Birmingham High School - Piper Yearbook (Birmingham, MI)

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'isa Anabel Dahlquist '35 A faint, blue stem of incense arose from the carved jade burner on the little lacquered table at my right. It was fragrant sandalwood, butuit annoyed me, and I shifted uncomfortably in my seat on the floor. was I to sit here all day gazing at old Loo Chung? I knew not why he had called me hereg I suspected it was because he wished to give me counsel. Though I had lived in China for two years in my capacity of foreign correspondent for the New York Gazette, he still took a particular delight in summoning me into his presence at regular intervals for this purpose. Old Loo Chung prided himself that I usually took his advice, too. As a matter of fact, he was a wise old fellow, and he served excellent tea of a particularly rare brand. The old Chinese was a stickler for custom, how- ever. He must always sip his tea first, remarking at length on the relative mer- its and virtues of Chinese tea above that of all other countriesgand then I must taste mine and also deliver a discourse on its rare excellency. But today,after his customary connoisseur's sip, his eyes still stared past me, perhaps at the silken curtained window behind me which overlooked one of the numerous courtyards of the house of Loo. I wished fervently that he would speak soon, but I knew that he sometimes sat thus in silence for minutes at a time. I was more uncomfortable today than usual,and I am afraid my impatience was rather obvious. I had a very special date for dinner and the fights at five with the niece of the American consul, and I was eager to be off. I wanted to speak, but to thus disturb his silence would be unpardonable. I really valued his friendship, and I knew beneath that veneer of unbending formality he cherished no small amount of affection for me. Old Loo Chung had never had a song but only a beautiful young girl of twenty whom he loved above all else in this world. I never saw her much, and I knew little about her except that sne had been well-educated in American schools. Her name was Loc Yin. I thought briefly how queer it must be for a young girl to live with a stiff old gentleman like Loo Chung. He insisted on scrupulous observance of the customs of his ancestorsg a rather formal, dull existence for her. Perhaps that was why she appeared to me to be tragic and pre-occupied. My gaze wandered about the room, again taking in the familiar objects. They had always held a strange fascination for me.Somehow I felt out of place in this room. There were small relics of ancient workmanshipg floor coverings of hand- some, hand-woven carpets worth a fortuneg on the table near me a handful of old Chinese piasters, black with age: Most of it appeared never to have been touch- ed. I recovered from my reflections because of that irritating smell again, and I turned my eyes to Loo Chung. His face,the color of parchment, on which a thou- sand wrinkles had been etched in perfect symmetry,was as calm as ever and in ex- actly the same position. The robe of fuchsia damask with embroidery of gold dra- gons which hung in rich folds about his thin form and the little black cap which concealed only the top of his head made him resemble a statue of Buddha.There 9

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to field-glasses or an eight-cylinder car. One of the most peculiar sights we came upon was the outside barber. He would stroll along the street carrying his equipment, chair and all, until he met a customer and then set up shop wherever he might be. ' In appearance the native Indian is a very picturesque figure.He often wears two large sombreros, the best one on top. The Indian is never seen without his sombrero, and yet we saw no bald Indiansg this would explode the theory that hat wearing diminishes the hair. He wears a white, pink, or blue shirt and white py- jama trousers often rolled up to the knees. On his feet he wears Uguarachesn, a type of sandal. Many thousands of old automobile tires are imported from the United States each.year to use as soles for these Wguarachesn. The Indian woman always wears her hair down, either in long black braids or loose around her shoulders. Her skirt is ankle-length, full and gored, and her collarless blouse is tucked into her skirtg she wears a bright-colored sash,earrings, and a shawl- like scarf called a Ureboson in which there is tucked away the inevitable baby. f0ne wonders how the poor little thing breathes7.Besides the baby she is usually toting a heavy bundle. Many of the table manners are quite different from ours. The men sit at the they finish eating before the women sit down. Dinner at about nine o'clock and usually consists of from course is an egg dish very tastily a separate course. Hard rolls are table and are served firstg is served in the evening eight to ten courses. One brown 'frijoles fbeans lform butter. The meats are generally tough, but chicken is good and fresh tropical fruits like the banana, mango,and pineapple are cooked, and rich served but seldom quite common. The very deliciousThe coffee is abominableg it has been roasted until burnt and is served with hot milk. Then there are the typical Mexican dishes like the tortillas, the national dish of Mexico.They are made from a paste of corn meal and lime water and rolled very thin like a pancake.At first they taste as flat as they look,but one learns to like them. They are served with avocado paste. Another popular dish is the enchillade, a tortilla rolled around meat and sauce. The tomale is made of meat surrounded with cornmeal and slipped into a cornhusk. It is as famous in Mexico as the 'hot dogn is in the United.States. We are inclined to form our impressions of the Mexican from the railroad laborers in this country or the bandits pictured in the movies, and we think of them as a greasy,undesirable lot. when one has had the opportunity to live among them,one changes that first impression and concludes that his brother across the border has some very admirable qualities. Even the poorest has a quiet dignity that is most admirable. One of the outstanding characteristics is their extreme courtesy. There is always a greeting on meeting anyone, stranger or friend, on the road. When a guest enters a home the mistress always informs him, nEs su Casan, which means, nThis is your homeN.If in the course of his visit the guest should admire anything which he saw in the house, the hostess will present him with the object of his admiration and will not permit him to refuse it. On a street car or bus, a man always rises to give his seat to a womang it makes no difference whether the woman is a smart looking Spaniard or a poorly dressed peasant. It is small wonder that this country with its charming people and fascinat- ing scenery captivates everyone who has visited its shores.It is a country which once seen one hopes some day to visit again. March is a changeable old woman who can't decide whether to scold you for your muddy feet or to soothe your cares with gentle, spring-like breezes. 8

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was something inexorably cruel about that face now as I looked at it, and I was about to speak when I heard a sound behind me. I half turned. Loo Yin stood there,more lovely than ever- She seemed like a character from some old print, with her skin like old ivory and her costume of lavender satin. But I perceived something more. She seemed surprised to see me. In her eyes were mirrored fear and horror. In a moment she had recovered and walking swiftly to us, she emptied the contents of both our teacups into the teapot almost before I noticed and taking it in her hands, dashed it against the wall. Fascinated, I watched the amber liquid spread in an ever-widening stain on the silken-covered wall. ' I instinctively turned my eyes to Loo Chung's face. Surely he would say something, offer some explanation? Loo Yin had crouched,sobbing, before the mo- tionless figure of her father who sat as ever, staring straight ahead. A cruel, little smile seemed to play about his lips, but perhaps it was my imagination. Loo Yin raised her lovely head and turned her tear-stained face toward me. Those eyes sought my face as if searching for something she could not find, for I am afraid she saw only bewilderment. Though she wept helplessly,it seemed to me that there was no remorse in her cries--only fear and despair. She kept murmuring over and over, 'I have killed him, oh, I have killed him!n She had repeated it many times before I seemed to grasp its full significance and was aroused into action. No wonder that he had not spoken! I listened fearfully at Loo Chung's chest. Yes, there was There was no doubt about itg the old man was dead and had been since he had first sipped the tea. Poison, and quick working too. Loo Yin was still sobbing, but I pleaded with her to tell me was hard to describe my feelings. I felt a strange sadness,for Loo my friend5nevertheless,my sentiments were not entirely against Loo it is as condemning a sin to kill one's own parent as in any other somehow I felt that the girl was justified. how I did not know. The girl was incoherent in her grief. Until sometime later, I no heartbeat. dead probably her story. It Chung hadbeen Yin. In China country, but was unable to piece together her story as she told it to me. From what I gathered, however, this was what had happened: - 1 Loo Yin at birth had been betrothed, as is the custom in China,to a wealthy Chinese boy,the scion of one of the oldest families in Peking.It was Loo Chung's wish that by their marriage they would unite the two housesgmuch as he loved his daughter, he did not intend to be defeated in his purpose. But Loo Yin had been sent to America to be educated and having prevailed and the her And ing upon her father to let her stay longer than he wished, grew to love independence of the Western world.She told me that only then did narrowness and backwardness of her life as it would be if she marriage and consequent self-effacement as the wife of a Chinese she had fallen in love,desperately,with a young Chinese student, in America and also as unwilling to return to his own land. They wished to the freedom she realize returned to gentleman. also study- marry secretly, but Loo Yin felt that it was her duty to go to her father and appeal to him first. She knew he would doubtless never be reconciled to the fact that she had married against his wishes, but she thought that he would not be so C continued on page 64 J 10