Beyond the Wall
By lonewriter
- 487 reads
Beyond The Wall
It's been over eight years since I seen this place. The car door closes
behind me. A heavyhearted sensation rushes through. It's been over
eight years since they killed M&;M. The night was bitter cold, snow
dancing in the air with dreamlike visibility. M&;M walked into an
ambushed that took his life but changed mine. A night I want to forget
but remember. How I wished I had never been born before that night. And
how quickly, I wanted to live afterward. I've been searching through
textbooks and religions. And it hurts to know, the ones you love never
seem to stay where they are. My father left without a trace, without a
father and son smile, a goodbye pat on my head. I don't know where he
is and no one I know, knows his whereabouts. Perhaps, he had gone to
some distant unmarked shallow grave, alongside a seldom-used dirt road.
And my friends, they had since scattered like the clouds after the rain
and eventually, just the same disappeared.
The old neighborhood, how it changed over the years, and what was real
then are now memories. Some memories are beautiful, the ones you want
to hold on to but will be erase by time. Then there are memories you
wished you never lived. But these never goes away and dances at night
around your head waiting to terrorize you in your dream. There is
nothing left in the neighborhood but the community center. Like an old
war torn veteran, the center seems lonely, depressed, and wounded. I
recalled it once filled with little people, full of songs, a voice, and
a soul. Weeds untouched for years act as like graffiti on cracked
sidewalks. And all the houses where we grew up in bulldozed to piles of
concrete slabs and twisted metals. No smell of people or of motor oil.
No children running in the streets. I take a deep breath. My childhood
community once filled with civilization had been demolished. What
happened? I didn't know. At the moment, at least one thing still
nourishes me. The old electrical box where I once played near as I
waited for my school bus still stood firmly at the corner of 4th and
Bryant. And the little tree, I smile. The little tree where I once
climbed was no longer a baby. I missed the tree, my listening tree that
listened to all my troubles. The tree never yelled at me or cursed me.
It never once raised one of its branches to strike me for my
mistakes.
I walk to and stand on the box and raise my arms into the air. People
drives by and stares at me with interest. Perhaps, they think I am
troubled man. I close my eyes and raise my arms into the air to catch a
breeze but there is none. Through my closed eyes I could see the sun
beating on my eyelids forming an orange cloud of darkness. Darkness you
see with your eyes closed staring at the sun. A darkness that we're not
used to. A darkness that feels like a semi truck is headed straight at
us. That thought terrorizes my mind. I wanted to open my eyes but
decide not to because I know I might never be here again. A few long
seconds later, the darkness dances away. Then in sequences one after
another stars, moon, and clouds appear. Beneath those clouds closer and
closer to the ground, I see what it seems little people playing
backyard football. It feels like I found something I left here a long,
long time ago.
"Over here I am open!" Chao yelled at me, his hands in the air ready
for the football. The defender saw him and closed in. Chao threw his
hands down disappointed and ran toward the other side of the end
zone.
People were zigzagging in and out of my view. Everyone on my team
seemed to be shouting at me for the football. For a moment there was a
nice throwing lane between Chao and I. I threw him the ball. It
spiraled toward Chao. I could see the concentration in his eyes. This
was going to be a touchdown. Suddenly, a defender's hand came into view
and knocked the football to the grass. It bounced to a halt. I looked
up and everyone on the team had a frown. The defense shouted, "4th
down!"
"I was opened man!" Cheng said to me.
"So was I!" said Doua. "Let me be QB, you throw too damn slow. This is
4th down! If we get a touchdown we win. I don't want another tie
breaker."
I didn't have the strongest arms or was the most athletic for football
but I knew the game. That's why most of the guys on the team wanted me
as QB. "Huddle! Huddle!" I called out.
"Not another one." Doua said with disapproval.
I didn't care what he thought. I wanted to win as much as he did. We
formed a small circle as put my left palm in the middle of the circle
away for any spying eyes. The touchdown line was twenty feet away. I
drew the play with my right index finger and said. "Chao, you and your
brother Little Cha lined up on the left of me. Doua, Cheng, and Meng
you guys line up on my right." I plotted their positions with my three
inner fingers. Cheng being the tallest was my middle finger. "Ok, Chao
when I call out "Down" you go into motion around me. Soon as you get to
Cheng, I'll hike the football. Little Cha you run straight into the end
zone. Once there, take your defender to the left end. I'll look for you
the whole way. Cheng you guys run straight up. Go pass the touchdown
line and break to the left. Chao, those guys will be shielding you from
your defender. Look for the ball. I am throwing it to you."
We broke the huddle. The defenders were Laotian boys from the
neighborhood. Most of them were bigger then us. They were waiting for
us at the line. I wasn't sure if we could beat them today. We beaten
them before but today they had a few new guys. We didn't like them and
they didn't really like us either. They called us "Meo" pronounced like
a cat's cry. In Laos that's what Native Laos referred the Hmong to.
It's similar to blacks being called mans.
We lineup at the line of scrimmage and looked at our defender. They
were ready and so were we. The defenses were deploying a man-to-man
coverage scheme with one safety. We called the perfect play. I knew it.
"Ready! Down!" Chao looked away from his defender and went into motion
behind and around to the right side toward Cheng. The Laos team called
out to each other in their language. I didn't care. Chao disappeared
from the view of his defender.
"Hutch!" I yelled. The line of scrimmages bended like a rubber band
forward toward the goal line. I kept my eyes on Little Cha to look off
the defense. It worked; they all pay more attention in his direction.
Then Doua, Cheng, and Meng broke left. They blocked off Chao's
defender. The safety yelled out some Laos words but it was too late.
Chao was wide open. I launched the football smoothly and accurately as
I could. The football spun awkwardly out of balance into Chao's
hands.
"Touchdown!" We yelled.
Then I sang the best I could. "We are the champions. My friend and I,
we'll keep on fighting till the end!" The only verse I knew from the
song. The defense looked exhausted and disappointed. They demanded
another game but we weren't interest it. The sun was about to dip
beneath the western horizon. Beside, we knew M&;M needed to get
home. We walked away from the field like cowboys walking into town. We
covered the width of the sidewalk and spilled onto the grass. Chao was
in the center. He caught the winning touchdown. His little brother Cha
followed behind the rest of us. Everybody was talking out of turn,
telling his own version of the last winning play. In the mist of our
conversation, I heard my heart saying with a smile, "This is the best
day of my life."
We reached the corner and like river forming streams we each split from
the group. When I reached the corner of my street where the old
electrical box stood. I was alone. I was the last one. I will be
thirteen soon. I stopped there to reflect the game. I stood on the box,
closed my eyes, and clinched tightly to the football. I wished to be a
football star; no I wanted less then that. I wished the joy experienced
a while ago to last as long as the dinosaur bones we studied at school.
As much as I wanted and wished for, I knew nothing would last. I knew I
couldn't stop the days from turning nights. I knew I couldn't stop my
parents from fighting. I knew I couldn't go through this winter without
a new jacket. I knew my life ahead would be in heavy weather.
Farther and farther from the ground, gradually I see myself turned into
a dot. Then clouds, moon, and stars come into view and slowly sink
behind the orange darkness. I open my eyes and tear seeps from them.
Some drips to the corner of my mouth. They had an aching flavor. The
taste turns into thoughts. How beautiful the day I threw that
touchdown. How I forgot what my father looked like. How desperately I
tried to remember his face. If I concentrate well enough his face
flashes before me. But just as quickly it disappears or is disfigures
and then everything goes blank. And the time he took us fishing in
Golden Valley, how my sister and I fought for who should carry the
tackle box and poles. How desperate we wanted him to love and be proud
of us. How sad we never knew if he was ever proud or loved us. My
friends I trusted with my life. Away from home they were my family. We
were the warriors of poverty. We were brothers fighting to live,
looking forward to die. Life was hell on the streets. But nothing came
between us. The smokes, beers, and women we shared. Moments I treasured
hidden beneath my heart away from the passing of time. I take a deep
breath to cuddle my sinking heart. I didn't come here to cry. I come
here as I promised long ago. I come to write about M&;M and Chao.
They were my best friends they were more then my brothers. I step off
the electrical box and reach for my laptop.
***
It's ten on a Saturday night and regular sons were at home with their
families, safe and secured. Not us, tonight was special as we gathered
to honor M&;M, whom left us two years ago. In the dimly lit parking
lot, we stood side by side leaning on Chewy's beat up rusted Toyota
Celica. The unleaded indicator beyond the E for empty, the warning
light blinks when we hit potholes coming here. Other times we gathered
to share a few Old English and a joint or two. Not that we like malt
liquor but that it was cheap and that's what the blacks drink. Sometime
there's nothing to drink or smoke. I didn't really care; it's better
then being at home. I like hanging out here because once the alcohol or
weed sunk in, our minds are full of dreams. Often we came up with great
solutions to real life crisis. The problem was, no one ever remembered
these solutions once the weed and beer evaporated from us.
After my first 40oz of Old English, all I thought was one day making a
lot of money and owning a log cabin with some land in the mountains of
Montana. Some place near Missoula. Places Chewy talked about. The
places I read about in Norman McLean's novel, "A Rivers Runs Through
It." Chewy's Hmong name is Kong. He had lived in Missoula Montana until
his family moved here five years ago so they could get welfare. We
named him Chewy because he didn't smoke but chewed tobacco, his
favorites Copenhagen. I tried it before. It nearly killed me. Chewy
didn't explain that I was supposed to spit out the juice. I was too
tough to ask. I see it on cowboy movies and it's pretty simple, I
thought. I swallowed most of it. I spent the next fifteen minutes with
my head out the window and decorated Highway 94 with whatever was in my
stomach.
"Just imagine one day we all rich. We be having family picnic, yall
know. We all pull-up rich with fancy cars and wearing nice white
suits." I drew for them with my intoxicated imagination. But no one
seemed to notice my saying. I knew they heard this before. Most didn't
think it could happen to people like us. I felt disappointed at the
moment but hopeful. "Yo, Chewy tell us another Montana story?"
"Yeah, tell us about the time yall tried to steal that fat elk and got
caught." Chao suggested with a smile.
"Hold on yall," Chewy took a long drag, the end of the joint burned
amber red, smoke smoldered with excitements. Then held his breathe and
handed the joint to Chao. Chao wetted one finger with beer and
carefully applied it around the burning end of the joint to slow the
burn. Then took a drag himself. Chewy exhaled, coughing like he was
sick.
"Dang, he got a good hitI" I announced. Everyone except Chewy
laughed.
Chewy gathered himself and took a sip from his bottle and said to me.
"Damn, IQ why you always talking that shit." He did a 180 and pointed
his bottle toward the wall behind us. You know damn well we ain't neva
gonna get beyond them wall. Look at M&;M, the biggest dreamer in the
world. He's dead." Chewy ended the sentence with a snap of his head at
me.
My Hmong name was Leng but I preferred IQ. I was the only one in the
gang with glasses. I didn't mind. I looked smart with them. I still
managed to stay in school at least 3 days a week. I wouldn't miss those
three English classes. No beer or weed could stop me from attending. I
promised M&;M and Chao I'd write about them. I told them I would
tell the world about us. On hot summer days while the gang was out
drinking underneath some shades. I read at the library. Reading let me
live the lives of people outside the ghetto. They live the life I wish
I had. That's where I learned I needed to go beyond the wall. Here we
are standing side by side in this secluded parking lot, separated from
our American Dreams. Separated by a white concrete wall, a concrete
wall that ran along interstate Highway 94, separating the ghetto from
the prosperity of downtown Minneapolis. A wall created by the white man
who promised the Hmong fruits and pastures when the white man needed
our help to protect their interests. Promises that bloomed nothing but
bloodshed and wandering soul longing for love ones. The white man left
us behind without care. No sympathy that we would be exterminated like
pests after the white man closed the book on us. Once we found our way
here. The white man threw us in the ghetto with the gangs and the
drugs.
Our homes, the north side project; fragment infested homes and broken
down apartments. Garbage flooded the streets. Giant cockroaches tumbled
and crept through the damp grass at night, looking for food, doing
their things to survive like us. The sun never shines on our side of
town, a primitive place where only the strong survive and you didn't
know when you would die. Where you need all the respect you can get and
a dog isn't a man's best friend but a gun.
We had our own reasons for being out so late all the nights. Chao, he
left home long ago when he knew his mother couldn't provide for the
kids. If figured if he could surive on the streets. His mother would
have one less mouth to feed. Now and then he didn't care if we stay
till dusk. If the person he was living with hanged out all night,
that's what he would do. Chao didn't have much choice and didn't ask
for much. Most time his meals consisted of leftover from people's
plates. For him being lucky is crashing on an aged mattress covering
the cold floor of someone's basement. But nothing good came easy for
him. In those cold basements, Chao often had to combat roaches that
scavenged blindly in the dark unto him. He said of how annoying such
nasty little creature with no respect crawling all over you in the dark
like that. There were times when he was too damn tired and mistaken a
roach for a mosquitoes. He would smack the damn roach and it got all
over him. You got to know the differences between the two he warned
us.
For myself, I am here because I wanted to be away from my parents. "Why
can't you be like your cousins who wear decent haircuts? They don't
smoke or drink! Why can't you be like them! If we knew you'd turn out
the way you are now. We fed you to the tigers long ago! We wouldn't
even bother feeding you or carrying you to America!" They would yell at
me.
I considered myself a deep thinker. I think I used to be innocent and
far more advanced then other kids at school until my parents and I lost
interests in each other. I used to listen and pay attention to them.
But as I gotten older my parents just doesn't seem to understand my
struggle of trying to be Hmong and White. I preferred the lifestyle of
the whites because as I learned from TV and at school. The white always
seem to have everything, nice home, money, and a car. I didn't have any
of those. I became sick of them bitching about money and food. I was
sick of them splitting and throwing fists at each other. I was sick of
getting beaten with broomstick.
"Naw yall, we ain't here to diss each other. Said, Chao with authority.
"We here to honor M&;M, one of our brother. Now let's pour a 40 for
M&;M before we forget."
Chao was shorter then me, shorter then all of us but stronger. He was
perhaps the toughest in the gang. He didn't speak much but when he did,
it made the most sense. You can say he was a born leader but born at
the wrong time, to a wrong world just like M&;M. I missed M&;M;
he was like my big brother but younger then me. I trusted him and Chao
the most. They were the first to form the gang. Chao didn't have a
father like I said and M&;M didn't have anybody but the clothes on
his back. No, M&;M has more then all of us. He had a head full of
dreams. He taught me how to dream in the ghetto. Even though we all
knew it was dangerous to dream in the ghetto. Not many dreamers made it
out alive, not even M&;M. But he never stopped trying.
***
M&;M's Hmong name was Meng; we nicknamed him Mighty Meng because of
his role in the gang. But he didn't like mighty, he preferred M&;M.
M&;M left home at fourteen. Old enough to hold a summer job picking
up trash around the city park and recreation centers. M&;M told us
why he left home. I remembered it like a bad trip.
M&;M and his three older brothers shared the same room in their
small project home. They had fights before as all children do but never
like this. On Sunday night January twenty first, a couple of days
before Christmas, and tensions were mounting among the boys about free
gifts from the Salvation Army. Every Christmas since they had been
receiving toys, the boys have had the most fights this time of the
year. Naturally, M&;M just thought they were jealous of what he was
getting. Though he did notice he was picked on more frequently the past
few years. He didn't understand why he was darker then his three
brothers or why he was skinny and they were fat. The two older brothers
Tou and Peng shared a bunk bed. The one that picked on him the most was
Ger. He had a single bed to himself. Ger was older then M&;M but
younger then the other two. The older brothers had drawers for their
clothes. M&;M used two cardboard boxes for his, one for shirt and
the other for pants. M&;M had an air mattress as his bed on the cold
tile floor. He didn't have an iron so he placed his pants neatly under
his mattress to smooth out the wrinkles overnight. Often M&;M waked
to cockroaches crawling on his face. It's sickening but where else can
he sleep. M&;M had two good pair of socks he wore one for two days
while the other pair dry on the heater. The older brothers wore shoes
from Target and Foot Locker. He got his Pro Wings from the Payless on
Broadway Ave. He didn't mind, he never asked for much.
As he was getting ready for bed, Ger said to him. "Damn boy go wash
your stinkin feet. How can you live with those feet, smells like horse
crap?"
M&;M was thirteen going on to be fourteen in May. Living in the
ghetto he grew up fast and was a man of his own. "Ger, I just took a
fucken shower!"
"People with feet like yours should get it cut off." Ger said smartly
looking at the older brothers for praise.
"Maybe the smell is from your fat ass!" M&;M responded.
"Shut the hell up before I come over there and knock the smell of off
you."
"Come on over and try fat ass. I am sick of you threaten me."
Ger hopped off his bed. M&;M stood still anticipating Ger. "You
better sit your ass down boy!" Ger demanded, looking down at
M&;M.
Ger was much wider and taller then M&;M. M&;M looked at him in
the eyes. "Don't make me beat the fat out of you."
Peng and Tou sat on their bunk bed looking at the two. They looked
offended because they were fat like Ger. They had always been jealous
that M&;M was skinny and attracted more girls then them. Ger shoved
M&;M's chest, M&;M tripped on his mattress and felt backward like
a domino. The three older brothers laughed hysterically at him. M&;M
gathered himself, got up on his mattress, and swung as hard as he could
with his bony fist at Ger's jaw. It didn't deterred Ger as he grabbed
M&;M and they started wrestling on the mattress. All M&;M saw
were fists flying toward his face. Tou and Peng had jumped in. They
kicked him like a little ball.
"Bitch you think you our brother? You ain't shit but a little bitch we
found on the street! My mom and dad felt sorry for yo ass so they took
you in. But it's a mistake and we about to make it right. Always trying
to make us look bad with your fucken grades and doing chores for my
parents. They never considered you a son. You know that boy!" Ger
informed him between punches.
M&;M heard this and stopped fighting back, just covered his face.
Some how he knew it was true. He wasn't their little brother. All three
were beating the shit out of him like all brothers would to an
outsider. Everything is cleared now. He was one who never got special
treatments from the parents. No drawers, no bed, no good shoes, no left
over dinner saved for him, and no allowances. He was the one who got
the whipping even when it weren't his faults. He was the outsider. "You
win, you win! Get the fuck of off me!" M&;M pleaded.
The door jarred opened; M&;M peeked and saw his once real mother
looking at them. She closed the door. M&;M struggled to get free but
useless. His once old man came into the room casually with the old lady
behind him. He waited a few long seconds then shouted at the boys. The
fat brothers got off him and went back to their beds. M&;M cried,
curled up on his deflated mattress snuggling his blooded blanket. The
old man looked down at M&;M and asked in the Hmong tongue, "Who
asked you to fight?"
M&;M didn't answered. He knew it didn't matter what he had to say.
It wouldn't make a bit of difference.
"I just asked him nicely to go washed his feet because it stink. He
just started calling us names so we beat him up." Ger claimed politely
to his father.
The old man looked around the room then inside the closet. He grabbed
an unoccupied aluminum cloth hanger. The old man was pissed. He and the
old lady was smoking opium in their room and was disturbed. He turned
to M&;M who had nothing on but an aged soccer short covering his
private parts, hiding on the mattress. The hanger waving in his hand,
the old man said, "How many times have I told you about washing your
feet?" He followed those words with a strike to the uncovered part of
M&;M's head. M&;M covered it with is left hand and quickly
smolder the wound. The old man smacked M&;M at different places
where it wasn't protected. M&;M's hands were playing a game of cat
and mouse with the painful hanger. After each strike to M&;M's
beaten body the old man followed with a few words of how M&;M should
live life. After awhile the abused hanger bended out of shape and was
not effective.
M&;M never asked for much in his life. All M&;M ever wanted was
someone to tell him he was loved, to pat his back for his good grades,
to be proud of him for doing all the household chores. He didn't even
eat much; he knew the fat brothers would complain. Instead, all he ever
received was sink full of dishes, ridicules, cheap shoes; he had been
living like an orphan. M&;M had decided, sat up, threw away his
blanket, blood flowed from his nose, hanger marks on his arms and legs.
His eyes puffy from the punches they took and tears cried. He
challenged the old man. "You want to beat me? Beat me, it doesn't
hurt!"
"You are tough." The old man responded and left the room.
Everyone looked at M&;M. The fat brothers had faces of satisfaction.
His once old lady stood in the doorway with her impatience hands
resting on her hip. Her eyebrows came together in her face. She looked
disgusted at M&;M.
Moments later the old man returned with a leather belt and a four feet
long 2/4. He threw the 2/4 on the floor. It bounced to a halt. Then
folded the belt in half. "Kneel on the wood right now! I am going to
give you a beating. You wish you were dead!" The old man told.
M&;M refused to obey his ordered. The old man raised his right hand
with belt into the air casting a shadow of death into the small room.
"Kneel right now you bastard! I am disgusted of your disobedience." He
proclaimed. Then whipped M&;M's back with the leather belt. It shot
a smacking sound that broke the crispy winter night.
"Ow-wee!" Mom, where are you! Why did you bring me to this world?
Please help me! Please help me, I am dying!" M&;M begged loudly to
his real mother's spirit. Slowly, from his mattress he kneeled on the
2/4 with arms on his side.
The old lady afraid of M&;M's mother's spirit covered her face and
left the room. The fat brothers looked on. The old man stood in front
of him like a professor lecturing M&;M with each word that is
followed by a whip to M&;M's broken body. After several long
minutes, each time the old man swung M&;M adjusted and swayed his
body away from the belt to ease the nasty pain. "You're not so tough
are you?" The old man asked.
After fifteen minutes of beating, M&;M felt unworthy and
embarrassed, a grown boy getting whipped like this in front of these
devils. He didn't used to mind but now that he's older, what if words
got around he's still getting whipped. No girl would want to date a man
who's treated like this. He couldn't cry anymore, the tears had run
dry. Nothing left of him but his troubled soul and a headache from
sucking air. The grain on the 2/4 had engraved into his kneecaps. His
heart was numb. He folded his hands together and begged the old man for
forgiveness. "Please, please, I won't do it again. You are right. I am
a bad son. I'll go wash my feet."
The old man smiled, gave M&;M a few more painful belts and said,
"Don't you ever fight with my boys or call them names ever again. Else
you will not live long, you hear!"
"Yes, I won't ever do it again." M&;M agreed.
The old man lower the belt, satisfied he had done well in his sermon.
He looked at the fat brothers; they were pleased and nodded with
approvals. The old man, "Go wash those stinken feet before I change my
mind."
There were no strength in his knees and he felt nothing beyond them.
M&;M got up from the 2/4 and just as soon staggered like an injured
prey back to the floor. The family saw this and the room were instantly
filled with a fat wicked roar of laughter. M&;M mustered all the
strength he could and got back up, found his semi-wet towel, and headed
for the bathroom. The old man helped M&;M's pace with a belt across
his behind. The fat brothers laughed and snorted.
The shower was no easy task. He felt numbness beyond his knees and the
painful water splashing on his wounds. No wounds was more painful then
the realization of his loneliness in the world. He felt he did not
belong and that there are some serious questions to be dealt with. His
tears blended with this blood, as they and his thoughts slowly drained
like a whirlpool into darkness beneath.
By faith, two days later M&;M saw Chia on her way home from the
oriental store. She had been nice to him and had stood up for him
before when she was around during times of trouble. He went up to her
and introduced. "Hi, this is Meng, Chee and Kou's son, we lived at 4th
and Dupont."
"Oh, you have grown. I almost didn't recognize you son."
M&;M felt wonderful someone referred him as a son. It didn't matter
who said it. It still felt like a million dollar. "Aunty, do you know
who my real parents were?" He asked politely.
Surprised, she searched for words with sadness in her eyes. She dropped
her bags and rubbed her chin a few long seconds with her shaking hand
beneath her glove. "What's the matter? Chee and Kou are your
parents."
M&;M took off his sunglasses to show her the tribulation he had gone
through. What she saw, she already knew. She knew about his struggle.
She knew his life like a Paj Ntaub. All the wrong designs and stitches,
all the wrong threads in M&;M's life. She broke into tears. "Oh,
Meng please forgive me. I couldn't help you son."
She placed her hands around his head and kissed it gently. They cried
together in the middle of the snow-covered housing project. Their tears
sprinkled the snow beneath. The salty tears laden with stories fell on
the snow. The snow melted to their stories. She looked the young man in
the eyes and in between her womanly cry told him. "Meng your mother had
long left us."
"We were about to cross the Mekong River. We met your mother on the
riverbank waiting for someone to help her. Your mother didn't have any
money and couldn't pay for the two of you. Not only that there was no
room on board the two canoes. We knew the Vietnamese was close on our
trail. You were just a baby. Because we couldn't help her, your mother
begged us to take you to America instead. She said your father's was
Vang Thao, a soldier working with the American based in Long Cheng. If
we could get you across we would be rewarded. She begged and begged.
She had been there two weeks and couldn't get across. Her milk was
running out and you would die soon. I couldn't stand it anymore and
offered to have you on my laps. The people on the canoes protested the
load was too heavy already and chances are we would be sink by the
rough waters." She stopped to catch her breath.
"Then what happened next?" He demanded.
"She handed you over to me anyway and said your name was Meng."
M&;M nodded for more information. Images of his parents ran through
his mind. Theirs loving eyes, smiles, laughter, hugs, and shielding
arms protecting him.
She continued. "We heard distant gunshots in the air, those shots
settled our debate and the people allowed you in. I held you in my arms
as we drifted away from your mother. She cried and waved good-bye. She
came into the river as far as her waist. Her figure got smaller and
smaller as we drifted farther onto the Thai's border. I kept my eyes on
her but she disappeared in the dark. Then suddenly we heard her
screamed in horror across the river, above the mighty waters. What ever
those Vietnamese did to your mother. I didn't want to know but as a
woman I knew. I remembered having so much compassion for you and your
mother. She was so young and beautiful. A good hour had passed as we
waited on the Thai's side for dawn to break. Then we heard multiple
shots fired and I knew they had finally killed your mother."
M&;M broke into a storm of tears mourning his mother's death. He
melted onto the frozen snow and pounded the ice with his bare fists.
"Mom, mom, I love you mom! You have died and no one loved me, mom. Mom,
mom I am alone and heartbroken!"
The aunt tried to stop and pulled him up. Hmong people shouldn't mourn
in public. M&;M didn't feel a thing pulling on him. All he felt was
the dissatisfaction in his heart. "Mom, mom, why have you left me all
alone, mom. Why didn't you let me die with you, mom? Mom, mom, I missed
you mom. Mom, mom I missed you, mom!"
Embarrassed, the aunt said. "If you don't stop crying I won't tell you
another thing!"
M&;M froze in his track. Slowly breathing on the snow, hands
bleeding, he reached into his pocket for a smoke. He sat up and started
puffing away the tears in his heart.
I must bring this grocery home. Come with me and I'll tell you the
rest. M&;M stood up slowly, dusted the snow and ice off of him. The
aunt reached for the bags and M&;M asked if he could carry it for
her. She said, "Sure."
M&;M followed her to her house on 5th and Aldrich. The family car
parked outside, hood opened, half the components were missing. Tools
and motor oil surrounded front of the car. The house was full of little
faces running around, some crying. Her husband sat on the sofa with
remote in his hand, yelling at the children to stop running. They
stopped. Boots and shoes littered the front entrance and the first two
steps on the stair leading up. "David, this is Meng, Chee and Kou's
son." She introduced to her husband.
David looked up at M&;M and back to his TV. M&;M wanted to go
shake his hand but felt unwelcome. "Meng, the house is messy, hope you
don't mind. Placed your shoes where you can." Pointing to the direction
of all the other shoes.
"Oh, it's not messy at all" M&;M replied.
"Have a seat and I'll be right there." Showing him the family room
flooded with toys, books, and markers.
"What took you so long?" David demanded in a harsh tone.
"Meng ran into me on the way home. He wanted to know about his mother.
Meng has a real mother not Chee. The one I told you about." She said
sweetly.
"The kids are starving. Did you -"?
"I got you your favorites Red Bull energy drink." She interrupted
him.
David knew that meant the when the kids are asleep he would get some.
He eased up and soaked back into the aged sofa. From that moment on he
spoke softly to the kids who were running again. M&;M knew what it
meant too but acted like one of the kid. The aunt felt she had done
well taming her man and was proudly nodding in the kitchen, getting
things ready. M&;M sat at the end of the sofa looking into the
dinning area and nowhere else.
Moments later she came in and sat next to Cha. He rocked back and fort
like listening to music. She began, "When we got to camp Ban Vinai. You
and I lived with my older sister Chee and her family as I locate for
your father. No one in the entire camp knew or heard of him. I realized
your mother made up the story about your father and the reward so we
would take you along. I was sixteen and took care of you as long and as
well I could. I became alone and no Hmong man would court me because
they thought I was a widow. Chee and Kou couldn't make any more
children. However, they heard in America the more children you have the
more money you will receive from the government. They decided to take
you in as their own. They promised me they'd take good care of you. I
didn't trust them. They were abusive and addicted to opium but I had
little choice. A few months later I married your uncle David.
"So my father, there was no father?" M&;M asked.
"At that time soldiers had fling with young girls is all I can tell
you." She answered.
"What did my mother look like?"
"Meng, it's been so long. I am sorry. All I could remembered was that
was she was young and very pretty."
"Your water is boiling!" David interrupted.
The older children rushed to the eating table. She looked at David with
anger. He pretended not to see her. M&;M understood David didn't
want him around. After he heard the story of his turbulence life
unfolded. M&;M wanted to cry, he felt lost, angered, frustrated,
betrayed, he felt like smacking David in the face. But instead raised
to his feet and said, "It's getting late and I must go. Thank you for
all that you have done. You saved my life."
"I am sorry all these things had happened to you. You must know that I
did what I could. I have felt bad all these years seeing you live a
terrible life. I feel better now that I told you the truth. You must
become successful and prove people wrong. Don't take anything for
granted Meng." She offered.
M&;M got up and headed for the door. "Won't you stay for dinner? I
am making Pho. The water is about ready."
"I must go now. Thanks for the offer anyway." M&;M declined as he
settled back into his shoes. The door closed behind him and he could
hear the aunt bitching at her husband for his insensitivity.
***
Chao and I finish pouring the 40 for M&;M along the brown grass.
Come back to the group and Chao says, "Yaw know what? M&;M used to
say one day when the guns are put away in Laos. He's gonna go back and
build that orphanage. He was gonna give those orphans a chance the live
the life he never had. He was gonna give them all the love he never
saw. He was -" Chao begins to cries.
I don't usually see him cry. Most gangsters don't cry. But after many
years of drinking I guess that stuff makes you pretty depress. And
sometime it just happens. Doesn't matter, tears just force their way
out. I understand and pad his shoulder, "It's alright brother. M&;M
is with us always."
Chao swipes the tears away. "I just wished I had told him it was a hell
of a dream. That if he did that I would be there with him. I just wish
I told them that. I just hope he know that's how I felt."
Chewy shows little emotions. He sips his bottle and looks at the empty
sky. Chao walks to the back of the car and sat there. He head draws to
the pavement and quietly smokes his cigarette. I feel like crying
myself but didn't. Maybe there isn't enough beer in me yet. I empty my
bottle; open another and lay on top the hood. The hood was still warm,
it reminds me of M&;M's smile.
He used to tell us. He told like a poet, in the middle of his poem he
stopped. Reorganized his thoughts and tried again and again, each time
more perfect, more in dept. When all his thoughts and words came
together, he stood with beer in hand and delivered. "We are like
butterflies dancing in the wind. We must get beyond the wall. On our
side of the wall, storms rolled in and out. The winds are too strong.
No sunshine or flower to colonized. Sooner of later we all will die.
The wall is a mile high. For some it might be shorter. Others it might
be higher. Beyond the wall lies endless sea of flowers waiting for us.
Beyond the wall the sun is bright. Where rainbow kisses the skies. And
opportunity touches everyone's life."
I didn't know how M&;M figured out that beyond the wall we had
opportunities. From my reading about white people at the library, what
he said was true. We must get out of the ghetto if we wanted to live
life and not the other way around. I read about how Elvis was a poor
kid. Some folks labeled him a white trash. Parents warned their kids to
shy away from him. Then one day a musician spared a few moments and
helped Elvis tuned his second hands guitar. A few years later, Elvis
became the superstar that he is and won millions of hearts across
America. All he needed was an opportunity, just like us.
M&;M had been on his own for five years before he died. During those
five years a lot had changed. The old man has gone AWOL on the old
lady. The older two fat brothers, Peng and Tou had been killed in a car
crash on their way from Mystic Lake Casino. Ger the youngest had gone
to school in Wisconsin and seldom visited his aged mother. The old lady
alone now had been place in a senior complex in the center of the
project. She has been stricken with illness and her eyes weaken from
years of opium and poor diet. M&;M used to visit her once a month
when he was still with us. Sometime he brought her rice cake and
coconut juice. I visited her with him on one occasion and that was the
last. She bitched at us and asked really stupid questions. Just lied on
her bed and asked about her dead sons. Why they had to die and not
people like M&;M and myself. Who she thought was worthless, we are
nothing but a waste to society. M&;M just laughed at her. He even
called her mom. Me, I wouldn't even give a damn. If I were M&;M, I'd
tell her she could go to hell for treating me like shit.
"Yo M&;M, why you tripping man? She treated you like a dog and still
does. Why you visiting her man?" I used to ask him.
"I don't know dawg? I guess you ain't got hate somebody if they don't
love you back. I mean I never did have a mother. It makes me happy to
see that I am trying. I am trying to imagine that she's my mother. She
doesn't have anybody. Besides yaw, I don't have anyone either."
After that I thought about my mother. I felt bad of all the times I
took for granted just because my mother was always around. I understood
now. There were many things I thought I knew about M&;M that I
didn't. I guess I didn't live his life and couldn't feel what he was
going through. All the things I thought I knew. I am learning again.
The midwinter night M&;M left us it was cold. I should of known,
just a few days from Christmas. Seemed all M&;M back luck always
happened this time of the year. Snow covered the street. Streetlights
cast shadows onto snowflakes falling. Blizzard warning tops the stories
on the news. I didn't want him to drop off the present but M&;M
insisted. We were staying at M&;M and Chao's apartment about ten
miles south of the project. Chao and the rest of the guys agreed with
me. It was roads were bad, it was way too slippery for travel. M&;M
asked, "Yo Chewy, could you give me a lift by the old lady?"
Chewy acted like he hasn't heard a word. We acted the same way in
silence. M&;M asked again, "Yo Chewy, so can I get a fuckin
lift!"
"Yea, hold on man. Let me finished this beer aight."
M&;M finished wrapping the gift in brown paper bag. "I got her one
of them Hmong radio. This way she can listen to Hmong news and music.
This is the shit present she's been asking for." He told
everyone.
We looked at him and smiled. We were happy he was happy. Everyone liked
him. He let us hang out at his joint twenty four seven. Runaway girls
liked him too. Every time we get a new batch of runaways they asked
about him first. He got that dark James Dean look. He was always nice
to everyone and soft spoken when he wanted to. It was tough to refused
his request because he always come through for others. "Yaw ready?
Who's all going?" Chewy asked.
"IQ, you coming with us? M&;M asked me.
"Yea, I want to come along." I said without thinking.
"Yo M, tell the old lady I said hi." Chao said from where he had been
sitting for the last thirty minutes or so cleaning his shiny 357.
"Will do." M&;M replied as we headed out.
"Hey M, I hate to tell you this but bring that 9mm in the rice sack.
You know how I feel about yo Christmas taboo. Hurry back so we could
fire up this weed here aight." Chao offered us before I made thru the
door.
M&;M and Chewy was outside and didn't hear Chao. "M&;M, Chao said
we should bring the 9mm." I reported to them.
"Hrmm, aight. It's in the rice sack."
"I know". I told him and came back for it. I searched and found the 9mm
loaded, wrapped in gloves, sealed in a plastic Ziploc bag.
"Too much fucken snow in the winter. Too damn hot in the summer." Chewy
complained wiping the snow off of this car.
"M&;M and I laughed." It would be the last time we ever laughed
together.
We parked on the street, windows fogged but you could still see. "Ya
want to come inside? It's colder then a muthafuck out here." M&;M
offered.
"Naw, it's cool." Chewy and I both answered at the same time. M&;M
understood we didn't like his old lady, tugged the gift in his coat,
and shut the door behind him. Moment's later shots rang. They woke the
crispy holiday night.
"What ta fuck!" I said as I looked out the window. All I saw was his
fallen shadow, the gift flying in the air. I took the gun from my coat
pocket, cocked the hammer, and ran as fast I could toward M&;M. More
shots fired. Next, I saw two Hmong figures standing over him. They saw
me and took off. I tried to run faster but slipped and fell. My gun
went off. I got up and chased after them. The night was dark, the snow
was thick, and the two went different direction. I chose the one guy
who went to the left because I knew it was a dead end. I followed his
tracks best I could while the fresh snows tried to covered them.
Apparently, he didn't know he ran into a dead end. How ironic he ran to
the same wall M&;M was telling us about. The same wall we must get
beyond or else we would die. As I neared him I could hear his breathing
from behind a dumpster. Thank God for the snow I thought. Without it,
this guy would have gone without ghetto justice. "What's up now
motherfucka!" I surprised him. I aimed the gun into his face from a
safe distance.
He raised his hands into the air. "I didn't shoot him."
My heart beating fast, I knew this bastard. It was Dirty Lee, one of
the leaders of our rival. "You killed my brother muthafucka!" I
cried.
"I didn't shoot him."
"Who did?"
"Tiny G, Tiny G shot him! I told him not to-!"
Tiny G sounded like some underage punk these guys were using as
triggerman. I knew time was running out and the pigs would be here
soon. "Tell Tiny G. He's going down with you!"
"Please don't kill me!" Dirty Lee begged. "Don't shoot me!" He pleaded
in the Hmong tongue.
I didn't know if I should kill him or not. He looked pathetic. Other
thoughts were ringing in my head. What if the law catches me? What if
one of his boys avenge his death and killed me, surely I won't get
beyond this wall to my right? I would fail just like all the others who
tried to get beyond the wall. Surely, I would be another dead Hmong in
the paper. Paper, what about my dream of being a writer? By these
thoughts I felt like the right thing to do was let him go even thought
Dirty Lee had a reputation of back stab and cruelty among the gangs.
Even though, our philosophy in the gang was that if you drew a gun on a
Hmong. You better kill him. If you didn't he knew who you were and
would find you sooner or later. It's all part of the gangster life.
During those split seconds I had to make decisions that would determine
my future and who I will become. "Gawl damn! You got 3 seconds to run"
I offered him.
Unexpectedly, Dirty Lee splashed two arms full of snow at me. From
behind the cloud of snow, he launched at me like a starving grizzly
bear. I squeezed the trigger out of instinct into the dust of snow
between us. The sound of the gun bounced off the wall and echoed into
the ghetto. The bullet caught him somewhere on his right shoulder. His
body rocked back while coming forward onto me. His force knocked me to
the snow covered ground. My glasses and gun flew separate directions.
Dirty Lee crawled onto me like crawling out of drowning water. Working
his hands towards my neck. I kicked and punched him trying to free
myself. It was useless as he forcefully placed his angered hands around
my neck. "I am gonna kill ya, you little shit!" I heard from behind his
clinched teeth.
I had my right arm and hand trying to free my neck while punching his
rib cage with my left. I was able to twisted and turned, kicked and
punched from underneath him. Not much, but enough for him not to be
able to fully choke me to death. I was running out of options and
losing strength fast. I could see the white of his eyes. Dirty Lee
looked evil and determined; he did not look Hmong or like one of us who
were struggling in the ghetto. He looked like a product of the ghetto,
breed for the sole purpose of keeping the ghetto alive in
society.
I had to change strategy or die. "God let me live." I prayed. I wasn't
sure how to close my prayer. I had always felt like God never favor the
Hmong. And I never really believed there was a God until now. Suddenly,
before me his pink half frozen nose appeared. That's it; I'll bite his
nose off. I felt strongly that God had answered my earlier prayer.
Dirty Lee was surprised when let him choked me. However, I had a plan.
I quickly grabbed his head and pulled it toward mine. I sank my teeth
into his nose and ripped it off of his face. He instantly let go of my
neck, got up, and started searching for his nose where it once was. But
I couldn't see him clearly without my glasses.
"Arg!" Dirty Lee cried. "My nose, my nose!" His nose was missing so it
sounded weird.
I sat up, spitted out the nasty nose and started looking for the gun. I
was as blind as a bat, working my way with my naked hands searching for
anything metallic beneath the snow. I got something, the frame of my
glasses and pulled it out from the snow. I quickly cleared the snow off
of the lenses. "I really need to get contacts. Next time, I might not
be as lucky." I said to myself.
Just as I was mounting on my glasses, Dirty Lee kicked my left ribcage.
He kicked so hard he slipped and fell. Air depleted out of my lungs.
Never had I ever thirsted so much for air in my life. Fortunately, I
still had my glasses and managed to put them on. I could see that Dirty
Lee was still on the snow trying to get up, bleeding fast from where
his nose once was. I got to get up on my feet. I got to kill this
guy.
When I made it to my feet, Dirty Lee was up and waiting for me. His
left hand covered where his nose was. His right arm was out trying to
grab a hold of me. "Come on, let's dance!" Dirty Lee said. "I'm goanna
break you in half!"
I clinched my right hand into a fist. "Not in this lifetime!" I said.
"Let's dance!" We shifted our fighting stances to the left, then right.
He looked tired and weak but determine. Each time I faked a strike, he
would try to block with his right arm what looked like a giant claw.
Dirty Lee was going to die we both knew it. "Come on! What tha fuck are
you waiting for?" He spitted at me with blood and saliva.
I released my right fist into a half fist. I moved in, he clobbered me
with his right arm. But I blocked his deadly arm with my left and
struck his throat with my half fist. I heard his Adam's apple cracked.
Dirty Lee froze and dropped to his knees. I went behind him and wrapped
my right arms around his neck. I squeezed his neck as hard as I could,
clinching my teeth, looking at the wall. I felt so powerful killing
Dirty Lee and couldn't stop myself from squeezing tighter and tighter.
His hands tried to free his neck. But it was useless as his fingers one
by one slowly came undone. Then his arms dropped to the side. Somewhere
inside, I felt so strong, I felt like I could break down this wall. The
same feeling I had not long ago that God answered my prayer. A genuine
belief I could get beyond this wall. A self-conviction that I could
live the life I had been reading about.
I threw Dirty Lee against the wall another victim of the ghetto. I
scrambled through the snow and found the gun still warm by the
dumpster. I traced back to where M&;M was and kneeled beside him. He
was dead. I shivered. There seemed to be a smile on his face. At least
I wanted to believe there was one. I felt like he had gone to a better
place where his real mother had been longing for her son. His blood
seeped into the snow and steamed softly into the air. I heard siren in
the distant. "Yo, we gotta go!" Chewy shouted from the car. Chewy must
of placed the gift neatly between M&;M's arms. On the gift perfectly
legible, "Merry Christmas. Love, Meng."
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