Sarah Dix Hamlin School - Epilogue Yearbook (San Francisco, CA)

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You are pretty small to be taking a job so far off. I wouldn't be going if it wasn't for-well, it's difficult at home. You know, big family, and the crops didn't do so well this year, and well-you know. Besides it isn't a very hard job. All I have to do is brush dogs and clean their eyes and-- Anyway I'm too small for any other work. The old man nodded understandingly. Don't you know that sometimes No. 2 dog coolie does No. 1 dog coolie's work besides a lot of things that the rest ofthe servants don't like doing? Ping stubbornly twirled a wisp of grass with his big toe. Well, I want that job and I have to get it besides. So I think I ought to be getting along now. Goodbye, son. If I wasn't going the opposite way, we could go along together. Good luck! Once on the road Ping didn't look back, instead he decided that he ought to hurry. The road was getting warm now. Soon the tar would begin to squish, and then it would be too hot for his bare feet. There wasn't any grass growing by the side, either. He might have to start walking in the paddy Helds, and that was rough going. Suddenly he was attracted by a water buffalo wallowing up to its ears in mud. Thick grey slush was pouring over its horns. Ping looked on admir- ing1y.Warer buffaloes were so nice as long as one didn't get too near their horns. Strange, though, how they hated foreigners. Some said it was the smell of soap that annoyed them. Perhaps it was. People were always saying things like that: things they were not sure about. From the water buffalo Ping's attention wandered down the road. There, waddling towards him in full force were a company of quacking brown ducks, herded along by a Chinaman with a big stick. Every time they started to spread into the middle ofthe road, the man would stretch out his bamboo and wave them all unceremoniously back to the side. Presently a scratched red truck with green characters on it drew up to a momentary standstill behind the ducks which were for the tenth time blocking the way. After a great deal of swearing on both sides, the ducks were finally persuaded to the edge ofthe road, and the truck passed on. Farther down Ping saw some women carrying buckets of water on bam- boo poles slung across their shoulders. The thought of water sent him over .- .Ie V. .,... ..,.ue...,..c ,sae ..... 4......,.-- -. ,-,-...v...-,,-W 7 Y . .., ,. ..

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ING walked thoughtfully along the road, wondering to him- 'Dui 2 self how far it was from Tai Po to Fan Ling. Perhaps it wouldn't be too far, but somebody had said it was about ten miles. I-le shuddered but decided that walking might banish the unpleasant thought of the distance. Besides, it was a beautiful morning. I-Ie gazed approvingly at the long black road stretching before him between the green paddy fields shining in the early morning sunlight. Yes, it was a beautiful day. Suddenly his consciousness was startled by the squeak of a wheelbarrow, a large wooden one. Squeaks were good joss, for they scared away devilsg at least that's what People said.The wheelbarrow was being propelled down the middle ofthe road by a very old man in a red straw hat, the strings of which dangled down under his chin. I-Ie was obviously the center of much ill- feeling, for behind him roared a large old-fashioned car, filled with clogs and a Chinese family, all of whom were tooting, yelling, jumping up and down, and barking at the poor unfortunate in the middle of the road. The miserable one, on the other hand, seemed completely oblivious ofthe fact that he might be blocking the traffic. Finally, realizing that all was not well, he sidled over to the edge of the road, allowing the car and family to screech by. As the old man turned, he noticed little Ping with his scrubby black hair and his frayed jacket, carrying gingerly in front of him a foreigner's shabby grey hat obviously filled with treasured possessions. The old man grinned apologetically and maneuvered his wheelbarrow to a standstill. Mopping his forehead, he said, I can't get used to those con- traptions. Where I come from they don't have anything faster than this. He pointed to his wheelbarrow. North China? Ping inquired. Yes, I come down here every so often. Still have trouble with your dialect. Then he changed his tone of voice. What are you doing today, young man? Ping grinned sheepishly and looked even smaller than before. Well, I'm going to get a job. Then he added Proudly, My brother is Mr. Chesley's No. 1 dog coolie. I-le needs more help: so I'm going to be No. 2 dog coolie. Dug Clunlin

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the side of the road to stand in the cool wet paddy fields for a few moments. When he returned to the road, he saw two women carrying a pig between them on bamboo poles. The pig was lying in a wicker basket, with its feet hanging forlornly out of the end. How he wished that he too might be carried along. Ping now knew that he must be approaching the town. It was getting lateg so he hoped that he would be able to find out there how far he really had to go. On arriving at Un Long he was greeted by a very dirty little town, the smell of which drifted in clouds around it. There were the regular bits of chewed up sugar cane all over the dusty street, while pigs lounged comfort- ably on piles of garbage. Two dogs started to fight, but the people still kept milling around not aware of the commotion. The sides of the shops were covered with layers of torn advertisements, in which unattractive ladies with powdered, torn faces peered down from stuccoed walls. Myriad of flies flew around magenta colored boxes and strips of meat in shop windows. This was just what Ping had looked forward to, and he could hardly tear himself away from the town's unsightly wares. He grinned as he passed the Sikh policeman and whistled at a blase chow sitting in a doorway, his blue tongue hanging out, paying absolutely no attention to anybody. Once outside the town he hurried on. The sun was going down, and the mountains in the distance were becoming a hazy blue. The breeze was blow- ing through the long paddy, while the insects in the grass by the wayside were beginning to hum. It was much cooler nowg the mosquitoes, taking advantage ofthe fact, had suddenly come out and were biting right and left. Ping was beginning to feel very tired. His feet hurt, and he was thirsty. He flicked a mosquito off his cheek and looked around him. The place must be about here. Yes, over there was the gate, a green gate with a bamboo hedge on one side and a granite milestone on the other. Those were the directions his brother had given him. Carefully he shoved the gate open. It was heavy and made his weary little back hurt. He grit his teeth hard as he shut it. Before him stretched a long wide drive which sharply curved behind tall trees. He could see lights flickering through the leaves. Suddenly a dog which had been digging up a sacred flower bed ran out into the drive. He stared uncertainly at Ping, and then he ran forward ... .,., A'-'-:- -'-'-'sl - ------1 '-':n - r la.t'