Joss and Gold

Four

Four T.next tutodal meeting WM better. She had picked a George Herbert poem. Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright, The bridall of the earth and skie, The dew shall weep thy fall tonight, For thou must die, ... This time every student approved of her choice. Something about death appealed to Sally, Gomez, Mina, the Chinese girls, and Wong. They were all enthusiastic about the sentiment of making something spiritual out of death, something stronger than wood or sweets, something that lasted longer than a human life. She left the seminar room thinking perhaps it wasn't so terrible to be an English teacher if she could get everyone to agree on one beautiful poem. Ellen was trying a new job as an assistant manager at the Cold Storage supermarket and had not called her in five days. It was good to be by herself for a while, Li An thought, smiling as she entered the faculty lounge to buy a pack of cigarettes . She noticed the tall American because he was also looking for cigarettes. "You teach here?" he asked. "Can you ask him if he has any filters?" She gave Ratnam an amused smile. "Ratnam understands CROSSING English. He's just too embarrassed to speak it to you. Dia nak rokok filter," she said to Ratnam, who never minded her bad Malay. Ratnam ducked his head under the counter to check his cigarette store. "I'm American," the stranger said, as ifit explained his ignorance . "Chester Brookfield." He stuck out his hand. It was hairy and sweaty. She was sure it wasn't clean. She shook it delicately, still reticent around white peopleunlike Ellen, who had seen them steal books and cheat on bills. The only white people Li An had met were British teachers and lecturers, and she associated whites chiefly with governors and other colonial officials, and with the great Romantic poets and novelists about whom R R. Leavis wrote. Every white person in the university seemed to be superior and aloof, and she avoided the lecturers when she could. Chester was different, she supposed, because he was American. For one thing, he didn't have an important job. He was teaching woodworking at the Petaling Jaya Vocational High School. Woodworking, he explained, was carpentry as an art. You made dowels, fitted joints and pegs, and didn't use screws, nails, or glues. Instead, you planed wood to make joints so tight and smooth that water would not leak out of a wooden pail, and a dresser drawer would pull in and out as if on grease. Like poetry, she thought, but she didn't dare say it in case he disagreed. "Lee Ann?" he said, his voice making a melodious upturn below his long pinched nose. "No, Li An," she corrected him, beating out the syllables in a spondee. But he couldn't get it right. "Lee Ann, okay?" His voice seemed naturally lazy, his words slid one into the other like a smooth ride, and she relaxed and smiled, "Okay." Chester was taking Malay lessons at the university after teaching his morning woodworking classes. His classes at the Vocational High School had not been going well. In fact, only three students had registered for them. No one wanted to be an artisan-carpenter in Malaysia, he said exasperatedly. The 29 JOSS and GOLD three students came because they wanted to hear about America, and they spent the entire morning asking questions. "How big is America? Is it bigger than Malaysia? England?" "Where you live? What? Con-ne-ti-ket? Oh, New England? New England has Hollywood?" "How rich is America?" "Why you keep your hair long? All Americans keep long hair?" The Malay language lessons were just beginning. He knew how to say "good morning," "thank you," and "how are you?" and he used these words as often and charmingly as he could. She saw that Chester badly wanted people to like him. He didn't have time for other Westerners, because he spent as much time as he could with Malaysians. But he didn't keep to one group. He had Chinese friends, who soon included Henry and herself, and Indian friends like Dorisammy and Gopi, and Malay friends like his roommates, Abdullah and Samad. Being in the Peace Corps, he didn't have much money, but that only made him seem more likable. Not that he borrowed money...