Devil Monkey sits outside of the bus station. He wears the same camaflouge
outfit that I saw him in the first time that I encountered him on the streets of Zhongwei. One of his monkeys rests on his shoulder while the other two sit on the ground, their heads perked up. It seems that we’re traveling the same route. I decide to break the ice and have a chat. Take the Devil out of the Monkey and put the man back in the suit.
“Where are you from?” I ask him.
“Henan.”
“Ah, I know Henan. I’ve been to Jiao Zuo. It’s a nice town,” I say, making conversation.
“You’re Chinese isn’t bad. How long have you been here?”
“4 years. How long have you been doing your monkey act for?”
The monkey on his shoulder hops off and walks around on the ground. Two of Devil Monkey’s friends, co-workers?, sit on the ground. One of them pets the oldest of the 3 monkeys.
“I’ve been doing this for a few years now. Going from town to town. Not a bad way to see the country, eh?” he asks.
“Not bad. Where you headed today?”
“Back to Yinchuan. From there, not sure where I’ll go yet.” He scratches his head.
“How often do you get back home?” I ask him.
“About once a year, during the Spring Festival.” He pauses. “What are you doing here, anyway? Hai Yuan isn’t much.”
“I just took a week off of work. I work in a travel agency. Came here to hear Hua Er. Do you know this kind of singing?” I ask.
“No, never heard of it. Hua Er. Nope…hey…do they have guys like me in the States?” he asks.
“Haven’t seen many guys walking around with monkeys. Probably not allowed. Some people might have a problem with you pulling these monkeys around. But if you want to give it a shot, you can call the travel agency I work with. Why not?” I say, joking.
“Too far for me. I wouldn’t know anything about the States. You’ve got a black president now, right?”
“Yep. That’s right. Obama.” I look at my watch. The bus’ll be coming soon.
“Hey, I’ve gotta’ get going. Good luck, man,” I say.
“Good luck,” he answers.
Return to Zhongwei
When I get on the bus, there are seats enough for everyone. Across the aisle from my seat is an old Hui Man with a long beard. He and his wife both cover their heads, his with a white cap, she with a kind of scarf. He has a bad cough. His sunglasses are flat, huge, and round. They are the kind that reflect everything projected towards them. He has a bad cough and chews on his lip.
During the ride, the young guy sitting next to me pulls out a cigarette and starts to fumble with it in his hand. I know that he wants to smoke it, but he doesn’t take his lighter out yet. He’s sitting so close to me, so if he starts smoking, the smoke will blow into my face. The bus stops and the old couple gets off at a small crossroads between two villages. One girl boards the bus and sits in the seat next to the window where the old man was sitting. They guy next to me continues to fumble with his cigarette. I really don’t want smoke in my face on a bus.
“You’re not really going to smoke that are you?” I say with a smile.
“Uh…yeah…what?” He’s uncertain. Did I say that?
“I have an allergy to cigarette smoke. Sorry.” I make this line up, hoping that he’ll catch on.
“Oh, ok.” He puts the cigarette in his breast pocket. Success…or so I think. A couple of minutes later, he moves across the very narrow aisle and sits next to the girl, pulls out the cigarette and lights up. He’s only about a foot further away from me now. The smoke comes into my face.
I look away from the man out the window and remember my promise to Mrs. Xie the night before. I’m supposed to send her daughter a message on my phone. Looking up her number, I type a message in Chinese that reads:
“Hi, last night I met your mother in Hai Yuan. I’m from America. She’s so hospitable.”
A couple of minutes later, her daughter replies to me:
“Sorry, you must be mistaken. My mother doesn’t know any Americans.”
Of course she doesn’t believe me. The likelihood of an American traveling to Hai Yuan is very slim, not to mention the likelihood of an American being inside of her house talking with her mother. I decide to send another message. This time I write in Chinese and in English, and I mention her mother’s full name, telling her that I met her mother by chance the evening before. This message is sure to convince her. The response I get is not what I expect:
“Who are you? Why are you in Hai Yuan? And how do you casually know my mother? Don’t tell me that you just ‘bumped into her’ cause I won’t believe you. Who told you my mother’s name!?”
After seeing this message I’m reminded of the evening before when her mother believed that I thought she was trying to trick me when she told me her age. Something’s up with this family…sometime, somewhere, someone did something to them that made them lose their trust in people. There is spite and hurt in her message, like a trapped animal. I can’t believe that she is so guarded and suspicious. It never occurred to me.
The next message I send back is in English:
“If you don’t believe me, that’s ok. But I really did meet your mother, and she is very nice. You can ask her. If I am ever back in Hai Yuan again, I hope to see her once more. Good luck with your studies.”
A few minutes later the reply comes. She starts to ease up on the defensive and believe me, telling me she has a test coming up soon. There is still a tinge of shock and awe that an American was in her house the evening before. It’s a good thing I left a photo with her mother.
Lunch
By the time we arrive in Zhongwei, my stomach is growling. I take a bus from the station back to the center of town near where I stayed the night before going to Hai Yuan. On the bus, a young Chinese couple eyes me from time to time. Both of them have friendly faces, both are wearing round spectacles. The man approaches me, moving past a lady holding onto the back of a seat to support herself.
“Are you from America?” he asks me.
“Yes. What about you?” I ask.
“China,” he laughs. “From Lanzhou in Gansu Province.” Lanzhou is a place I’ve always wanted to visit. One of the best Chinese teachers I’ve ever had is from there. She currently studies in Boston, MA, one of the only students of mine that I taught in Yichun to make it for further study in the U.S.
“Are you a Christian?” he asks me.
“No…I guess I’m Jewish…but I don’t believe in God.” I’m never sure how to express this correctly. I like affiliating myself with Judaism, but at the same time I know that I am a non-believer, “an infidel,” as Luther Burbank would say. However, I can be Jewish if I want to…my mother is Jewish (also an infidel?–I’ll have to ask her), and my father’s father was Jewish (my father is a dyed-in-the-wool atheist). Yesterday I was Hui. Today I’m a Jew. That’s the way the way the world is.
“We’re both Christians,” he says.
“Are there lots of Christians in Lanzhou?” I ask him.
“There are a lot who go to our church. Maybe 200 or so whenever we go.”
“How many churches are there in Lanzhou?” I ask. I’m really curious about this sort of thing. Unfortunately, the couple needs to get off the bus at the next stop. Possibly this conversation is the one that leads me to Gansu at some point in the future. Another grey hair.
After the couple exits the bus, I ride for another 5 minutes until we arrive at the drum tower. Walking past the drum tower, I find a side street and a small restaurant to have my lunch at. Ordering a small bowl of noodles, I decide to sit outside, as the restaurant itself is too hot. Next to the umbrella that I sit under, there is a small drink cooler. No one else sits outside on the street, although there are other tables. After my noodles come, I start to slurp them down in silence. A guy approaches the front of the restaurant and opens up the cooler to purchase a drink. He pulls out a bottle of water and waits for the waitress inside to come out so that he can pay. I look up at him.
“That’ll be 2 RMB,” I say with a smile.
He reaches into his pocket, pulls out 2 RMB and gives it to me directly. After that he turns and walks away, opening up his bottle of water. I look back inside the restaurant to see if the waitress has noticed. She has her back to me and is fanning herself with a menu. I could pocket this 2 RMB easily but decide to inform the waitress of what just happened. I call out to her.
“Hey, water is 2 RMB, right?” I ask.
“Uh-huh. You can pull one out of the cooler.” She says, not getting up.
I stand up and walk over to her. “No, a guy just bought a bottle. Here’s your money.” I give it to her. She laughs as she takes the money, and I can’t help cracking a smile, either.
To Wuhai
After lunch it’s on to Inner Mongolia, specifically, Wuhai. I don’t know anything about Wuhai except for the fact that my hero, Amanda, lives there. I’m going there specifically to see her and her town…no other reason. In the afternoon, I wait for the train at the Zhongwei station and buy some food for the ride. I’ll eat on the train, as it’s arrival time is late in the evening, after 10pm. I don’t want to eat too much, so I just buy some canned porridge, some bread, and some fruit. The pack of people lined up to get on the train stand in a large clump around the exit of the station. It’s the kind of clump one can find anywhere at any station in China. The train will be delayed for a few minutes. I put my baggies of snacks down, along with my backpack. I’m ready to go. Taking out my phone, I send a message to Amanda and tell her that I’m on the platform waiting for the train.
“Ok. We will meet you when you arrive. Have safe journey.”
“We?”…
