El Etngrafo

by Jorge Luis Borges

El caso me lo refirieron en Texas, pero haba acontenido en otro estado. Cuenta con un solo protagonista, salvo que
en toda historia los protagonistas son miles, visibles e invisibles, vivos y muertos. Se llamaba, creo, F red Murdock.
Era alto a la manera americana, ni rubio ni moreno, de perfil de hacha, de muy pocas palabras. Nada singular haba
en l, ni siquiera esa fingida singularidad que es propia de los jvenes. Naturalmente respetuoso, no descrea de los
libros ni de quienes escriben los libros. Era suya esa edad en que el hombre no sabe an quin es y est listo para
entregarse a lo que le propone el azar: la mstica del persa o el desconocido origen del hngaro, la aventuras de la
guerra o del lgebra, el puritanismo o la orga.
En la universidad le aconsejaron el estudio de las lenguas indgenas. Hay ritos esotricos que perduran en ciertas
tribus del oeste; su profesor, un hombre entrado en aos, le propuso que hiciera su habitacin en una toldera, que
observara los ritos y que descubriera el secreto que los brujos revelan al iniciado. A su vuelta, redactara una tesis
que las autoridades del instituto daran a la imprenta. Murdock acept con alacridad.
Uno de sus mayores haba muerto en las guerras de la fronte ra; esa antigua discordia de sus estirpes era un vnculo
ahora. Previ, sin duda, las dificultades que lo aguardaban; tena que lograr que los hombres rojos lo aceptaran
como a uno de los suyos.
Emprendi la larga aventura. Ms de dos aos habit en la pradera, bajo toldos de cuero o a la intemperie. Se
levantaba antes del alba, se acostaba al anochecer, lleg a soar en un idioma que no era el de sus padres.
Acostumbr su paladar a sabores speros, se cubri con ropas extraas, olvid los amigos y la ciuda d, lleg a pensar
de una manera que su lgica rechazaba.
Durante los primeros meses de aprendizaje tomaba notas sigilosas, que rompera despus, acaso para no despertar
la suspicacia de los otros, acaso porque ya no las precisaba. Al trmino de un plazo prefijado por ciertos ejercicios, de
ndole moral y de ndole fsica, el sacerdote le orden que fuera recordando sus sueos y que se los confiara al
clarear el da. Comprob que en las noches de luna llena soaba con bisontes.
Confi estos sueos repetidos a su maestro; ste acab por revelarle su doctrina secreta. Una maana, sin haberse
despedido de nadie, Murdock se fue.
En la ciudad, sinti la nostalgia de aquellas tardes iniciales de la pradera en que haba sentido, hace tiempo, la
nostalgia de la ciudad. Se encamin al despacho del profesor y le dijo que saba el secreto y que haba resuelto no
publicarlo.
-- Lo ata su juramento? pregunt el otro.
-- No es sa mi razn -- dijo Murdock --. En esas lejanas aprend algo que no puedo decir.
-- Acaso el idioma ingls es insuficiente? -- observara el otro.
-- Nada de eso, seor. Ahora que poseo el secreto, podra enunciarlo de cien modos distintos y aun
contradictorios. No s muy bien cmo decirle que el secreto es precioso y que ahora l a ciencia, nuestra ciencia, me
parece una mera frivolidad.
Agreg al cabo de una pausa:
-- El secreto, por lo dems, no vale lo que valen los caminos que me condujeron a l.
Esos caminos hay que andarlos.
El profesor le dijo con frialdad:
-- Comunicar su decisin al Concejo. Usted piensa vivir entre los indios?
Murdock le contest:
-- No. Tal vez no vuelva a la pradera. Lo que me ensearon sus hombres vale para cualquier lugar y para cualquier
circunstancia.
Tal fue, en esencia, el dilogo.
Fred se cas, se divorci y es ahora uno de los bibliotecarios de Yale.

The Ethnographer
by Jorge Luis Borges
I heard this story in Texas, but it took place in another state. It has only one protagonist, although in every story the
protagonists are thousands, visible and invisible, living and dead. His name was, I believe, Fred Murdock. He was tall,
in the American way, his hair was neither blond nor black, he had a profile like an axe, and he was a man of few
words.
There was nothing strange about him, not even the fictitious strangeness that is typical of young people. Naturally
respectful, he did not have doubts about books or the people that write the books. His was the age when man still
doesn't know who he is, and he is ready to deliver himself to what change proposes: Persian mysticism, the
unknown origin of the Hungarian language, the adventures of war or algebra, puritanism or the orgy.
In the university they advised him to study Native American languages. There exist exoteric rites that are still
practiced in certain tribes of the West; his professor, a man of a certain age, proposed that he go to live in a ranch,
where he would observe the rites and discover the secret that the shamans reveal to the initiate. When he came
back, he would write a thesis that the Institute's authorities would print. Murdock accepted with enthusiasm.
One of his ancestors had died in the Indian Wars; that ancient enmity between their two lineages turned into a link.
Doubtlessly, he foresaw the difficulties that were waiting for him: he had to make the red men accept him like one of
them.
He started the long adventure. He lived in the prairire for more than two years, under a leather roof, or under the
stars. He woke up before dawn, he went to sleep at dusk, he even dreamed in a language that was not the language
of his fathers. He inured his palate to sharp tastes, he covered himself with strange clothes, he forgot his friends and
the city, and he actually started to think in a way that his own logic refused.
During the first months as an apprentice he took careful notes that later on he would destroy, maybe in order not to
awaken suspicion in the tribe, maybe because he did not need them any more. When a certain time, dedicated to
moral and physical exercises, had elapsed the priest ordered him to remember his dreams, and to relate them to him
at daybreak.
He determined that on full moon nights he dreamed about bisons.
He told his teacher about these repeated dreams; the shaman ended up revealing his se cret doctrine. One morning,
without saying goodbye to anyone, Murdock left.
In the city he felt homesick for those first evenings in the prairie in which he had felt, time before, homesick for the
city. He went to the professor's office, and he said that he knew the secret, and that he was resolved not to publish
it.
"Are you bound by the oath you took", the professor asked.
"That is not the reason", Murdock said, "in those faraway places I learned something that I cannot say."
"Could it be that the English language is not up to the task ?", the other one observed.
"Not at all, sir. Now that I have the secret, I could enounce it in a hundred different, and possibly contradictory,
ways. I don't know how to tell you that the secret is precious, and that now science, our science, seems to me mere
frivolity."
After a pause he said:
"The secret, besides, is worth less than the ways that led me to it. These roads you must have walked."
The professor said coldly: "I will inform the Commitee of your decision. Do you think you are going to live among
the Indians?"
Murdock answered: "No. Maybe I will not go back to the prairie. What its men taught me is valid for every place
and every circumstance"
Such was, in essence, the dialogue.
Fred got married, got divorced and he is now a librarian at Yale.