Pag 36
A HARD DISH TO SWALLOW
Meals back on the Peak were simple: rice, some pickled
vegetables, and a fried fish, or maybe some stewed meat. The food at the academy
was about the same, only there was more of it—enough for a mob of young
students and whatever teachers were working with Master that day. It wasn’t as
tasty as my Dad’s food—he was probably one of the best cooks in Hong Kong at
the time—but it was filing, and in my seat at Master’s side, I got my pick of
all the dishes before they were passed down the line. The seating order at
mealtimes was always set according to seniority, that is, the boys and girls
who’d been at the academy longest were at the end next to Master, the master’s
wife, and the teachers, with the youngest, smallest kids at the far end of the
long table. I guess it was matter of respect, but it meant that little kids got
almost nothing: by the time the food had been through the eager hands of a
couple dozen young boys and girls, there were just scraps and sauce remaining.
Even though I was the newest student, I was treated
like an honored guest; I ate even before Biggest Brother and the older boys
like Yuen Lung and Yuen Tai. I assumed it was because Master had taken a liking
to me, and why would I question the special honor? It meant more food for me.
After a few days of being treated like a prince, though,
it dawned on me that the kids who used to be my friends were talking to me less
and less. They didn’t terrorize me the way Yuen Lung and Yuen Tai did, but they
avoided me. In the morning, while all the other students were roused for their
early workouts, I slept late. As they did painful stretching exercises and practiced
kung fu and acrobatics until the edge of collapse, I played alone, imagining
myself to be the great General Kwan Kung or the Monkey King or some other brave
and ancient hero. Sometimes, I even joined in on the exercises, practicing handstands
and stretches with the other kids—but only for a few minutes, before bursting
out in laughter or becoming distracted.
Between my own snacking and the demands of Yuen Lung
and the older boys, the bag of treats my mom had left for me disappeared
quickly. I tried saving a few special things, like chocolates and cans of
orange
Pag 37
juice, as bribes to win the friendship of some of the
smaller kids, but they curtly refused my gifts. Then they’d steal the treats
out of my bag when I wasn’t looking.
It didn’t take me long to get the hint. Even though we
slept together at night and sat together at mealtimes, my special status meant
I was doomed to be alone. I guess I could have complained and asked to be
treated the same way everyone else was, but that would have meant lots more
work and lots less food, and frankly, I was happy just to be left to do as I
pleased.
Little did I know how short this blissful period would
last.
On the sixth day of my stay at the academy, I found
myself in the kitchen examining the very last of my mom’s treats—a bag of
walnuts, still in their shells. I’d never had a walnut before, so I wasn’t sure
what they tasted like, and besides, getting the nutmeat out of the shell seemed
as if it would be a real pain. This was why, out of all the nice things I’d had,
the nuts remained--unstolen and uneaten.
Well, I’d missed breakfast again, and the needs of my
stomach had finally overcome my basic laziness. I had no choice but to try to
crack the nuts.
Master never left out anything that we could use to
hurt ourselves (or one another); there wasn’t a mallet or a knife or even a
heavy pot in sight. Squeezing the nuts in my hands just left painful bruises on
my palms, and I didn’t want to risk my teeth on the rock-hard shells.
Out of frustration, I began hammering the nuts against
the counter, until the bag ripped and the walnuts sprayed out and around the
kitchen. Yelping, I began gathering up my last treasured snacks, only to
realize that one of the nuts had rolled completely under the refrigerator and
was now resting in the dusty crevice between the refrigerator and the wall.
I was a plump kid, but still small enough to reach
behind the fridge, and I stuck one arm into the depths of the crack, stretching
my hand as far as it would go into the dark, dirty space. After a few minutes
of scrabbling, I felt a tightness around my waist. Someone had grabbed hold of my
pants, and was pulling me back out into the light.
It was the master, and with him were Biggest Brother,
Yuen Lung, and Yuen Tai, the last wearing an evil grin.
“See, Master?” said Yuen Tai. “I told you, he was
playing around with the electric socket.”
“No, I wasn’t, I was just trying to reach my nuts!” I
shouted.
Yuen Lung sniggered. “You shoulda kept your hands in
your pockets, new boy.”
Biggest Brother Yen Ting watched the situation with a
weary face, as if he’d seen this scene time and again. Master pushed me out of
the kitchen and into the practice hall. I was terrified. I’d never seen kindly
Pag 38
Old Master looking the way he looked just then. His
face was angry and cold, and I had a sudden flashback to my father’s
expression, just before he was about to punish me. Hard.
“Kong-sang, you are fond of snacks, are you?” Master
asked. I nodded, then shook my head, not knowing which reaction would save me.
Probably neither.
“I think it is time for some jiajiang mein,” he said, gesturing to Yuen Ting.
Jiajiang
mein is a spicy noodle dish with meat and served cold. The
look on Yuen Ting’s face as he passed he passed suggested that he was not headed
for the kitchen.
The other kids gathered in a wide circle around us,
grinning as if they were aware of what was about to come next. Finally, Yuen
Ting returned with a thin, supple rattan cane.
Master pushed me down to the ground and told me to lie
flat on my belly. I felt my pants being roughly drawn down to my knees, as my
belly and thighs collapsed on the polished wooden floor. Then a whistle and a
crack, a sound that I registered in my brain just a flash before the pain raged
from my buttocks up my spine.
I screamed.
The taut, bone-hard smack of the cane more agonizing
than my father’s bare palm or even his wide leather belt—the worst I’d ever
felt against my skin before. And each rip of the cane, each jolt of torment was
followed by another, in steady, staccato rhythm, until my throat was hoarse and
my buttocks almost numb.
Six strokes, delivered with all of my master’s force.
Six raised and bleeding welts across my tender skin.
I began to cry, shouting my mother and father to take
me away. I wanted to go home—I wanted to go anywhere rather than stay in this place,
which had gone from paradise to hell in one hot instant.
“Be quiet,” thundered my mater, perspiring from the
workout of my beating. “Unless you want a second helping!”
I shut up. I saw out of the corners of my tear-filled
eyes that Yuen Lung and Yuen Tai were laughing at me, mimicking the faces I’d
made during my beating. I saw that Yuen Ting and the older girls had flat, expressionless
faces, betraying neither glee nor sympathy. I saw smiles on most of the younger
girls, but they were smiles that simply stated a fact: We were there too. Now it’s your turn. Welcome to the club.
Master gestured a dismissal with his cane and walked
out, allowing the rest of the kids to cut short their practice and escape to
private things. Yuen Lung and Yuen Tai walked away together, discussing the
best ways of cracking and eating my walnuts. Yuen Ting moved toward me as if to
help me up, but then turned and silently left the room.
Pag. 39
I lay alone on my belly for what seemed like hours.
Everything was over. I knew it now. The special treatment,
the easy living, the freedom. The kindliness of the master had been a sham, and
my loneliness was now complete. Even with my uncertain sense of time, I knew
that I’d told my parents I wanted to stay for a very long time, longer even
than I’d been alive.
But I didn’t want to live anymore. Not if my days were
going to be like this. Not with the fear of more pain, and even worse, this
feeling of hollow aloneness in my heart.
Then I felt a hand on my back. One of the boys had returned
the one who’d many weeks ago shown me how to do a backflip and nearly bought himself
a dish of jiajiang mien from Big
Brother. He had a towel in his hand, dripping with cold water from the shower.
“It’ll be easier if you put this on your butt,” he
said. “I know.”
I managed a smile, and took the towel from his hand.
That night, I slept on my stomach, but I was no longer
exiled in my own corner of the hall. The space between me and the other
students was now filled with young bodies, marking me, at last, as part of the
family.
The next morning, Master brought me in the front of
the hall and officially introduced me to the other students.
“This is our newest student,” Master said in a solemn
voice. “He came to us as Chan Kong-sang, but now that he is part of our family,
he must take a new name. Please welcome your brother, Yuen Lo.”
The students came up as a group and surrounded me, some
squeezing my shoulders, some patting me on the head and back, others taking my
hands in theirs. They welcome me. I was one of them.
And you know what?
When other new boys and girls came to the academy,
glorying in their temporary specialness, I put a blank expression on my face,
silently waiting for their first helping of spicy noodles. And when their day
came, I grinned along with the rest.
Welcome
to the club.
