We pick up from last week--just to recap, Clete was running swimming training with Ba, Yi, Fei, and Jie (Eight, Eve, Faye, and Angel) when Ba's mother Da Mei and Yi's mother Na drop by get all the girls to rehearsal. Discussion regarding ethnic pejorative terms led Mei to relate a historical tale to Clete. Of course, race relationships turn out to be more nuanced on The Island than Clete imagines, as he stumblingly imposes his American frame of reference on things.
Just so you you know the author's intent here, I really wanted to have Cut/Wool/Bao be found by a beautiful, romantic young man rather than a girl, because Dog Island is a place I imagine where such a relationship would be perfectly acceptable in their laissez-faire society. But I really need Ba and Yi to be Bao's descendants, so he had to be heterosexual.
Anyway, today's episode gives you a little more time with Mei who shifts moods as easily as a breeze changes direction. She's been given a job to get him to his next appointment with destiny.
as the story continues ...
As Mei finished her story, I just sat quietly looking at the
four of them altogether. They were quite proud of that story. Eve and Eight had
become a shade darker in the sun even for the short time we had spent together,
even after the sun had moved to an oblique position in the late afternoon.
Their African ancestry as dilute as six to seven generations back then was now
very apparent to me in their limbs, their faces, their lips that tended to the
fleshiness of both Asian and African people and toward the color purple, and in
the texture of their hair. I think Bao would very much see his children in
these four beautiful women.
I asked myself whether if I took them to Los Angeles, New
York, or St. Louis, would anybody call them “nigger” behind their backs? Would
cops get them out of a car on a traffic stop and make them sit on the curb? I
decided probably yes—especially Na; especially if they were with boyfriends who
looked similar to them.
I also thought about how Na was given the least honorable,
smelliest, most dirty of jobs on The Island. Sure she had a title “Princess,”
but what did that mean there? Mei was the designated metal worker. I mean, they
were all farmers, and their culture seemed to embrace the exaltation of the
farmer over the artisan and the tanner just as the medieval Europeans, and the pre-industrial Asians, and more recently
the Communists have always done. I mean, if Dog Island had its “niggers,” Na
and Eve were certainly good candidates.
“Bao had quite a life,” I said.
“You’ve been to The Shrine, yes?” asked
Mei.
“Yes, I have.”
“It’s quite an intricate place, isn’t it?”
“Architecturally? Yes. It integrates both
foursquare and pentagonal floor plans quite pleasingly. The pegged joinery in
the exposed beams is quite sophisticated. The whole place is a resonating echo
chamber.”
“Grandfather Bao designed and built it. It’s
been added to since, but it’s essentially his structure. Look for his named
carved in a couple of the main supporting beams next time you’re there.”
“So your fathers were in his line of
descent then?”
“Yes,” said Na. “Our fathers were twin
brothers in the direct patrilineal line of Grandfather Bao.”
“He was not only former slave to settle
here,” said Mei, “nor the only African. Also many women, were abandoned here
after their slavers tired of them. The part of the story about our being a
refuge island is certainly true.”
“Did your fathers know Feng’s father?”
“Everybody knew everybody. It’s a small
place. But it was slightly bigger then. The last surge took away so much.”
“We called him Uncle Liu,” said Na. “Why
do you ask?”
“Feng mentioned him in passing once. I
just wondered what their relationship was like, among the men here within that
generation.”
“We felt so sorry for him,” Na continued.
“He was a little guy compared to our fathers, who were both big, muscular men.
He felt overwhelmed by them. Physical strength and stamina are great indicators
of face for men on this island. He busied himself with words and math to try to
compensate for his shortcomings. His skin also burned red when he stayed in the
sun too long. I think all of the uncles nicknamed him The Crab since he had to
be inside a shell all of the time.”
“Uncle Liu was our nation’s foreign
affairs minister though,” said Mei. “He did what he could to make sure none of
our several protectorates ever took advantage of us. So he did find a valuable
purpose to serve.”
“Are any of them still around?
Expatriate, I mean.”
“Sadly no,” said Mei. “Our fathers never
returned from an ocean expedition. That was when we were teenagers. We think
one of these sudden squalls came up and just took that entire party away.
Feng’s father was lost in The Great Surge.”
“Sounds tragic.” In retrospect, those
words came out of my mouth in a blasé, perfunctory way and I realize that was a
mistake now.
Mei said, “All of you head over to the
practice field. I’ll be right behind you. I need to talk to the Professor for a
minute.”
“You’re not going to take ‘no’ for an
answer are you?” said Na.
“Leave it to me.” She watched as they
moved out sight before turning her attention back to me. “Clete, I know what
you are doing and I want you to stop.”
“What am I doing?”
“You are assessing me. And all of us. Na,
Ba, Yi. AND … I don’t like it.”
“I am not assessing you.”
Without warning she grabbed me by the balls in her right
hand. JESUS CHRIST! Another psycho bitch.
“I think you’re lying. I’ll tell you what
is on my mind. May I do that?”
“It’s a free country here isn’t it? At
least according to your history lesson there.” I think was grunting as I got
those words out. “Do you mind letting go? That kinda hurts.” She ignored me.
“Clete? So glad you agree we are a free
nation. Let me assure you. We all are smart here. We all have big vocabularies
that have all kinds of unpleasant words about all kinds of concepts in the many
languages we know. We want no pity, no condescension, and no patronizing
attitudes, because we know how the world works. We know, because all the
world’s crap and detritus have passed through here and landed on our tiny
little shores and informed us for centuries.”
“Did I ever say you didn’t know anything?”
“Just making sure. Na likes you for some
reason. Isn’t that right?”
“Can’t imagine what for,” I squeaked out.
“The trouble is, I kind of like you too,
but I don’t know why. And it irritates me.”
“I’m not surprised. Most people think I’m
an asshole, and those are my friends.”
“Na—she’s my most important person in the
world. I like to make sure any of her new friends are good people.”
“Did we not play Capture Treasure
together? I thought we had a good ole’ time.”
“I admit,
it was a great was a start, and I sense things are progressing. So, tell me
what body part of mine you were fixating on right now? Get it wrong and I will
squeeze.”
“MAN, you’ve got a strong grip there,
young lady.”
“Occupational benefit of a metal worker.”
“Frankly, I was zeroing in on the crow’s
feet wrinkles around your eyes. And the tiny, convex, dark moles that are all
peppered about your eyes and upper cheeks.”
“Oooooo. Damn you! Why that?”
“You remind me of my late mother that
way.”
“I don’t what to make of you, Clete Wong.
I think I’m figuring you out, and then you say things like that. I’m perplexed.”
“Join the club.”
With that answer, she squeezed until I howled and then let
go, letting me double over and writhe for a bit. There was another time I felt
this bad between the legs. We were in the softball rotation in PE back in 10th
grade. I ran from my place in left field to catch a batted ball, but I
misjudged and the rocket of a ball slammed me right in the nuts. Coach Brown
rolled me on my back and had me push my calves against his hands. I found
myself asking God why he put so many sensitive nerves in a guy’s crotch. It was
a bad design. The Divine Watchmaker really screwed up there.
“Sorry Clete,” Mei apologized, “You OK? That
was supposed to be just a ‘love squeeze.’ I don’t know my own strength
sometimes. I do remember our old learned Dr. Sun, bless his depraved, enlarged
heart, saying that a man should squeeze his own testicles 99 times each night
to keep them in good working order.”
I eventually unfolded myself. I could not stand up yet, so I
stayed on the ground looking up at Mei.
“Your Dr. Sun sounds like a true ‘self-help’
guru if ever I heard one. Are we done? You made your point. You guys can
affectionately call yourselves ‘the N word’ all you want. Don’t say I didn’t
warn you when you throw that around in America. On the topic of American etiquette
lessons, that move you made would be considered rude in the U.S. by just about
any … man.”
Mei gave me a quizzical look, she looked like she decided
she liked me again. She plopped herself down on the ground next to me. I quickly moved away. She just moved herself
next to me again. Again, I moved. She moved. I moved. She moved.
“Get AWAY from me. I don’t like you
anymore.”
“I said ‘sorry.’ I did that because I was
told it was the only way to get your full attention.”
“WHO told you that?”
“Now I’m not going to say. But she did
say, ‘Ya gotta grab him by the balls and squeeze to get him to listen.’”
“I said that in my cram school class about
myself, joking mind you.”
“It worked.”
“Ms. Learned Language Expert, did it occur
to you that that just might be a figure of speech? An American idiom?”
“You’re the first American on these
shores. We’re all learning. Eee hee hee!”
“How can you shift back to being so
cheerful and jolly? If you detected any precancerous lumps in your palpitations,
please tell me. I haven’t checked in years.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“AND I want you to know I detest strict
constructionalists and literalists of all stripes, so if you’re ever nominated
to the Supreme Court I will oppose you with all that is within me.”
“You are definitely the oddest man I’ve
ever met, Dr. Sun included.”
“G’bye Mei,” I said standing up now that
the pain of being squeezed had finally subsided. “Don’t you have dance
practice? They’re waiting for you. And I can’t wait for you to leave. And if
you’re not, I’m leaving.”
“OH! So glad you reminded me. That’s
actually the reason I am here. Ting Ting asked us to invite you participate in
our festival.”
“You gonna be in it?”
“Yep. Of course.”
“Then no.”
“Aww. Don’t be mean, and don’t be a baby.”
“I don’t like playing with girls who think
they can crack my nuts whenever they feel like it! OK? SHIT. In my country, I
could sue you for assault.”
“Hey mister. You had an attitude. A girl
has her pride after all. Admit it. You were casting judgment.”
“OK, maybe a little.”
“I promise, I won’t do it again. Can we
move on? I never stay mad at anyone.”
“I’M THE ONE who should be mad. Sheesh! Just
tell me to shut up when I"m outta line.”
“So, you’ll join us then?”
“That’s Thursday right? I’ll take a
raincheck. I’m really behind on my work. Three whole days.”
“And whose fault is that?”
“Mei! NO.”
“It will be fun! It’s a dance!”
“A dance? You got at live band or a DJ?”
“HA! You think I don’t know what that is, but I got the 4-1-1 Playboy!”
“Ain’t
got nuthin’ on me girl.”
“You celebrate Seven-Seven back at home right?”
“No I don’t. I’m American, remember? We
celebrate Seven-FOUR, SOLAR.”
“Then you HAVE to participate. We perform this
dance every year that re-enacts the story behind the holiday. At rehearsal
yesterday, Ting Ting said, ‘You know this is the first time in years that we
have a male available to play the part of the cowherd. Why don’t you ask Clete
if he would join us?’ There were a couple of us who thought it was a bad idea,
but most of us agreed. So how about it?”
“If I were sent to ask a favor out of
someone, I would not molest them first.”
“I’m … impulsive all right?”
“The answer is N-O. NO!”
“You keep complaining you want to learn
something about us and then we never tell you anything. Find out why we are the
way we are. This is a chance.”
DAMMIT! She had me there.
“You just do this for yourselves right?
Nobody watches?”
“That’s right.”
“Sure, I’m game to try. Kinda like karaoke
but with your body.”
“You’ll have to wear a costume.”
“Something demeaning like a fundoshi I’m
sure. Is it like a Chinese opera kind of thing where he sleeves are too long
for your hands to stick out? And you gotta hobble around on platform shoes that
look they were made by a Dutch cobbler who dropped acid?”
“The costumes are more Khmer.”
“Khmer? That’s like a dozen kingdoms away!
Why?”
“Despite the Chinese origin of the story,
and the festival itself, the choreographer was a Madame Dr. Jorani who was a
contemporary of my grandmother. Madame Jorani came from Cambodia where she had
been a court dancer and an instructor in the classical style. We were told she
and her husband Dr. Sun, a philosopher and scholar of ethnic Chinese origin had
been expelled from the country for being progressive free thinkers and they
sought political asylum. Once here, Madame Jorani became quite fascinated with
the story of the weaver girl and cowherd and decided to create a narrative
dance for the occasion. She performed it herself but when we got to a certain
age she rearranged it for us as a group dance that the Royal Family could give
back to the people of The Island.”
“A Chinese folk story actuated in an
Cambodian art form. This sounds like something somebody would dream up in L.A.,
but it would be performed by Jews in yellow face. Why not make the costumes
something like out of the Tang Dynasty?”
“Clete, remember? We’re Manchurian
royalty. What do you think it would mean to us to dress up like ancient Han?
Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Beats the living hell out of me. Is
Cambodian any better than Han? Are you REALLY that snooty? It’s been over a
century since your dynasty was deposed! Goddamn! AND, isn’t Southeast Asian
dance all-female anyway? Just like Shakespeare used to be all-guys?”
“Dr. Jorani liked nothing better than to
break conventions. I remind you there was a reason she was run out of her country.”
“Why haven’t you gotten Rex to do this
duty?”
“Old Rex? Are you serious? Plus the
protectorate always removes their personnel during the typhoon season.”
“It’s your fault if my research paper is
incomplete thanks to this interruption.”
© Copyright 2012 by Vincent Way, all rights reserved.
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Be truthful and frank, but be polite. If you use excessive profanity, I'll assume you have some kind of character flaw like Dr. Wong. Tks!