山，你会发现竹笕在山边把清澈的山泉水一路接进瑶家吊脚楼。那个把人高的木桶里，山泉水舀也妥不完。那水是吊脚楼的生命之水，养着憨厚纯朴的阿哥，养着如花似玉的阿妹，养着缠绵的瑶歌――不屈的民族之歌。
    吊脚楼，累了一天的背娄在夕阳西下的时候回到你的怀抱。山里的玉米，红薯、花生和着一天的幸福喜悦也回到了你的怀抱。
    大锅里烧着竹笕接回来的山泉水。洗去一天的疲惫、臭汗、尘土和烦燥。晚餐不敢沾酒。怕醉在吊脚楼，怕弄脏了吊脚楼，怕脏了那份心情。
    吊脚楼：你的每一根木头都是一曲瑶歌；每一块木板，都是一个故事；每一片瓦砾，都是一抹风景；每一簇篝火都是一段生活。
    吊脚楼，你的故事不管是喜是悲，都是让人永远回味的没有结尾的长篇……

                                Diaojiao House

    I was born in Yining(Ghulja), Xinjiang Uigur Autonomous Region. When I was young, I always ran across to the Ahong Mosque to visit the Uighurs' worship. And then my father always would stop me, and told me about the Yao's Diaojiao House of his hometown, the Jianghua Yao Autonomous County, Hunan Province.

My father also often talked about the story of Yao people with me: the Yao people live in Diaojiao House. They carry the packbasket to reap mushroom, sweet corn and bamboo sprouts among mountain. They eat the Bamboo-tube Rice. They sing the Yao's songs and dance the Long Drum Dance. How it was desirable to go there.

It was really the third year since my all family had been back to hometown of Jianghua. Pan Xiangbin, my classmate of junior school was from the Yao's mountain village. I went to his house on his kind invitation that was why I stepped up the Yao's Diaojiao House for the first time. 

His house was located on a place which was named Jinbanchong. At first, we went to Wujiang village from Tuojiang Town by bus, and then we crossed the Wujiang River by ferry. After that we walked on the rugged mountain path for about nine miles. 

Lots of traditional Yao's Diaojiao houses came into view along the winding mountain path. Some houses were built near the streams, or built against the mountain, or some located among the valley and the jungle. With Yao's traditional rurality, I felt fresh and peaceful. I was intoxicated with the current landscape and also involved in my aged dreams, along with my future and past days.

Xiangbin served a bowl of bitter tea to thirsty me after we arrived home. The cool tea, with quiet fragrance of sweetness, refreshed my mind.

His mother who's always optimstic about everything was cooking for us. And that, his father and I sat by the side of his private Diaojiao house and chatted over tea. It felt like home to me. I had never been experiencing and imagining the feelings of warmth and geniality at any other places before. I was delightfully immersed in an atmosphere of peace, joy and happiness.

We also had dinner in Xiangbin's private Diaojiao house. Wine was the Yao men's favorite drink all along. They believe that swallowing the wine would assert their manhood of openness and generosity. I did not drink all along, but I could not escape from their hospitality, so I drank only a little bit.

It should be flowing into my belly, my veins and my writting words quietly.

I got fried. It felt like as a strom was brewing from my stomach to my mouth. Did I get really fried? I began to vomit finally. Oh yes, I vomited. I felt bad but I was so happy.

Birds woke me up, and woke up my mind. I opened my eyes, and thankfully breathed the fresh air.

From outside of the window, I heard the intermittent sound of the wind in the pines, and the running water of the little brook. I also saw the smoke was curing upward from kitchen chimneys. What a wonderful sunny morning it was. Does it mean I went into the Shangri-la?

I was in a hurry to wash up and eat breakfast. After that, Xiangbin and I decided to go out for visiting the Yao's village and the Diaojiao houses that looked like some pearls strewn on the Yao's village. So we carried the bamboo baskets on the backs and started on our way.

Oh yes, the winding mountain path. We set foot on it again.

Xiangbin said that the Yao's songs grew out of the Yao people's life, and the Diaojiao House was the place where the Yao people born, raised and lived. After that, he began to sing the Yao's song. The Yao's village among the valley echoed his sweet sound of singing.

I heard some voices as spring water was make song-ding dong from the old wooden window lattice on the Diaojiao House. The intoxicated sound of singing with the wind reverberated through the Yao's mountain village of everywhere. It has been enriched Yao people's spiritual life.

The sound of singing, it seems that wafted up from the Diaojiao house by someone's packbasket, filled in the wine bowl, strewn on the winding mountain path, fell over the heart of a Yao lady, and settled in the sweet dream of the Yao lady.

There are white clonds in the blue sky. At that time, I thought of the old story about the Yao's packbasket that my father talked to me.

You can casually walk into any Diaojiao house if you are thirsty. The Yao people would serve you a bowl of bitter tea. You can casually sit on the ground for relaxing whenever you feel tired. When you get hungry, you can pick some sweet potatoes or maize for cooking in the field. So you are a host when you are in the Yao's mountain village. And you are also the master of your own destiny! 

When you walked into the Yao's mountain village, you would find the Yao people draw the clear mountain spring water to supply the Diaojiao house along a conduit made of long bamboo poles. The water is stored in a large wooden tub that is as tall as men. It seems that the spring water will never be used up. And the Yao people ladled out the spring water from the wooden tub when they were in need. That is a water of Yao's life that feed the simple and honest Yao's guys, the beautiful and graceful Yao's ladies and all of Yao people. Even the water also feed the melodious Yao's songs, the songs of an indomitable nation.

Oh, the Diaojiao House! It was nearly sunset when we dragged ourselves home with the packbaskets that filled full of maize, sweet potatoes, peanuts, joy and happiness.

The water that was from the long bamboo poles for bathing was heated in a vat. I had a wonderful hot bath that washed out tiredness, perspiration, dust and restlessness. I dared not drink at dinner. I was afraid to be drunk, dirty up the Diaojiao House and make my mood soiled.

Oh, the Diaojiao House! Everything of the Diaojiao House would be a Yao's song, a interesting story, a beautiful landscape and a wonderful life.

Oh, the Diaojiao House! The story of the Diaojiao House must be an endless thought-provoking serial whatever it was joyful or sad!