Once There Was A Hill.

Staring at the sea... Originally uploaded by me jules

There was once opposite his village a spit of land that curved out to sea in an arch which ended with a solitary hill. When the sun sets, the fisherman liked to walk along the beach till the sun is framed against the hill at that exact position he would like it to be that day. That would be the spot he would choose to sit and idly gazed as the ball of fire doused its flame beneath the waves. Sometimes, he would climb the hill behind his village just as the sun was sinking mumbling Wang Zhi Huan’s poem “If one desire to see further, one has to scale higher.” He amused himself by timing his ascent to reach the peak the moment sun disappeared. He often examined his feelings when he was early, late or precise and found them inconsistent and sometime contradictory to what he expected to feel.

The hill is now gone. There is no angle out there now in the sea for the sun to be coy. They tore it down for the earth and rock to build jetties and wharfs. The padi fields and duck farms from Shekou to Shenzen are also gone along with any hills along that stretch. Huge mechanical monsters gobbled up the proud hills and spat them out to fill fields till all that is left is just an ugly flat land. Buildings sprang up all over the places and outsiders with no attachments for the land descended upon it like invaders from the North overwhelming the residents. The villagers lost their voices for they had become the new minority clinging to a way of life these newcomers have fled from.

He missed that hill. He loves it more now that it is gone. The absent hill reminded him constantly of his loss. He never once told the hill how much he loved it. There was never any need. Now he wished he had.

He had no love for these newcomers. Wherever they were from, they assumed an air of superiority and boasted about the places they left behind. Their focus was only on how to make money as fast as possible. They were rude, impatient and look down upon the local’s way of life as backward while they cramped themselves in unsanitary quarters no better than the farmer’s pig sty and went to work in sweat shops just as bad. They wanted to imitate the ‘modern way’ having no real idea what that is except making lots of money. So they aped the Honkies they saw in TV and put on an air to differentiate themselves from ‘ordinary’ Chinese. The villagers stayed away from the newcomers whom they viewed with equal disdain.

One day returning from his evening walk at the edge of his village, a figure rushed towards him, stumbled and fell. Instinctively, he bended down and pulled her up to stare into a pair of frightened yet defiant eyes. There were rushing feet and shouts as several men ran towards them. The girl pulled away but some reason he held on to one of her arm preventing her escape.

“Thank you brother” one of the men breathlessly said. They were newcomers.

“Why are you chasing her?” he asked.

“Oh, she owed us money. Tried to run away without paying.”

He looked at her for confirmation. “They promised me a good job in the city but now they wanted me to be a bargirl.”

He released his hold on the girl. Turned to face the men and told them bluntly “you cannot take her away” hoping that his voice was not shaken by the pounding of his heart.

“Friend, don’t give us trouble” he threatened. The five men spread out to cut off their escape.

Suddenly, there was a shout. “Hoi! What is the problem?” A group of villagers came upon them and now it were the newcomers who were outnumbered. The villagers were armed with sticks and poles of their trades.

The leader of the pack spoke conciliatory “Ah, it is only a small misunderstanding, a small misunderstanding” but from the look of it they are not willing to give up so easily. Some of them dug their right hands into their pocket reaching for something.

“Let me through, let me through.” A shriveled old man with a bad leg hobbled into the circle. He was the village headman. He ignored everyone and limped to the leader and they talked in low voices. An intense negotiation seemed to be going on punctuated by fierce looks and threatening gestures. Then the rough thug with the unbuttoned shirt and tattooed arm and the frail old man just stood there staring at each other.

The thug then gave a nod, turned and walked away, hastily followed by the rest of his gang. The fisherman walked over to the headman but he shut him up with “don’t say anything. I’ve been waiting a long time to repay you for saving Xiao Lo’s life”. He wanted to protest but the disapproving look from the headman told him not to. So instead, he just gracefully said “Xie xie” bowing his head which brought a wide smile to the old man. “Very good, very good” the old man sounded very pleased.

Everyone then left leaving him alone with the girl. As he stood there watching them go, he recalled how he saved the old man’s grandson when a huge wave washed the inexperienced youngster into rough sea. It was nothing. It was a natural thing to do. And he was embarrassed to be repaid for it.

He suddenly realized the presence of the girl, turned and said to her “you’re free now.” With that, he rushed to catch up with the departing villagers.

To be continued...