Joss and Gold

Five

Five Ch"t'" looked glum the next time Li An saw him. She had been going to the lounge every afternoon, hoping to meet him there, but it was more than a week before she saw him coming in to buy cigarettes from Ratnam. "Whatever you have must be catching," he said. "The headmaster has switched me from woodworking to teaching English. The Peace Corps told him it would have to be woodworking and he agreed, but now he says he really needs another English teacher, not a carpenter." She laughed maliciously. "You'll be teaching Donne and Shakespeare and Hopkins?" "Worse. He caught me singing folksongs to my students. You know," Chester sang a line, "'To everything, turn, turn, turn.'" He grimaced as Li An applauded. "They wanted to learn American songs. But based on that he thinks I can teach the 'General Paper'-writing essays and answers to comprehension questions. Now the students expect me to write essays for them to copy and memorize for exams. I don't understand why everyone wants to learn English. It's not going to do them any good. No one seems to understand that the British are gone." "But you're not British. You're American, and you're here." "Well, you people sure are going to have some problems." She bit her nails, annoyed. "I don't see any problems. Why is a language a problem?" CROSSING He stared at her through the cigarette smoke and pushed his hair back nervously. "My roommates have been telling me things. They don't like it that I'm teaching English. They call it the language of the bastards." "In English?" She made her voice sarcastic. "You don't understand. I'm just visiting. I don't live here. Hell, I don't want to be responsible for anything here. In the Peace Corps we're not supposed to interfere with a country's politics. You know, Lee Ann, you should be doing something else." Her good humor at seeing him again was gone. "Why do you worry about me? I was going to offer to bring you to Pusat Besar, the new Malay bazaar, but you're so whiny, better forget about it, lah!" "Now you're talking like my roommates," he said, smiling. "Okay. We go, lah." It was strange having Chester behind her on the seat. She thought everyone stared at them as the Honda roared down Batu Road. He was heavy, and the bike couldn't move as fast, but she liked the way his hand rested lightly on her shoulder. He was so much taller that as he spoke she couldn't hear him above the wind, and he had to bend to talk into her ear. The new Malay bazaar had opened just last week. Strings of ceremonial palm and decorative paper flowers still hung between the stalls, but there were few shoppers. The stalls were crowded with carved wood statues, krises, serving spoons of buffalo horn, the distinctive black and white of Kelantan silver, and all kinds of batik cloths-folded in sarong lengths, laid out as tablecloths and napkins, and swaying from poles in long tunics and skirts. Each stall displayed the same goods. The shopkeepers sat on chairs by their stalls, sullen and illat -ease, as if they would rather be somewhere else. Everything smelled new and artificial. Business was not good. She didn't want to buy anything. The Malay bazaar was for tourists, but Chester was the only tourist in sight. "So many things to sell, and no one to buy!" she said lightly, although she felt oppressed by the sight. "You'll have to buy something." Finally he picked out two pieces of checked sarong cloth 37 JOSS and GOLD for himself. Abdullah and Samad wore sarongs like these around the house, and he wanted to surprise them with his own. "Wait," he said when they got back to the Honda. He took the key from Li An, gave her his package, and straddled the machine. "Get on." She liked to feel the air speeding by with her eyes closed. He was not as reckless as she was, and his tall trunk sheltered her from the stink ofafternoon traffic. The railway station with its arabesque of Ali Baba minarets passed in a flash. The motorbike wove in between the packed lines of cars leaving the city, then Chester stopped...