by Kit Pearson
I woke up and Tehteh was sound asleep in front of me with his coat rolled into a pillow under his head. He really looked different without his moustache. He’s always had a moustache.
The train was still rolling along with its endless clickity-clack. Then I noticed that it was beginning to slow down. I sat up and looked out the window. The sun was just rising over the trees. I remembered my brown lunch bag and pulled it from under my coat, which was draped over me. I looked inside and there was apple juice, a container of rice pudding and a muffin. I decided to eat that yummy rice pudding first, making sure that I took sips of the juice with it. My throat was tender, but not throbbing with pain anymore. Tehteh woke up when the train stopped. We were in the middle of nowhere. I didn’t see any houses at all. I happened to look at the clean slope of white snow over a rock when I saw a rabbit hop out of the bushes and run up the slope and come to a sudden stop right across from my window. I pointed to the rabbit just as Tehteh sat up. It sat there looking at the train. When the train lurched forward again with a lot of clanging and banging, the rabbit whirled and hightailed it back into the bush. I saw a huge tank thing go by on the other side of the train windows — maybe that is what we had to stop for — whatever that was.
I think I will save the muffin for our lunch stop on the way home. Tehteh says we should be there soon.
Back at Old Man’s Cabin
When we got off the train, Tehteh made me stay inside the waiting room until the train pulled out. Then he came in with one box under each arm and we hurried down the railway tracks to the old man’s place. As we neared the cabin, Boogy and Patch saw us and they were jumping up at the end of their chains, yipping. Their back ends were shaking from wagging their tails so fast! I ran and hugged them and they licked my face!
Tehteh was already inside when I got to the door. I stepped inside to see that the old man was by the stove and he turned and, with raised bushy eyebrows, he pointed at my clothes. Then he began a rasping hissing laugh that shook his shoulders! On impulse, I twirled around and did a good curtsy for him. Now his rasping took on a louder hiss as he clapped his hands and a gaping hole appeared on his bristly whiskered face. Then Tehteh went tsk, tsk, tsk, “ta-gibichita-eh” — so I stopped. Tehteh was right. No reason to give the old man a heart attack.
I went to the bed and took off the coat and silly boots. The old man had a meal of rabbit stew with dumplings ready for us. He told Tehteh that he was saving the moose meat for the long weeks until he would see him again — I guess Tehteh always brings him meat or fish when he comes into the community for supplies. The old man gave me a bowl of rabbit broth and lots of soft dumplings. It was delicious. They talked by the table for a while until Tehteh had to leave to go to the General Store to get some warm clothes for me.
At the Lunch Stop
When Tehteh got back from the store, he was in a hurry to leave so we could make it back to our cabin before dark. He brought back a wool sweater that I pulled on over my dress, and I stuffed my skirt into a pair of boys’ thick wool pants with a buttoned hole in front. While Tehteh switched his boots back to his moccasins, I pulled on two pairs of boys’ work socks. He couldn’t find any boots my size at the store, so he bought a pair of boys’ high, thick boot liners and tied them onto my feet with two-yard-long oil-lamp wicks. They were just like thick mukluks. Since I was going to be tied back into the canvas and blanket bag, I was going to be warm enough. The last thing to put on was the thick green parka he had bought. It had a wide hood with a thick fur fringe that would protect my face from the wind while crossing the lakes. Finally, I was ready to go, so Tehteh wrapped me up again and tied me to the sled.
The dogs were just bursting to go. With one last wave to the old man, Tehteh jumped on the back of the sled runners behind me and we were off. The dogs were running flat out when we hit the first lake, and soon we were up into another portage. Even with the lunch stop, we’re making good time.
We Have Arrived!
We got home just before the sun went down. Boogy and Patch started barking even before we were halfway across the lake. Soon, we could hear the other three dogs at the cabin barking back. Then I could see smoke coming out of the stovepipe of our cabin by the lake. It was good to be home!
As soon as Tehteh came in after tying the dogs to their doghouses, Mama stopped and said, “John, you look exactly like you did the day I first saw you!” Tehteh laughed and said, “You always look as pretty as the day I first saw you.” Eli made a whee-weo whistle at their flirting and we all laughed.
Mama opened the two boxes we brought back. Tehteh pulled out a doll with a very pretty yellow dress and a matching bonnet for Nina. Eli practically squealed with joy when he got a harmonica, and Mama was speechless when she unfolded a very beautiful royal blue dress, trimmed with lace and ribbons. I got a stack of four hard-covered, real notebooks and a package of pencils! When the box was empty, Mama asked if Tehteh got anything for himself. He pulled his shirt open and revealed a brand-new pair of white long johns! “Two pairs!” he said.
The other box had brown sugar, syrup, cocoa powder, molasses and other cooking treats. I watched from my bed, smiling, as Mama, Nina and Eli crowded around the kitchen table.
The quiet scene was suddenly split by the high-pitched screech of Eli blowing and sucking on the harmonica!! Tehteh was just untying his moccasins when Mama turned to glare at him. He quickly jumped to his feet and ushered Eli out the door with him.
While Mama was dishing out the evening meal, I decided to teach Nina how to do the Charleston — one foot kicking out and then the other, with our arms swinging back and forth. But then I heard a bang and a gush of water — I had accidentally kicked the slop pail over!
Wong Joe-on leaves his mother in China to join his father — a man he’s never met — in Canada. He can’t understand why his father would not have settled in Vancouver’s busy Chinese community, but instead runs a makeshift café in a small Saskatchewan town.
PAUL YEE was born in Saskatchewan, but moved to Vancouver at a young age. While he was growing up, no books about the Chinese in Canada were available, so he set out to create them himself.
Prairie Showdown
The Diary of Wong Joe-on
Tybalt, Saskatchewan
August – October 1921
[Translated from Chinese]
August 25, 1921
It is the day’s end so I congratulate myself. Why? Because no one else will.
Well done, Wong Joe-on, very well done, to travel alone for twenty-two days, across the world’s biggest ocean and two and a half Canadian provinces! Yes, Uncle Chung escorted me, but only to Vancouver. Not once did I fall sick, lose my way, or get in trouble!
Unfortunately, trouble began when I reached Tybalt. I had been so eager to meet my father. Then I gave up on him.
At the train station, Ba snapped, “Just one suitcase?”
No smile, no welcome, no thanking the gods for my safe arrival. Did he not have good feelings about my coming to Canada? Should I have stayed in China instead?
On our way to the restaurant, I tripped and fell. I wanted Ba to laugh. Instead, he grunted that this was the week’s busiest day and hurried ahead. The town looked so small and empty that I doubted he could have many customers.
Ba loudly greeted his handful of patrons as they muttered among themselves. Big and burly men, they wore boots, dusty pants and sun-darkened faces. To my surprise, Ba had left them sitting in the café when he went to fetch me. Ba has no helpers, no waiters, cooks or errand boys. Did the customers not steal from him? They paid me no attention, as if Ba hadn’t told them who I was. Perhaps Ba was ashamed to admit that never before had he seen his thirteen-year-old son.
The “restaurant” is a pitiful wooden shack. It is hardly worthy of the name café. Splinters defend its walls. Floor planks are uneven. Oilcloths lay over tables and a counter. Seats are wooden crates and fancy-back chairs. I smelled burnt meat and stale grease. The worst horse stable in China is bett
er furnished than this “King’s Café.” No royalty would ever set foot here!
Ba told me to wash dishes and chop kindling. But I kept peeking out front, wanting to see faces, hear English and learn my job. To the back, the land rolled flat under a giant sky. Far away were hills and a few trees. There were no buildings, roads or humans — nothing for adventure or excitement.
I went to wash the front window. The heat was intense outside; the bright sun made me squint. Across the road, men surrounded an auto. I kept glancing at it. How did such Western machines travel over land without animal power or human help? Then I saw human legs jutting out from under it. I ran to see if someone was dead, but a man rudely shoved me back. Then Ba stepped in and yanked me away.
At bedtime, I presented Ma’s letter and started to talk about our dikes collapsing. Ba snapped, “Did I ask you to speak?”
Ba has no right to chide me like that. I came here, across a whole ocean, to work. I should be treated like an adult!
August 29
This place is a prison. Ba views me as a toddler. When I go pump water, I return quickly, before he comes looking for me. When the restaurant emptied this afternoon, I thought to walk around town. Ba said no, it was too hot outside. He added that the Westerners dislike us and might do harm. Instead, I washed the window again.
Why come to Canada if I cannot explore it?
Dust and tumbleweeds drift by our restaurant all day long. People walk with their heads bent against the wind, hands clutching their hats. Some cars rumble by and kick up clouds of choking powder. Horse-drawn wagons leave mounds of dung that remind me of our water buffalo in China. Even our buffalo is luckier than me, because Ma and Grandma treat it lovingly.
Ba greets all his customers cheerfully. A few reply to him. Ba makes conversation. Sometimes it stops; sometimes people start to laugh. If Ba were half as friendly to me, I would be happy. I must learn English so I know what he is saying to them!
Ba scowls whenever he is in the kitchen, but out front he gives customers smiles and booming welcomes. How can I trust someone with two faces?
I joked about the heat but he snapped back, declaring that this was a farming place (as if I had not noticed). They needed hot weather to ensure crops were dry enough to harvest.
September 2
I stopped writing for a few days after my arrival, but then I decided to keep going. Only this journal keeps me from bashing my head on a wall.
I thought I had left Ma’s nagging behind in China. Instead, her question plagues me like a noisy mosquito: Why does your father not come home?
The villagers gave spiteful answers: He took a wife with blue eyes. He started a second family over there. He prospered and abandoned his past.
Such talk left Ma weeping.
I see nothing here to warrant such talk. Instead, I see reasons for Ba to leave. His customers are rude. To summon him, they thump their cups or rattle their plates. One man left without paying yesterday. Ba refused to let me chase him. Another man slammed down coins but kicked over our best chair.
Ba works longer than our farmers at harvest. At dawn when he wakes me, bread and pies are already in the oven. He cooks, greets customers, fetches ice and orders supplies. We close late. Ba sleeps only about five hours.
Yesterday I woke early when it was still cool, planning to sneak out for a walk. Ba was busy stacking bottles under the front window, where he had removed a section of the wall. The café is so pitifully small that every inch of space must be used for storage. I crept back to bed. China’s farmers relax a bit between planting and harvesting, but I doubt Ba does that. Does he even remember how to plant rice?
Western food is either bland or overly sweet. Potatoes, carrots and peas get boiled into mush. Meat — slabs of it, not bites — is seared black as coal. Fruit is baked until watery, between thin bread. All inedible. If I wanted to starve to death, I would have stayed in China. Why didn’t Ba settle in Vancouver, which has scores of Chinese restaurants? Why stay in this out-of-the-way town, with such meagre prospects?
September 5
I was peeling potatoes with a dull knife when Ba called for me. I was startled to meet a Chinese man and boy. I thought Ba and me were the only Chinese here. Uncle Guy runs the town hotel and its dining room. Sonny is eleven and short. I arrived ten days ago, yet never saw these people. That shows how caged I am.
Uncle Guy praised my height and muscles. He asked if I had been seasick and if my train had arrived on time — more than Ba had ever asked me. It felt good to speak and to be heard. Uncle Guy brought fresh-baked buns, his specialty. Sonny needs a new friend, he said.
But what use do I have for such a boy?
Hawk and I hated having his little brothers follow us everywhere. Now I miss them — no doubt they still stir up trouble each day.
Ba said tomorrow Sonny will take me to school. School? I came for work, not classes! I am not a little boy. Ba laughed and demanded if I could serve customers now. I had to say no. I only know the alphabet and some numbers. Uncle Guy said the teacher rents a room at his hotel.
Ba was guarded with Uncle Guy, not jolly as he is with customers. Later I learned that Ba opened the first restaurant in this town. Uncle Guy came later.
“I should not befriend Sonny,” I said, thinking Ba would agree. “We cannot trust them.”
Ba called me stupid.
If I am stupid, why should I waste my time going to school? I hate sitting for hours.
September 6
I knew nothing good would come from school. It was humiliating.
Because I spoke no English, I had to sit with the Grade Ones. Their feet dangled from the seats. My knees banged the desk. I looked to be too stupid for my proper grade. Sonny already spoke English and sat elsewhere. Everyone else is a Westerner.
Teacher is too young to know much. He pointed into a book and spoke. I repeated his sounds. The picture showed a cat chasing a mouse.
Mid-morning, everyone ran outside. I thought class was over. Sonny said it was rest time. He told me only English could be spoken at school. When I heard that some students from Europe also spoke no English, I felt better.
I went to the outhouse, and heard shouting and hooting. Two older boys were pushing Sonny back and forth. I went and marched him away, but one boy grabbed me from behind. Sonny and I told him to let go but the boy shoved me into his friend’s grip. Sonny shouted again for a stop. When the first one ran at me, head down in order to butt me in the stomach, I turned and slammed my hand into his friend’s face. When he yelped in pain, I planted a foot behind him and flipped him onto the ground.
Sonny’s eyes widened.
At noon, he and I ran to his hotel. He told me those boys’ names. I could not make them out, but they sounded like Jaw-jee and Wee-yum. We decided to tell our fathers nothing about the fight. It would only bring us trouble.
After afternoon classes, our enemies were waiting. Jaw-jee grabbed me from behind while Wee-yum shoved Sonny down the stairs. Other students screamed and gathered to watch.
My elbows shot out. I yanked Jaw-jee’s hand and jabbed my elbow into his stomach. He gasped and bent forward. My arm circled to his back and threw him to the ground.
I strolled home slowly. I had promised Master never to start a fight. I had kept my word. Sonny asked about my kung fu, so I told him about loudmouths back home who hounded me, like that man who doubted I had a father because he had never seen Ba’s face. I didn’t start those fights either, but I knew how to finish them.
All evening, whenever the café door opened, I looked up, expecting to see my enemies. What will I do if Ba forbids me from fighting?
September 7
Jaw-jee was not at school today. What a relief! Maybe he is hiding his bruises, or is afraid to face me. Not that I fear him. But we have started a battle that is unfinished. Of course Jaw-jee plans revenge. I would, if I were him.
Later that afternoon, I threw dishwater over our garden behind the café. A puff of cloud hung near the g
round, far to one end of the blue horizon. When I came out again fifteen minutes later, the cloud had darkened and grown ten, fifteen times, up and down. I have never seen anything sprout so quickly. The giant cloud blackened the land beneath, and jags of lightning lashed out. Meanwhile the other end of the horizon remained bright blue. I ran inside. What if the lightning set the crops aflame? It was too awful to imagine.
Fifteen minutes later, when I peeked again, the cloud had shrunk and drifted higher. Most of the sky was blue again. What a strange, terrifying land!
September 8
I did not fight today, even though I was provoked. Master would have praised me.
Ba served hot soup to a man and hurried away. The man had no spoon so I took one over and smiled. When I turned away, something hard bounced off my head. The spoon clattered to the floor. Ba quickly fetched another one. I had brought the wrong size. For soup, it is the bigger one. The man was not a regular customer. If he comes back, I will spit into his coffee before serving it.
September 9
Teacher ate dinner here. He ordered the roast beef.
I was surprised to see him because Uncle Guy’s place is better. A soft but shiny hard sheet covers his floor. White stone tabletops sit on fancy iron legs. Uncle Guy’s white shirt and tie are clean, and his apron is spotless. Ba’s dark shirt has caked stains that he thinks no one can see.