Читать книгу Not Out of Hate - Ma Ma Lay - Страница 15

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Way Way looked out the window, hidden from view except for her head. She saw Maung Mya, the Burmese servant, standing near a table. He had a red silk gaung-baung⁷ wrapped over his Western-style haircut, with one end sticking up jauntily a few inches. He wore a stiff-collared shirt with a spotless white cotton jacket over it. Around his waist was a washed dark blue silk longyi, a kind of Burmese sarong, worn short.⁸ Over one shoulder was a white napkin. Maung Mya’s jacket was fastened with buttons so as not to get in his way while he worked. He stood straight, chest out, legs together, and hands behind him. A gleaming white cloth covered the table, with napkins folded to resemble water lily buds, starched and white like Maung Mya’s jacket.

Way Way looked at the white china teapot, the polished silver cream and sugar bowls, the biscuit tin of crackers imported from England, the jam jar and butter dish, the bananas, eggs and bread. She noted them all, item by item. This morning Way Way had awakened, gone downstairs for a bath, talked with her aunt about U Saw Han’s arrival, and had forgotten to eat her breakfast. Looking at the meal on the neighbor’s table, she started to feel hungry. The food reminded her of the sweets that people offered to monks on special occasions.

In Way Way’s household people did not use a table and chairs but sat on the floor on finely woven mats placed around a low, round table in the kitchen. Maung Mya’s straight stance near the nicely appointed table with chairs in the house next door seemed to enhance its elegance. A silver gong mounted on two elephant tusks on a sideboard made Way Way surmise that the sound she had heard earlier was to announce the meal.

The sound of boots was heard from the upstairs of the house. Way Way started and quickly withdrew her head from the window. She stood, shoulders flat against the wall. Footsteps—now clear, now faint—came down the stairs. Her heart started beating rapidly. Not daring to look out, she concentrated on listening to the sounds. Only when she heard the footsteps stop, a chair being drawn up, and then silence, did she dare peer out again. She could see the back and shoulders of U San Han, who was dark complexioned and well built. His hair was cut short, European style, and he wore a white long-sleeved shirt and khaki shorts. He was sitting up straight in his chair and pouring himself some tea.

As U San Han had his back to her, Way Way could observe him well. She was glad he was not facing her, for now she could study him to her heart’s content. He ate his meal in silence. Standing motionless near the table was the waiting Maung Mya. She noticed that U Saw Han did not speak one word to him all during the meal. Having finished one cup of tea, U Saw Han poured himself another. As she watched him leisurely enjoying his meal, her own hunger seemed to be appeased.

Her initial reaction to the sight of Maung Mya, a Burmese, dressed as a butler and employed by U Saw Han, also a Burmese, made Way Way think, My goodness, U Saw Han certainly is Westernized! She recalled having seen men in red gaung-baungs in Rangoon who had been pointed out to her by her father as chauffeurs hired to drive Europeans’ cars. Now that she observed Maung Mya’s subservient mein and his red gaung-baung, she could only think of his master, U Saw Han, as European and not Burmese.

Having finished his meal, U Saw Han stood up from the table and started talking to Maung Mya, who had suddenly come to life from his statue-like position and was humbly listening to his master, nodding his head in acquiescence. U Saw Han’s form then disappeared from view as he went into another part of the house, and Way Way returned from her aunt’s room to her own.

Everything she had seen this morning had been so different from anything she was accustomed to that she realized that indeed there were two cultures involved, two cultures very different from each other. Way Way looked around her bedroom, and everything that met her eye seemed old and shabby. She felt she would like to live in the manner of the other house, which was worlds apart from her present surroundings. She suddenly felt insecure and full of self-doubt. Feeling awkward and ill at ease, Way Way walked over and stood in front of her dressing table. She had not done a thing since coming back upstairs from her morning bath, and began to worry that her aunt would notice and start scolding. She used a little water to thin her thanaka paste, a fragrant cosmetic made of freshly stone-ground sandalwood, before putting it on her face. Lifting her bangs from her forehead, she stared at herself in the mirror. The face she saw was young, fresh, and innocent, with clear eyes, a nice nose in profile, smiling lips, and a little beauty mark on her right cheek. She possessed a natural dignity and grace. Only when she saw her reflection in the mirror did she feel reassured and like herself again.

She rubbed a thin coating of thanaka paste on her face and pressed some pink Pompeii powder over it with a toba, a type of powder puff made from a piece of old soft fabric, a toiletry item favored by many traditional ladies. Way Way’s toilet was finished very quickly. She did not need much makeup and knew that she looked all right with just a little face powder. With a small brush she brushed her eyebrows, which were prominently but naturally etched on her face, starting out thick and tapering off into a thin line at the ends. After combing and oiling her hair, she tied it with a black satin ribbon; gathering all the short strands as well, she wound it into a knot around a comb at the back of her head. She chose a pretty pink printed voile blouse with wide sleeves and a short bodice, a style that was very much in vogue. She picked a red Inle longyi in preference to a Chinese satin one because it did not have to be tucked in and showed the traditional black waistband, which was very stylish to display. She looked into the full-length mirror on the wardrobe door and examined herself from various angles, turning this way and that. She took a roll of red crepe paper from the dresser drawer, tore off a small piece, wet it with her tongue, and rubbed it on her lips. Then Way Way went downstairs.

Her father, U Po Thein, was seated in the cane armchair, his legs crossed lotus fashion, with the betel box on his lap, chewing a wad of betel and talking to some farmers. On the wooden settle near the marble-topped table sat two farmers, U Tha Kyu and the Indian Gaw Naw, neighbors who grew rice in adjoining fields. U Tha Kyu suffered from leukoderma, and his face and arms were covered with white patches. He always wore his “town” clothes: a dark serge jacket and a pink gaung-baung.

When she saw U Tha Kyu, Way Way smilingly greeted him and asked across the room, “Did you bring any mohn-san⁹ with you?”

“Oh yes indeed,” he replied in his polite country way, “and the missus sent some special fishballs and ngapi¹⁰ as well.”

Way Way was glad to hear that he had brought mohn-san. It was a family custom, when once a year this special treat came from the farmers, to mix it with a lot of sugar and coconut and share it with the neighbors. Going to the green, felt-covered office table, she sat down and opened the account books. The Indian, Gaw Naw, came up to her and asked her to total his accounts, reminding her to subtract from his wages the amount he borrowed in seed money during the rains. Way Way took a leather-bound ledger, looked for Gaw Naw’s account, and started calculating.

“Judging from the prices this year, it doesn’t look like the market will be too good … Steele Brother’s and Arakan¹¹ have really kept the prices low …,” U Po Thein, his mouth full of betel, called across to U Tha Kyu.

“The babu¹² who owns the Chotari rice mill says that the wholesale price of paddy will be about a hundred and eighty,” said U Tha Kyu. “I am thinking of selling the paddy I have left over at the going price, after paying for the seed rice and keeping aside the portion we will consume this year. I want to shinpyu¹³ my son, Ngatauk, this February. What will be the yield of the field?”

“Pretty good, I think,” U Po Thein replied to the younger man. Of all his tenant farmers, U Tha Kyu had the longest connection with him and was held in the highest regard. He was a farmer who lived by the sweat of his brow. At the time of World War I he had once worked a hundred acres of land and produced up to ten tons of rice a year. Then he was able to grow all the rice he could consume, and had all the bullocks and buffaloes he needed to till the ground. Later he fell on bad times, incurring debts and being forced to sell his animals. Consequently he could now only work fifty acres of paddy land.

“Take off half of what Gaw Naw owes us as payment for constructing the threshing floor, daughter,” said U Po Thein.

Way Way had so much work that she sometimes had no time for meals. Being the daughter of a good rice broker, she had learned all the ways money was used to produce profit in the paddy business. She knew all about the different strains of rice and measurement by the basketful, by weight, and by yardstick. She kept separate books for paddy transplanting and harvesting, for income and expenditure. In addition, she kept account of the weight of the gold pieces given by tenant farmers as security against money they borrowed. She was knowledgeable and efficient in dealing with the various business transactions in which landowners had to engage.

U Kya Ngan, the Chinese rice broker, came into the house. U Po Thein stood up, left his cane armchair, and came to sit at the table. They started off talking about Bullock Brothers opening up the rice center and then went on to discuss the rise and fall of paddy prices.

Way Way was so engrossed in Gaw Naw’s and U Tha Kyu’s accounts that she did not notice another arrival at the door.

Starting up from his seat, U Po Thein welcomed the newcomer in a fluster. “Come on in, come on in,” he cried. “Did you get any sleep at all last night?” Only when Way Way heard him say this did she raise her head from the account books and look up. U Saw Han had come, with two companions behind him. Remaining at the door was a watchman dressed in a dhoti and a long white turban wound around his head, the end of the turban falling behind him over his shoulders and halfway down his thighs. Accompanying him inside the door was a young man with a light complexion and gold teeth.

U Saw Han, who had been walking along with both hands in the pockets of his khaki shorts, took them out as he entered the house and, removing his pith helmet, glanced in Way Way’s direction before replying to her father. Way Way caught his calm, steady smile and blushed furiously, feeling suddenly vulnerable and defenseless.

“I did get some sleep,” he proceeded to say to U Po Thein. “This,” presenting the young man with gold teeth, “is my secretary. We’ve already found a building near the bazaar for our office.”

Although U Po Thein had risen from his seat and pulled out a chair for him to sit on, U Saw Han continued standing with his pith helmet in his hands as he spoke. U Po Thein’s face smiled pleasantly and nodded at U Saw Han’s secretary.

Then U Po Thein said, “This is U Kya Ngan, a paddy broker,” introducing the Chinese broker, who had been leaning on the handle of his curved walking stick and staring at the newcomer.

He was so happy to be introduced that he stood up and said in Burmese (with a Chinese accent), “Pleased to meet you, sir.¹⁴ Please let us know if we can help you in any way.”

U Saw Han looked at the smiling, eager face of the Chinese man and said sedately, “Thank you very much.” Way Way saw Gaw Naw and U Than Kyu, the two tenant farmers, gaping at U Saw Han and began to criticize them in her mind, thinking them very uncouth. She was ashamed and embarrassed at what U Saw Han would think of their sitting room. Glancing at the table, she saw the white enamel tray holding a teapot with a broken spout and cups set out for the plain green tea traditionally offered to visitors to a Burmese household. Her heart turned over for fear he might notice.

U Po Thein was saying, “There’s no need to feel embarrassed about anything. The house we arranged for you isn’t very nice, and we feel badly about it. We’ll call a carpenter to mend the gate. If you need anything, please let me know.”

U Saw Han appeared rather forbidding, but he spoke politely. “Thank you. I apologize for bothering you with finding me a house. If there is anything you want to see me about, please feel free to come to my office. The hours are from 8:00 a.m. to 12:00 noon and 3:00 to 5:00 A.M.”

Way Way could hardly believe her ears, listening to him say this in abrupt and halting Burmese. She thought, Here we are living next door to each other, and the man says to come and see him in his office! What incredible formality!

U Po Thein had realized from the start, when U Saw Han refused to sit in the chair he was offered, that he was not reacting as a Burmese would in a situation set up for natural conviviality. He was deliberately keeping aloof, not wanting to mix.

“Well then, … I will take my leave now,” said U Saw Han. Way Way did not look up. She could not raise her head. Her heart fluttered madly until the sound of his footsteps died away. In her mind she could still see U Saw Han’s reserved face, in contrast to the circle of smiling friendly faces. He was quite good-looking, with a wide forehead, shapely nose, and an air of distinction about him.

“The man seems quiet and poised and very dignified in his ways, U Kya Ngan,” remarked U Po Thein, “but very English. Seems he went to work with the company after finishing his degree not too long ago.”

U Kya Ngan, pouring himself some tea, gave his opinion, “Not bad. Seems nice enough. Quite good-natured.”

Daw Thet entered from the back room. “What in the world? Has he gone already? I just saw him a minute ago and went back to order some coffee. Oh dear, you didn’t urge him to stay.” Scolding and talking in this fashion, she turned to Meh Aye, the servant girl, and said, “Well then, girl, give the coffee to the Chinese gentleman.”

Seeing the black lacquer tray on which sat coffee cups with coffee spilled into the saucers, Way Way thought, It’s just as well they were brought in only after he left.

7. Traditional turban-like headgear worn by men.

8. The length of the longyi, and the fact that it was not brand-new, indicates the wearer’s servant status.

9. A dessert made from a special kind of rice.

10. A pungent, anchovy-like fish paste used widely in Burmese cooking and also served as an accompaniment to rice and raw or cooked vegetables.

11. Names of large British trading firms.

12. A polite term referring to Indians, also used as a form of address.

13. The ceremony initiating a young boy into the Buddhist monkhood. It is always celebrated as lavishly as the family’s means permit.

14. The speaker uses bogyi, a term of address referring to Englishmen.