a non-Cambodian wanted to learn
Cambodian dance
right before I go to sleep
I remember the book
and I read one of the long poems
that tells the story of refugees at the border
tricked by Thai soldiers into crossing
back into Cambodia
bullets chasing them
land mines in front of them
and I think of the Japanese proverb
nanakorobi yaoki
seven times fall down, eight times get up
but for Cambodian refugees
facing land mines
and bullets
starvation and disease
and for tsunami survivors
facing radiation
and typhoons
sunken land and floods
I think it’s more like
hyakukorobi hyakuichioki
a hundred times fall down
a hundred and one times get up
at school the next day
I look for Samnang in the halls
but don’t see him anywhere
at Model UN
Jae-Sun cheers
when I say I’ll probably be staying
the full year
then Monica suggests
we all go skating next weekend
at some rink that has public hours
but I’ve only skated a couple times in my life
at the rink in Yokohama by the Red Brick Warehouse
and I swear I can still feel the bruises
so I just say maybe
Jae-Sun appears at my locker
and walks with me to the bus
talking all about New York
and the conference
and his cousins there
and K-Town where the Korean food
is best and how he’ll take me there
someday
I’m not sure
what that’s supposed to mean
or how I feel
about this attention
on Tuesday at lunch I find Tracy
and tell her my idea
for Dance for Tohoku
and there in the noisy cafeteria
I think she’ll dismiss it
as incompatible with the club
but she listens, then suggests
we move into the courtyard
where it’s quieter
and then she says
well, a full program
takes a long time to prepare
so I don’t know, maybe we could try
to do it by March 11 . . .
and I’m thinking
not till then?
but fortunately I hold my tongue
because next Tracy says
in the meantime
maybe we could do that tanko bushi circle thing
at pep rallies or halftime at basketball games
you know, get people to come onto the court
put a donation into a collection box then join us in the dance
and maybe we could get someone to promise to match
the donations to encourage more people to join in
and I picture that old Kyushu coal-mining dance
with the moves of shoveling, tossing dirt
pushing the coal cart, wiping the sweat
as a feature of this school’s halftime shows
and I think of how people love it at Japanese festivals
how everyone joins in when they hear that song start up
and I laugh
it’s so ludicrous
it’s perfect
halftime tanko bushi
I tell her that
would be amazing
I can’t wait to tell Samnang
but I haven’t seen him around
so I text him to be sure
he’s going to the Newall Center
this week
and he replies maybe not
I text u ok?
but he doesn’t answer
even when I text him
again
and again
that afternoon it looks like it might snow
but Mom is determined to “exercise”
so I walk with her up the street
at a pace so slow
I’m chilled to the bone
in the damp cold
she’s dragging, has no energy
seems spaced-out and low
barely hearing my dance club news
and when we get back to the house
she’s stone-faced and tight-lipped
unenthused about halftime tanko bushi
or a program for the one-year anniversary
and I know she’s just barely
holding herself together
hating that she can’t run
hating that she’s not working
hating that although she’s healing well
she doesn’t feel like her old self
I forget about tanko bushi
help YiaYia make dinner
salad and tuna casserole
scarcely able to swallow my quip
about how I don’t get why on earth
people eat fish from cans
I finally call Samnang
Tuesday night
what’s up? I’ve texted
like, a hundred times I say
then hear
Lok Ta Chea died
over the weekend
I found out Sunday night
I suck in air
say I’m sorry
but the truth is
I’d forgotten
Chea Pen was in the hospital
will there be a funeral?
should I go?
there’s a funeral
and cremation
and a seventh-day ceremony
but you don’t need to go
it’s all Cambodian he says
and just so you know
tomorrow
the Newall Center
I won’t be going
I spent this afternoon
with Lok Ta Leap
oh I say
I’ll stop by
to see him
the next day I take the bus
to the Newall Center
and Zena’s frustrated
with her computer—
the word predictions
aren’t always bringing up
exactly what she wants
give it time I tell her
let’s just use the letter board today
and we do
but she’s impatient
and irritable
and finally I figure out
that she doesn’t have any poems
besides those she’s typed
into the computer but can’t
seem to retrieve to show me
and doesn’t want to spell out
all over again
I consider reading her the refugee poem
from the book Samnang loaned me
but it seems too harsh for her mood
so I read a poem that I found online
written by a performance poet
after her first visit to Phnom Penh
a poem that repeats in a list
and is full of hope
for the children of Cambodia
like the poet herself
Zena looks up when I ask if she likes it
but there’s no shine in her eyes
no spark of connection
so I ask if she wants to talk
or write poems
by letter boa
rd
or if she’d just rather work on her computer
but she seems exhausted by
her struggle to be able to write
independent of any helpers
so I tell her I’ll come to the workshop
led by that poet from the university on Saturday
I joke that this will save me from a skating date
and Zena looks up
a slight gleam in her eye
I tell her I’ll bring the notebook
so we can share poems
we’ve worked on
even if we can’t
access the poems
in the computer
she looks up again
but her eyes are heavy
so I get ready to leave
see you on Saturday
I say
I stop by Leap Sok’s room
do sompeas
and tell him I’m so sorry
and bow
I set my things down
and from my bag I pull
sheets of origami washi paper
I fold five cranes
and set them around the room
on Chea Pen’s food table
by the photo of Wat Banan
near the Buddha and Angkor Wat
on Chea Pen’s empty bed
and before a small shrine
set up on the dresser with
candles, incense and flowers
and a photo of Chea Pen
Leap Sok nods
and I bow
and go
then I return to Zena
who’s blinking at her computer again
and I put cranes all over her room, too
and even fold a purple one
and tuck it into the barrette in her hair
and finally, finally, finally
her eyes smile
YiaYia picks me up
and hands me my
black sweater
black skirt
and some flats
which I change into
in the car
she was the one
who insisted we go
and through Beth reached Lily
who gave her the details
on Chea Pen’s funeral
so despite what
Samnang said
about me not needing to go
YiaYia drives us
to the Buddhist temple
where we pay our respects
to Chea Pen and his family
I show YiaYia sompeas
on the way in
and she even does it
and holds the incense sticks
and sets them in the pot
everyone is in black and white
and I recognize a Newall aide there
and a dancer from the troupe
and we catch a glimpse of Lily
but not Samnang
before we have to leave
afterward we shop at three different markets
because YiaYia doesn’t like supermarkets
long as football fields
then we stop at an ATM in a plaza
with a Whole Foods
and I say what’s that?
too expensive YiaYia says
but I say can’t we just go in?
she says we’ve finished all the shopping
but I beg and she says grudgingly
all right, go see what it’s like
but just for a minute
then she comes in with me
I gaze at the produce
pick up some shiitake
white and purple eggplant
greens that look like komatsuna
and sesame seeds for ohitashi
I offer to cook that night
to make rice, ohitashi
grilled eggplant with ginger
and salmon done with
soy sauce, sake and lemon
like we make in Kamakura
so YiaYia supervises
and even gives me a few tips
like using white wine since there’s no sake
the way to do spinach in a steamer
and how to cook rice
without a rice cooker
Mom brightens
says it’s a perfect dinner
and even calls Dad to tell him
on Thursday I still don’t see Samnang at school
so I text him in the evening
when I think all the ceremonies might be done
ask how he’s doing
if he’ll join the poetry workshop
but he texts back I’ll pass
and a few minutes later
adds I’m seeing my dad Sat
I text back
your dad? should you?
but he doesn’t reply
on Friday night
I text Samnang again you ok?
he texts back for now
I call him
hey, are you really okay?
yep, doing great
voice low and empty
you’re not I say
are you seriously going to see your dad?
yeah he says
and something about the way he says it
makes me uneasy
is that a good idea? I say
I can hear his sharp intake of breath
then I can make out voices, music
people in the background
Samnang! where are you?
some party
are you drinking?
not yet
don’t! I say
Samnang, get out of there
just walk out the door and come get me
I’ll be outside my grandmother’s house
he’s silent
but I hear his breathing
and I wait through
five inhales
and five exhales
yeah, okay
Mom is in bed, Toby beside her
they’re watching a movie
and I tell her I’m going out
with Samnang for a bit
she pauses the movie
asks Toby to refill her water glass
and when Toby’s out of earshot
I say he just needs to talk
I’ll be back soon
my phone is charged
her eyes are stern
I know it’s late I say
but he’s a careful driver
and I’ll call
if I need someone
to come get me
I put on my jacket, scarf, hat, gloves
and wait at the end of the driveway
jumping up and down and doing arm circles
hoping he really will come
finally I see his headlights
but when I climb in the passenger seat
there’s a six-pack on the floor
with one can missing
where’s that one? I ask
out the window he says
did you open it?
yeah, then I chucked it at a tree
why’d you open it? I ask
no reason
there’s always a reason I say
and I tell him to go somewhere we can talk
instead of driving around
heading nowhere
we park at a diner
go inside
order ginger ales
and french fries
the reason I say tell me
he rubs his hands over his face
> all through his hair, then says
I don’t know
Lok Ta Chea—it hit me hard
I wait
push the fries toward him
he gulps his ginger ale
he starts again
it’s just the push and pull of people
that gets to me
some people expect me to
do this
others that
I’m supposed to be
Cambodian one minute
American the next
my elders want this
my teachers want that
I nod
sip my ginger ale
order him another
and sometimes there’s this draw to my father
and I want to see him but I know I shouldn’t
and I can’t seem to separate him from drinking
and I hate the way Beth and Chris and my mom and stepfather
all talk down about him and warn me off him
sometimes I just want a break he says
from all the expectations
people have of me
in Lowell
it’s like I can never just chill
there’s always something that has to be done
for family
for the community here
for people in Cambodia
The Language Inside Page 16