The Mountain Girls of China

Yesterday was Chinese New Year. The Year of the Rooster. Poulet masculin. As I was brought up in a household hell bent on assimilation, the new year was always recognised, but rarely met in grande or kitschy Dick Clark fashion. It wasn't until I was an adult when I learned there were customs associated with the day.

Your home should have all traces of last year's dirt removed before the new year begins.
No one is allowed to sweep on the day; by doing so you sweep your money straight out the door.
Firecrackers are set off to scare off evil spirits.
Colourful, parading lion puppets, which require at least 4 humans to manipulate, chase evil spirits away. They dance to a complex eastern rhythm with blinking eyes, something I watch with absolute astonishment and wild delight each and every time.
There is food, food, food enough to sate armies, but is reserved for family and close friends.
This food is supposed to be prepared days in advance. No knives are to be used on the day for fear of cutting off one's luck.
Some people spend an entire week celebrating with loved ones.

This never happened in our home. Nothing that I nor my sister can recollect.

A couple of years ago, my sister and her husband, Jim had adopted a set of twins from China. These 2 girls were found on the steps of a theatre, naked, shrieking in a cardboard box; umbilical cords intact, coated in placenta.

Baron met abandoned.

The process took 6 months, 10 signatures from other successful adoptive parents and approximately $50,000. Plus tips.

They have all the money in the world.
They have very little happiness.
But they can and do throw money at anyone to satisfy their every whim.

Because the population density is the second highest in the world, the Chinese government, this bastardised version of communism, had created a 1 child per household maximum back in 1978. The main difference in culture between the West and East is in the West people may have a secret preference towards a child's sex, but in the end the wish is for a healthy child. There are no restrictions. In China, women don't exist on family trees. On a family tree, only the boys are represented. Girls don't carry on the familial name. They go on to marry and adopt their husband's. In China, all they want is to bear boys. Carry on the tradition. So, what about the girls? What happened to them in the areas where they didn't have the technology to determine sex? What happened when government authorities came knocking on doors carrying census papers demanding to see the bellies of women? Checking every nook and cranny. I'd asked my mother once.

She told me that in rural areas mothers sometimes carry their newborn daughters up to the mountains, leaving them there to be eaten by wild animals. I remember reading in the news that in more industrialised centers, freshly born, healthy girls were dumped into black plastic garbage bags.
Now they are mostly ignored and starved to death.

For these reasons alone, I hated the culture my family wanted me to be proud of.

I went for dim sum with Ack, the ex-husband/ best friend, today. Dim sum is considered afternoon tea to the Chinese. It is a vast selection of tiny dumplings in round bamboo steamers, pan-fried or deep fried tasty savoury morsels often accompanied with individual sauces that include worchestershire, soy, a variety of hot pastes or oils and a red vinegar. I love dim sum. We went to a spot we'd recently discovered in my relative neighbourhood. The food is consistently good and the prices are made more reasonable because of the time we often go, late afternoon, post lunch hour. Quite often dim sum prices are slashed at that hour to attract extra business. For the vast selection, each individual plate or steamer has price points between $1.50 - 4.50. The whole point to dim sum is variety. The less something costs, the more one is apt to try.

I ordered 9 dishes, one of which was Ack's favourite: deep fried chicken wings. The server was unsure how much to charge for these wings so she asked her boss. While we were eating, I didn't pay too much attention. After the server left, I glanced over at the card that received tick marks and additional penned orders and noticed the server had written a series of characters followed by $8.50. I thought, "I hope they're not charging me $8.50 for that plate of wings."

Ack and I were catching up. He'd been out last night with our mutual friend Hines, who incidentally was the fellow who introduced me to Ack. I knew Hines in high school when he was dating my best friend at the time. Hines had met Ack in university where they swapped theories in an art dissection course designed for art-wankers. Mostly they shared more interesting theories (of a sexual nature) over successive pints at pubs located anywhere within stumbling distance. Hines is a 6'6" Muay Thai kickboxer/ personal trainer. Advantage: appendage. The little Thai dudes never stood a chance in the ring with him as he'd implement a patented Three Stooges move. With one hand holding the top of his opponent's head the lanky white boy, with a gorilla's armspan, would keep them cranially at bay while the exhausted opponent windmilled with ferver and futility.

Hines lives and breathes Muay Thai. There was a movie just released from Thailand called Ong Bak: The Thai Warrior. Ack was Hines' movie date last night. The critics are touting the lead as the newest action hero. The movie left Ack with a few different sensations:

Exhileration
An inspired desire to beat the crap out of Hines, but thought better of it.
A life lesson.

The Comrade: Oh? What kind of life lesson?
Ack: How you shouldn't be an asshole.
The Comrade: Oh! And how you should maybe apologise to your ex-wife/ best friend if you were one?
Ack: Yeah... (sigh) sorry.

Ack had made a series of rather unflattering and untrue statements to me over the weekend, which he deeply regretted. Later, after some consideration, he thought it best if I would jump up about 10' in the air, landing a direct and serious blow to the top of his head... with my right elbow. Though I accepted his earnest apology, I tried hard to suppress the delight in the inspiration he garnered from watching this violent martial arts movie. I knew he didn't mean anything he'd said. He often suppresses his anger and shame from the original source. Bottling up is no good because it tends to come out as aggression, redirecting it at an altogether unrelated respite-spring: me. I'm a safer target for his anger and shame. He trusts me. I am reasonable. I will reasonably tell him he is wrong or reasonably ask him to go fuck himself. I told him both. He accepted this charge with grace.

While asking for the dim sum bill to be tallied, I asked the manager what the $8.50 charge was for.
Manager: Chicken wings.
The Comrade: You have dim sum items for $8.50?
Manager: No. Dim sum size $4.50. Large size. $8.50.
The Comrade: But we didn't order the large size.
Manager: Yeah, but you ate it!
The Comrade: We ate it because it was placed on the table.
Manager: See? This is large size. Large size is $8.50. If you don't want it, you should tell lady so she take it back.
The Comrade: But we've never ordered it before! We didn't know what size the plate was. We thought you were being generous!
Manager: No. This is $8.50. Large size.
The Comrade: Yes, I know. But, let me get this straight... I ordered a small plate of wings, but your kitchen made a mistake. We eat this mistake and you're charging us the full price for your mistake?
Manager: This is LARGE SIZE! Look... you ATE plate! You pay!
The Comrade: Lady, we come here every week! I'm not in the business of swindling...
Manager: I know you not giving finger.
The Comrade: You're in the business of hospitality, not hostility! I am NOT paying for something that is not our fault!

After some time and rather loud deliberation, with the uninflated price intact, the bill was paid. I told her I am in the business too.
Manager: No you not!

Shocked, I left a tip and bid her blood-shot eyes and twisted, crimson face with a quiet, Gung Hey Faat Choy; a wish for a happy new year. I opened the entrance door of that establishment for the last time. I felt nothing but utter disgust for the type of greed and unaccountability that is prevalent with my familial heritage.

The Comrade: It's... appalling!
Ack: Yeah... Hey, what's 20 x 52?
The Comrade: Um... (very bad at math)
Ack: 1040, right?
The Comrade: Uh... yeah.
Ack: Say we pay $20 at a time. Because of a difference of $4, she's lost $1,040 in annual sales.
The Comrade: And that's a low estimate.
Ack: Yep.
The Comrade: I'm telling you... Jews have had a bad rap. I know I'm sounding racist here, but no greater body of people are more prone to greed and hoarding than Chinese people. It's fucking appalling.

Last night my brother-in-law Jim had invited me out for dinner with his family. Destination: Dynasty Chinese Restaurant. Dynasty is located in the exact spot of one of my old places of employ, The Bermuda Onion. The architecture has changed slightly, but I could still imagine the circular bar Tyrone and I would practice showmen bartender flourishes behind. The main differences were the food, the decor and the fun level. Zero fun was had last night.

There was a very high waiter to customer ratio. The rationale is sound; more waiters = better service. It's only a theory, though. In practice it creates a numbness in brain activity when too many, especially ineffectual, floor staff are working. With 2 small, slightly bitchy children in tow, I'd noticed no one had delivered our obligatory tea yet, something those who eat in Chinese establishments take for granted.

My sister: Isn't this place nice?
The Comrade: The tablecloths are lavender. Where's the tea?

There are at least 8 humans on staff that are wandering aimlessly around the restaurant. They are distinguished by their very fancy sequined waiter vests, which happen to match the lavender tablecloths.

The Comrade: Good God! Look at those vests!
Eunice: Everything matches.

In high school my sister, 6 years older than I, used to be embarrassed by my mother's lack of good taste and matching sets of dinnerware. She would be embarrassed to go to school with mismatched outfits; fearful of seeming poor. It would make her so angry she would perform bastardised incantations evoking a post famine Scarlett O'Hara, As God as my witness, I shall never grow untasteful again!

Everything my sister had learned about good manners and better taste came from our neighbour Peggy, who lived directly across the street. Peggy kept a fully materialised, torn from the pages of Better Homes and Gardens manor. Charming and tasteful from a visitor's perspective, a veritable psyche ward as a resident. Well as long as everything looks fine from the outside!

Secretly, I suspected she wanted Peggy to be her real mother. I don't think she realised how that made our own mother feel.

Most Chinese restaurants provide a great deal of illumination overhead by way of fluorescent or halogen lighting. Chinese people want to see their food glisten. The company is a consideration afterthought. The food is the lover, not the companion. I also had the sneaking suspicion that the owners really wanted the sparkly sequins in the vests to really stand out. With the vests, you can spot them a mile away.

Jim the brother-in-law: [Motioning to a slack-jawed, sequined waiter] Could we have some tea, please?
Slack-jawed, sequined waiter: [blinks 3 full times] ... Okay.

My sister indicates toward a side plate laid with taro chips. This plate had arrived shortly after they were seated. She places a small section of a chip gingerly between her teeth. Bites.
Sister: You don't get these at those other places. And look at the little saucers under the cups!

She is delighted by an extra plate under each teacup, a feature often overlooked in other Chinese restaurants because it is superfluous. Besides, when you slam down a teacup on a tablecloth, it draws less attention.

Sister: I think this place is really civilised.

She is indirectly commenting on the places my parents choose, or I like to go to. They are in dirty neighbourhoods my sister would never drive her Z3 through, in fear of robbery or rape, with bathrooms you use only in emergency situations. In these places, the food is always plentiful, cheap and delicious.

In the lavender surround...
Sister: I like this place.
The Comrade: [looking at the portion sizes] Yeah, but look how small everything is. And there's nobody in here. The rent must be...
Sister: This whole place will fill up tonight.
The Comrade: You think?
Sister: [whispering] There aren't that many actual Chinese people that come here. And if they do, they're really rich!

See, I look at that as a strike against the place. To me, more Chinese people = better Chinese food.

Jim, my ever thoughtful brother-in-law, has printed out a selection of Chinese horoscopes for his family. He reads aloud to everyone. I am the only one listening, the only one laughing out loud to the amazing accuracy. When he's done he asks how Ack's doing. Addressing Jim...

The Comrade: He hasn't had sex almost as long as you've gone without it.

Volleying my eyes between my sister and her husband, I ask them to:

The Comrade: Discuss?

My sister and her husband have been married for nearly 20 years.

Jim: All I really need is my right hand.

I tell him to lube up with hand cream just in case. Friction causes cracking which may led to an adult circumcision, which may lead to a Mohel who performs with few instruments. All the religious official needs is his mouth.

2 hours have elapsed. The place has not filled up. Singlehandedly, I have eaten close to an entire chicken.

I look at the clientele. They are predominately monied, just like my sister and her family. Some are in the same position they are in: baron meeting abandoned. In most cases, white mothers hold their little adopted Asian girls in their arms, in pretty party dresses, hair in adorable pigtails, as they celebrate a holiday these children have no basis in understanding.

It all seemed so quaint and romantic; they were saving a poor child from abandon, bringing her to the rich West. To help save a dry, passionless, dying marriage. A cute little distraction from the fat, ugly slob that never does nothing around the house. That never does anything for her self esteem. That concerns himself only with the acquistion of goods and wealth. They have a fine address. One of the best, in fact. But does it make them happier? From the outside, yes. Inside, it's a psyche ward. If my sister didn't operate fully within the law, or didn't have a huge issue with control, she would be on a torrent of barbiturates.

My boyfriend has a friend who wants me to set him up with one of my hot Asian girlfriends. I find this remark beyond offensive. I have friends that run the gamut of sexual orientation, race, religion and general belief structure. They work in all fields and they are, in every single case, an actual contribution to society. This friend is not the first person who has requistioned this request. Though having experienced it prior, I am no less appalled by it. It is steeped in ignorance and something that I met with utter distain.

Right now I'm thinking about those girls left in the woods. What if they survived? What if they were cared for by a wild creature who had the capacity to care for a human infant? What if they lived on to hatch a secret society of women? Women who became amazons. What if they started a brand new colony? Maybe they live on in peace. Maybe they started their own family trees, where they were all represented. Maybe all of their votes counted. Maybe there they could develop a new language where they weren't restricted, where they could tap into their innate sense of humanity. Where they could be anything they wanted to be.

A girl can dream, can't she?