by Zen Cho
"Dad was so angry," she said. "He went around talking bad about the festival to everybody at church."
"Even our relatives started avoiding him," said Pik Mun. "I remember Ji Ee Poh pulled me into the kitchen and said, 'Hai, your father, making life very difficult for we all. Ever since he convert to Christianity he become so intolerant. Don't believe in ghosts is one thing, but why talk bad about them some more? That is just asking for trouble.'"
"It's not the Christianity," said Angela. "I think Dad was always a bit like that. From young also."
"Dad is too extreme," said Pik Mun. "He should be more flexible."
"Me also," said Angela.
"Yah," said Pik Mun. "Us also."
Angela's Japanese language class went on a trip to Kyoto. They visited temples and had dinner on the river, in a barge hung with round orange lanterns.
Dinner was extravagant, with the severe delicacy of Japanese food: fish, tofu and vegetables sitting in their separate compartments. There was also nabe in bubbling hot pots distributed along the table.
The other students drank beer. Angela stuck to tea.
Angela ate half her fish and stopped to look out at the river. If you ate slowly your stomach got used to the food and you felt full earlier. It was a good way to avoid overeating.
The river was worth looking at. It had still been light when they'd got on the barge, but night had fallen with tropical swiftness. They weren't the only barge on the river; there were several others, similarly outfitted, and the orange light from the lanterns trembling on the black waters was beautiful. In the distance the mountains were a dark forested mystery.
Were there tengu brooding in those trees? Before she'd been split into two, Angela had known magic was real, but she hadn't thought about it as something that applied to herself. Some people courted that kind of thing — went to bomoh for charms and love potions, studied spells, prayed to the spirits of the earth and air and water.
Angela had never even watched Charmed. Being a doctor seemed a much more concrete way of working miracles.
But now she was only half a person, anything seemed possible. Tengu might come flying out of their mountain fastnesses, the wind from their wings snuffing out the lanterns. River dragons might raise gleaming horse-like heads out of the waters around them. She might discover something new about herself at the august age of 25.
A sigh rose from the other diners. "Ah!"
"What is it?" said Angela to her neighbour.
"The birds are fishing — look!" The neighbour pointed with her chopsticks.
Angela could only see flashes of light in the darkness. The flame of a torch lit the face of an old man, labouring in the bow of a boat on the other side of the river. She couldn't see any birds.
She turned, wanting to ask her neighbour where the birds were and what they were doing, but as she did so she saw Pik Mun out of the corner of her eye.
Pik Mun was in the water, dog-paddling calmly along the side of the boat.
"How long have you been there?" said Angela.
"Long enough," said Pik Mun. "You finish your dinner yet or not? You took half an hour to eat that fish."
There was quite a lot of food left in Angela's lacquer box.
"Yeah, done already," she said. "Nowadays I only eat till 70% full."
Pik Mun was so outraged she missed a stroke. She went down and came up with a mouthful of water, spluttering. "What's this 70%? If you sit for exam and get 70%, that's not even a 1A!"
"70% is a First," said Angela.
"OK. OK. I see how it is," said Pik Mun coldly. "Your standards have gone down. This is called life experience, is it?"
"My standards haven't gone down," said Angela. "They're just different."
"If it was me I would have eaten all," said Pik Mun. "Except the enoki mushrooms —"
"— because they taste funny," Angela agreed.
"At least you remember that," said Pik Mun. "Tired lah."
"I'm not surprised, you've been swimming so long."
"Tired of you lah!" said Pik Mun. "You forgot what it's like to be me, is it? Don't you miss me at all?"
She looked wistful.
"I don't know if I miss you," Angela said. "You're a lot wiser than I actually was at 15. I was pretty stupid as a teenager."
"That's what you think now," said Pik Mun. "You didn't think so then. You should be kinder to yourself."
"I didn't finish yet," Angela chided her. "I said, you're a lot wiser than I was when I was an annoying teenager. So I guess I should listen to you. You want a hand up?"
Pik Mun stopped paddling. For a moment she floated in the water, suspended.
"You sure?" said Pik Mun.
"Yes," said Angela.
"If you take my hand it'll change you," said Pik Mun. "You made me go away for a reason, you know. If I come back you might remember stuff you want to forget."
Angela held out her hand. Pik Mun took it.
As Pik Mun climbed in their hands became one. Her elbows locked into Angela's elbows, her knees into Angela's knees. Angela's hips widened. Her face got rounder. The flesh under her chin pouched out. Her vision blurred.
She blinked, and then she could see clearly again. She was solid, weighted to the deck by her new substantiality.
Pik Mun was more pugnacious than her, not as well-groomed, rougher-edged. Angela with all the unevenness sanded off. But she needed to have a surface that could catch on things. She needed to be capable of friction.
She looked down at the river. The orange light showed Angela her reflection, hazy and dark. Pik Mun smiled back at her from the water.
Somebody touched their arm.
"Are you OK?" said Angela's neighbour. "You almost fell in!"
"I'm OK," said Angela. She smiled at the girl.
The girl blushed.
Angela's stomach growled. She turned back to the table. "Good food, eh?"
"Yeah, really good," said the girl. She looked away, then back, then away again. She was smiling despite her discomfiture, smiling helplessly, almost against her will.
Now that's called charisma, said Pik Mun approvingly inside Angela's head.
Angela ate all of the fish. It was delicious.
Pik Mun had been keeping a secret for Angela.
It was silly to have kicked up so much of a fuss over it. Nobody cared nowadays, did they? OK, so Angela's family would probably care, but that hadn't been the reason why she'd tried to ignore it for ten years.
The reason had been embarrassment.
Picture Pik Mun, 15 years old, not yet Angela, not yet beautiful. She's in love with her best friend and it's leading her down perilous paths. For example, the one that ends in her kissing the best friend, on a hot afternoon after school.
Pik Mun had known immediately that it had been the wrong thing to do.
"Never mind," she said, but Prudence was already talking.
"What's wrong with you?" said Prudence.
"Nothing," said Pik Mun. "It was just a — I don't know. Never mind! Forget about it."
"Do you like me?" said Prudence, in dawning horror. "Do you, like, have a crush on me?"
"No, no, no," said Pik Mun. Each "no" sounded less convinced than the last. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have did that."
"It's like kissing my sister," said Prudence. She had never been a tactful girl.
"You don't even have a sister!"
"Why did you do that?" said Prudence. "Are you ... " she lowered her voice. "Are you a gay?"
Pik Mun's eyes prickled.
"But you were dating that guy," said Prudence. "The prefect. Were you using him to hide the fact you're gay?"
"I'm not gay!" said Pik Mun.
"Then?" said Prudence.
"I liked Kenrick," said Pik Mun. But she'd stopped liking him. She'd started liking Prudence instead. That had been unexpected. "I wasn't faking it. I stopped liking him because he started talking about football all the time. Doesn't mean I never liked him."
"So do
you like girl or boy?" said Prudence.
"I don't know," said Pik Mun. She hesitated. "Both?"
"Where got people like both one?" said Prudence. At that point, her parents' green Kancil had driven into the school car park. Prudence got up.
"Pik Mun, you must figure yourself out," she said. "Think about it and let me know when you decide. Call my home phone if you want to talk. But don't like me, OK?"
"Not like I choose to like you also," said Pik Mun.
"Choose to stop," said Prudence firmly. "I like you very much as friend, but this whole crush thing is a bit weird."
Pik Mun's crush had been smothered by the embarrassment. It went out without a whimper. And she hadn't liked another girl for ten years.
It was a long time to be hiding from yourself, and a stupid reason for doing it. But youth was for doing stupid things in anyway.
And Angela was still young.
It was almost lonely without Pik Mun around. Angela could talk to herself, of course, but it wasn't quite the same.
She called Prudence instead.
"I'm Facebooking my thaumaturge," she said.
"Why?" said Prudence.
Angela hesitated. But ten years was a long time to pretend something wasn't there.
"She's super my type," said Angela. "Got girlfriend already, but girlfriend doesn't mean married, right?"
The line crackled. Angela's chest seized up.
Prudence said, horrified, "Angela! That's so bad! Don't go stealing people's woman!"
"Joking only lah," said Angela.
"If you want, I can introduce people to you," said Prudence. "Girl or boy also can. You specify. But don't go and chase other people's girlfriend. Hmph. After you stay in Japan you become so immoral."
Angela was smiling. "I put on weight also," she said.
"Is it?" said Prudence. "Don't eat so much takoyaki. Eat more seaweed. That one not fattening."
"I think it suits me," said Angela.
"Oh? Then forget about the seaweed lah," said Prudence. "So long as you're OK with yourself. Are you OK with yourself, Pik Mun?"
"Yah, think so," said Angela.
"Good," said Prudence. That pretty much seemed to cover it.
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Elsewhere
The Earth Spirit's Favorite Anecdote
The year was 3288 — the Year of the Qilin. I was born in the Year of the Nian, so I was fifty-three years old. Quite old already, and two eights is auspicious, so that year I left my parents' hole and came to Kuala Ketam.
Our kind can live with their parents their whole lives, from small to big until die, but it doesn't work for everybody's family. I left my parents because they always look Back. Whenever anything new happens, whenever anything changes, they always say: let's go Back, let's go Back. Leave hole to go buy thing also, the whole time they keep thinking: go Back lah, go Back. How to live like that?
I am not the kind of person who likes to go Back. That's why I'm not so religious. I don't have any problem with the gods, but they got price. Everybody got price one. The gods' price is you must promise to go Back in the end. I never like to make promises — after cannot keep, then how? So I left loh. I wanted to go somewhere where I don't have to do the same thing as everybody else, because everybody is doing different-different things.
Kuala Ketam was like that because of the tin mines. Back then when tin was still important, got all kinds of spirits coming in — gods, ghosts, monsters, all the hantu-hantu also got. And there were people like me: earth people, small spirits who just want to make enough money to send home to their parents, and to save to build up their own hole.
In that kind of society, with everybody new and mix up together and still don't know the rules, got chance to make it if you're smart. I saw that straight away. I dug a hole in a prime location — high land overlooking the river, and then I settle down and watch out for something to do.
Of course it wasn't that easy to find. I just come from the kampung, got no experience: who want to hire somebody like that? I was only a small earth spirit some more, no power in myself. But don't think I had nothing to do just because nobody give me a job. Want to set up a hole also have to work like siao. You cannot simply dig a hole where you like — you have to get permission from the forest spirits first. If not they get angry and kick you out, then how?
The forest spirits were the first people at Kuala Ketam, before all the immigrants came. You know what they look like: tall, pointy-pointy ears, their skin grayish-brown like the tree trunk, eyes very big compared to ours. Their faces are harder to describe. Are they good-looking? Depends on who you ask. This kind of thing differs from race to race; different-different people will think their own people only beautiful. It's what you're used to that matters, mah. But even so, most races agree that forest spirits are quite sui kuan. Not bad.
Because they come first, the forest spirits are very possessive of the land, and they are the ones who know the land. So there are rules. Before you dig a hole, you must get your freedom of the land from the local forest spirit. Never think you can own the tree you are living in —only forest spirits can own the trees, because they are the true owner of the land. You are only renter.
The only exception is the rowan tree. The rowan tree got no forest spirit of its own. That's why you must never dig hole near a rowan tree: rowan trees are damn noisy. So many spirits living in the same tree, it's very crowded, and they non-stop fight. “Why your baby so noisy? Why you so smelly? Why your feet pointing the wrong way around?” Everybody shouting like there's no tomorrow. Spirits are like that. They don't know how to serve other people. They don't know how to get along.
But what to do? We're all put on this land together; somehow or other we must learn to put up with each other. That's why you must follow rules, learn to respect other cultures, don't offend the gods if can avoid it. Even if the rules are stupid, even if you're not religious, even if you don't like other people's customs, these things must keep in your heart. Outside must be polite a bit, never mind if you really feel that way or not. That's what we do, we all earth people. That's why we don't get into trouble even though we're not powerful. Even the richest earth spirit knows how to behave, so people don't kacau them. That's how you get through life.
My mother taught me all this, so I knew I must follow the adat. The morning after I finish digging my new hole, I went to look for the forest spirit.
They say deep in the jungle got no undergrowth, because the trees grow very tall and they got a lot of leaves, so the sunlight cannot reach the ground. I don't know if this kind of thing is true or not. Earth spirits don't go deep into the jungle. I walk small way into the trees already I feel nervous.
Because why? Because I know it's not my place. Everybody is like that: the sea spirit must stick to the sea; they live in river also don't like. Their children might get used to it, and for their children the river will become home. But for the sea spirit who is born in the sea, they cannot be comfortable anywhere else. And I was born in the earth.
So in the forest I kept close to myself, kept myself small, show I know I am only a visitor. You don't have to try so hard to look for the forest spirit of your land. The land knows who it belongs to. I just followed the slope of the earth, and it led me to its master.
The forest spirit saw me before I saw it. It was sitting in its tree, very relaxed. Their tree is like some kind of kopitiam to all these forest spirits. They sit there drinking teh tarik all day. Very lazy people.
"Oi, boss," it said. "You going where, boss?"
It jumped down from its tree, landing on its feet. It looked like all forest spirits— tall, pointy ears, big smile. It didn't look male or female. Forest spirits don't have this concept. They say male or female has no meaning. They don't like to follow rules. Like I said, they are very lazy.
We earth people, we all like to have everything clear. I always think the forest spirit's life must be very m
essy if they cannot even decide whether they are boy or girl.
I admit, I was a bit scared. Forest spirits don't know what are boundaries when it comes to people. Land, yes. But people, they don't know where to draw the line.
The forest spirit looked at me, its head first on one side, then on the other side, moving very fast like a bird. It stood very close. Its eyes were strange to me.
"Sorry I come into your area, sir," I said. "I want to set up hole here. Can I have the freedom of the land?"
I bowed. When you bow to the forest spirit, you must put your hands together and bend your head so your forehead touches your finger. If it is a big forest spirit you can bend your back a bit, but only a bit. You must not respect too much. Only bend to your waist when a god is passing by.
"Ah, hole ah," it said, like it was thinking like that. All forest spirits talk like they are singing. "Hole ah hole ah hole. Hole. Where?"
"In the bank of Sungai Udang, near the mangrove tree there," I said.
"Near the river," it said. "The river goddess like you or not?"
I paused. "I don't know."
It held up one finger. "OK, not to worry. This very easy to find out. You slept one night in the hole already, right?"
I thought I knew what it was trying to say. "Yes, sorry, sir. I only finish digging late at night and I didn't want to kacau you—"
It waved its hand impatiently. "All that never mind. I ask you. Are you dead?"
"Hah?"
I hope you will not say 'hah?' to people like that. I only talk like that because I was surprised. When you don't understand something, you must say, "I beg your pardon?" That is the polite way to say in Occi.
"Are you dead?" said the forest spirit. "Did she try to drown you?"
"No!" I said. "I am alive, what. If she drown me I would be dead, right?"
"How I know? Earth can swallow rain. Maybe earth spirit cannot drown." It looked at my face. Then it said,
"Looks like the river likes you. Now only left for me to decide."
It smiled.
There's a saying: never tell a crocodile a joke, never let a forest spirit smile at you. Both things are equally dangerous, because when a crocodile laughs it opens its mouth big-big, and when a forest spirit smiles ….