Words matter. They can heal and they can kill ... yet, they have a limit.
词汇是很重要的。它们能治愈，它们也能杀戮...然而，它们也有极限。
When I was in eighth grade, my teacher gave me a vocabulary sheet with the word "genocide." I hated it.
我读八年级的时候，我的老师给我一张词汇表，上面有“种族灭绝”这个词。我很恨它。
The word genocide is clinical ... overgeneral ... bloodless ... dehumanizing.
种族灭绝这个词是无情的...过度概括化的...残酷冷血的...毫无人性化可言的。
No word can describe what this does to a nation.
没有词能够描述它对一个国家做了什么。
You need to know, in this kind of war, husbands kills wives, wives kill husbands, neighbors and friends kill each other.
你们要知道，在这种战争中，丈夫会杀死妻子，妻子会杀死丈夫，邻居和朋友杀害彼此。
Someone in power says, "Those over there ... they don't belong. They're not human."
某个有权的人说：“那边的那些人...他们不属于这里。他们不是人。”
And people believe it. I don't want words to describe this kind of behavior. I want words to stop it.
而大家就相信了。我不想要用任何词来描述这种行为。我想要用词汇来阻止它的发生。
But where are the words to stop this? And how do we find the words?
但能用来阻止它的语言在哪里？我们要如何找到那些词汇？
But I believe, truly, we have to keep trying.
但我真心相信，我们得要持续尝试。
I was born in Kigali, Rwanda. I felt loved by my entire family and my neighbors.
我出生于卢旺达的基加利。我感受到我全家人的爱及我邻居对我的爱。
I was constantly being teased by everybody, especially my two older siblings.
我常常被每个人戏弄，特别是两位比我年长的手足。
When I lost my front tooth, my brother looked at me and said, "Oh, it has happened to you, too? It will never grow back."
当我的门牙掉下来时，我哥哥看着我说：“喔，你也遇到这状况了？它永远不会长回来。”
I enjoyed playing everywhere, especially my mother's garden and my neighbor's. I loved my kindergarten.
我很享受到处玩耍，特别是去我妈妈的花园和邻居的花园里玩。我很爱我的幼儿园。
We sang songs, we played everywhere and ate lunch. I had a childhood that I would wish for anyone.
我们会唱歌，我们到处玩耍，吃午餐。我拥有的童年，是我希望大家都能拥有的。
But when I was six, the adults in my family began to speak in whispers and shushed me any time that I asked a question.
但当我六岁时，我家中的成人们开始窃窃私语，当我问问题时就叫我安静。
One night, my mom and dad came. They had this strange look when they woke us.
有天晚上，我妈妈和爸爸来了。他们叫醒我们时表情很奇怪。
They sent my older sister Claire and I to our grandparent's, hoping whatever was happening would blow away.
他们把我姐姐克莱儿和我送到我们的祖父母家，希望不论发生什么事都会烟消云散。
Soon we had to escape from there, too.
很快我们也得逃离那里。
We hid, we crawled, we sometimes ran.
我们躲藏，我们匍匐，有时我们快跑。
Sometimes I heard laughter and then screaming and crying and then noise that I had never heard.
有时，我听见笑声，接着是尖叫声和哭声，接着是我从来没有听过的噪音。
You see, I did not know what those noises were.
是这样的，我当时不知道那些噪音是什么。
They were neither human -- and also at the same time, they were human.
它们不是人类的声音--但同时，它们又是人类的声音。
I saw people who were not breathing. I thought they were asleep.
我看到没有呼吸的人，我以为他们在沉睡。
I still didn't understand what death was, or killing in itself.
我当时并不了解死亡是什么，或者杀戮是什么。
When we would stop to rest for a little bit or search for food,
当我们停下来休息一下或是寻找食物时，
I would close my eyes, hoping when I opened them, I would be awake.
我会闭上我的眼睛，希望当我睁开眼睛时，我会醒来。
I had no idea which direction was home. Days were for hiding and night for walking.
我不知道哪个方向才是家。白天要躲藏，晚上才能行走。
You go from a person who's away from home to a person with no home.
你会从一个远离家的人，变成一个没有家的人。

The place that is supposed to want you has pushed you out, and no one takes you in.
应该要接纳你的那个地方，把你赶出来，没有人肯收留你。
You are unwanted by anyone. You are a refugee.
没有人想要你。你是个难民。
From age six to 12, I lived in seven different countries, moving from one refugee camp to another, hoping we would be wanted.
从六岁到十二岁，我住过七个不同的国家，从一个难民营搬到另一个，希望会有人要我们。
My older sister Claire, she became a young mother ... and a master at getting things done.
我姐姐克莱儿，她成了年轻的母亲...以及是个能把各种事物都搞定的大师。
When I was 12, I came to America with Claire and her family on refugee status.
我十二岁时，我和克莱儿及她的家人以难民的身份来到美国。
And that's only the beginning, because even though I was 12 years old,
那只是开端，因为即使我当时十二岁，
sometimes I felt like three years old and sometimes 50 years old.
有时我感觉自己才三岁，有时却是五十岁。
My past receded, grew jumbled, distorted. Everything was too much and nothing.
我的过去变淡了，变混乱了，变扭曲了。一切都难以承受，却又微不足道。
Time seemed like pages torn out of a book and scattered everywhere. This still happens to me standing right here.
时间就像是从书上撕下来的页面，散在各处。就连我现在站在这里，都还有这种感觉。
After I got to America, Claire and I did not talk about our past.
在我到了美国之后，克莱儿和我避而不谈我们的过去。
In 2006, after 12 years being separated away from my family,
2006年，那时我与我的家人已经分离了十二年，
and then seven years knowing that they were dead and them thinking that we were dead,
以为他们已经死了七年了，他们也以为我死了，
we reunited ... in the most dramatic, American way possible.
终于，我们重聚了...以最戏剧性的美式方法重聚了。
Live, on television -- on "The Oprah Show." I told you, I told you.
电视的实况转播--在《欧普拉秀》上。我说过了，我说过了。
But after the show, as I spent time with my mom and dad and my little sister and my two new siblings that I never met, I felt anger.
但在节目之后，当我花时间和我爸妈、妹妹，还有两个我没见过的手足相处，我感到愤怒。
I felt every deep pain in me. And I know that there is absolutely nothing, nothing,
我感到内在所有深刻的痛苦。我知道绝对没有可能，没有可能，
that could restore the time we lost with each other and the relationship we could've had.
可以弥补我们本来应该给彼此的时间，以及本来可以拥有的关系。
Soon, my parents moved to the United States, but like Claire, they don't talk about our past.
没多久，我父母搬到美国，但就像克莱儿，他们也不谈我们的过去。
They live in never-ending present. Not asking too many questions, not allowing themselves to feel -- moving in small steps.
他们活在永无止境的现在。不问太多问题，不允许他们自己去感受--以小步伐移动。
None of us, of course, can make sense of what happened to us.
当然，我们都无法将发生在我们身上的事真正化解。
Though my family is alive -- yes, we were broken, and yes, we are numb and we were silenced by our own experience.
虽然我的家人还活着--是的，我们是破碎的，是的，我们是麻木的，而且我们因为所经历的事而沉默。
It's not just my family. Rwanda is not the only country where people have turned on each other and murdered each other.
不只有我的家人如此。并不只有在卢旺达大家才会攻击彼此，谋杀彼此。
The entire human race, in many ways, is like my family.
所有人类，在许多层面上，就和我的家人一样。
Not dead; yes, broken, numb and silenced by the violence of the world that has taken over.
没有死；是的，因为世界的暴力而破碎、麻木及沉默。那暴力占据了一切。
You see, the chaos of the violence continues inside in the words we use and the stories we create every single day.
你们知道吗，暴力的混乱持续着，就在我们使用的词汇中以及我们每天创造的故事中。
But also on the labels that we impose on ourselves and each other.
但也在我们贴在彼此身上的标签里。
Once we call someone "other," "less than," "one of them" or "better than,"
一旦我们称某人是“其他人”、“处于劣势”、“他们的一员”，或“处于优势”，
believe me ... under the right condition, it's a short path to more destruction.
相信我...在合适的条件下，它就是通往更多毁灭的快捷方式。
More chaos and more noise that we will not understand.
更多的混乱和更多的喧嚣就这样无法理解地发生了。
Words will never be enough to quantify and qualify the many magnitudes of human-caused destruction.
词汇永远不足以量化、质化许多人类所造成的程度重大的毁灭。
In order for us to stop the violence that goes on in the world, I hope -- at least I beg you -- to pause.
为了让我们能够阻止世界上不断发生的暴力，我希望--至少我恳求各位--暂停下来。
Let's ask ourselves: Who are we without words? Who are we without labels?
让我们问问自己：没有了词汇，我们是谁？没有了标签，我们是谁？
Who are we in our breath? Who are we in our heartbeat?
在我们的呼吸间，我们是谁？在我们心跳时，我们又是谁？