I stand, a trespasser in his camp, hearing echoes-Chink, gook, Jap, Charlie, GO HOME, SLANT-EYES! - words that, I believe, must have razored my sister Chi down dark alleys, hounded her in the cold after she had fled home, a sixteen-year-old runaway, an illegal alien without her green card. He turns his back to me and heaves into the cactus forest. He grunts, a sound deep from his diaphragm.
He looks the question at me again, and, by a darkness on his face, I know I owe him.Ī flinch in the corner of his eye. So I reply, "We nips all look alike."īut it isn't enough. The blond giant holds me with his green eyes, making me feel small, crooked. It no doubt resonates truer in his voice. I chuckle, painfully aware that "I'm an American" carries little weight with him. Something about him makes me dance around the truth. This time, I turn the question: "Where do you think?" No, sir, can't speak any language but good old American English. Sometimes, my prepared invention slips out before I realize it: I'm Japanese-Korean-Chinese-mixed-race Asian. I hide my distaste because it is un-American. I have always hated this question and resent him for asking. They grinned - Si, si, Senor - and grilled me a slab of beef. But I'm American, Vietnamese American, I shouted at them. A crew of Mexican ranchers said they liked me because I was a bueno hermano-good brother-a Vietnamito, and my little Vietnam had golpea big America back in '75. All the extras, they confided, were because I wasn't a gringo. Taking money from a poor and crazy man brings bad luck.
You are in the desert going nowhere, so you are crazy. Senor, they explained in the patient tone reserved for those convalescing, you are riding a bicycle, so you are poor. Every place gave me nourishment men and women plucked grapefruits and tangerines from their family gardens, bagged food from their pantries, and accepted not one peso in return. When I was hungry or thirsty, I stopped at ranches and farms and begged the owners for water from their wells and tried to buy tortillas, eggs, goat cheese, and fruit. I had been pedaling and pushing through the forlorn land, roaming the foreign coast on disused roads and dirt tracks. "How you got here on that bike is amazing." He smiles, suddenly very charismatic, and shakes his head of long matty blond hair.
0 kommentar(er)
