The Melting Pot

by Christopher Cheng

  ‘Edward,’ implored Mother. ‘How dare you. To your room now.’

  I stomped up the stairs. I threw off my shirt. I slumped on the bed. I wrote these words. I will go to China just to escape her. I am going to bed hungry but I will not apologise.

  Thursday, 11 February

  I could not sleep last night, and not just because I was hungry. I am disgusted with myself. I could not tell Father but I needed to talk to Mother, she would understand. But to Mother it was more important for me to get to school. ‘When you get home Edward. Then we can talk and then you can apologise. Now go, please.’

  ‘It can’t wait.’

  ‘Please not now. I have had a bad night.’

  She had a bad night. My night was intolerable. I will apologise to Mother for my behaviour. I will apologise to Father for disobeying him. I will never apologise to Elizabeth.

  Friday, 12 February

  Elizabeth has told Mother what happened, or maybe Mother prised it out. She has apologised to her. Mother has told Elizabeth that she will not be able to work for us if she insists on causing disruption. Elizabeth apologised to me but I don’t believe it. I don’t think she really meant it.

  ‘Edward, you should have told me,’ said Mother.

  ‘I tried but you would not listen. You banished me upstairs and you insisted I apologise for something that I did not do. I could not apologise.’

  ‘True, that was an error on my part Edward but …’ Father interjected. ‘What Mother says is true and yes we should have listened to you but you should never ever, ever treat a woman with such disrespect. Yes we erred and we apologise for that.’

  All is calmer now but I cannot trust Elizabeth. She might be my cousin but she is a troublemaker and she does not like Chinese people I know by the way she talks. I was sneezing a lot today and if she was near she was telling me to stops spreading plague germs. And I know she thinks that people like me, the children of two races, are inferior. I know that some people say that the marriage of Chinese and European people will ‘clean’ the Chinese from the country. It will make them a better people but how can they think this way? They think that this is just like improving animals through the correct breeding. But those people are wrong. I adore having my Chinese father and my English mother. But do I fit into any of their lands?

  Saturday, 13 February

  A telegraph arrived from Fourth Uncle yesterday. He will await further instructions from Father about coming to work in the family store. Father is pleased. Mother is very pleased. My sisters are pleased. He will bring gifts. I am not pleased. Soon I will go to China.

  Monday, 15 February

  Cleaning and cleaning and more cleaning. That is all that was done today. We did not attend school today. There was too much to clean. The store, our rooms—our whole building had to be cleaned. Father has been so involved with all his preparations for some of the people travelling to China that we have left this task till the last minute. Every pot and pan, every jar was cleaned. Every corner of every room was swept spotless. Not a skerrick of dust remained, of that I am certain. Father even questioned us all on how the sweeping must be done.

  ‘With a broom,’ mumbled Elizabeth as we all stood around waiting for Father to finish the sentence.

  ‘Not just with a broom, aiee,’ Father said like an old Chinese man. He is very, very particular about this. ‘You sweep dirt into middle of room.’ He was very much back to his Chinese ways, ‘and never out the front door.’

  ‘Out the front door, or the back door, sweep around the edges into the middle, into the back, what does it matter?’ queried Elizabeth. Mother heard. She immediately drew Elizabeth aside.

  ‘This, Elizabeth, is of vital importance,’ she said. ‘According to custom and in our house you will follow these customs to the letter, to sweep the dirt out the front door you could be sweeping away one of the family and you might even sweep away the good fortune of the family.’ Elizabeth giggled. Mother raised her voice ever so slightly. She wasn’t being funny. ‘This is what Chinese people believe. This is what we believe. This is not questionable. Sweep dirt to the middle and then sweep out the back door.’ Elizabeth said no more, or giggled no more. She swept and cleaned and dusted ferociously, always to the middle and always out the back door. She put us to shame. She was really very efficient.

  Father had begun to hang red paper banners that had come from China. They were impressive New Year banners wishing good fortune and prosperity. Every possible wall space, above archways, everywhere was decorated.

  I was pleased when I saw that Elizabeth did not enjoy herself. She has never cleaned or scrubbed so hard in her life. At the end of the day when she left the house she was doing a lot of sighing.

  I was not surprised when Mother handed her a red packet. ‘For Chinese New Year,’ she said. And Mother also gave her some oranges and told her that what makes an orange special is the treasure inside.

  Very late this afternoon Father yelled in a high pitched squeal, ‘Blossoms. Where are blossoms? Did I not tell? Aiee. Oranges and blossoms. Where are blossoms?’ Mother called, ‘Has Father talked to you about collecting the blossoms?’

  ‘No,’ I replied.

  ‘Oh dear,’ was all that she could say. ‘I was sure he had arranged for blossoms,’ I knew we couldn’t have the celebration without the blossoms, especially with everything that is happening to Chinese people here. They are doubly important, these symbols of rebirth and new growth. My next task then for the afternoon was to run to Mr Lee. He had blossoms. And as I ran out the door Father’s voice followed … ‘Go now. No stop. No breathe even.’

  I ran. Mr Lee had them packaged and waiting ‘Thought you no come,’ he said as I rushed in the door. ‘Been wait all afternoon for you. What took so long?’ I picked up the bunch of blossoms and told him that Father forgot as I rushed towards the door. And then I remembered. I sat the bunch of blossoms on the stool by the door and went back to Mr Lee. I grabbed his hands and bowed three times. Kung Hey Fat Choi Mr Lee. Kung Hey Fat Choi.

  ‘Ah Chek Chee. You remember. You good son, very good son. Your Father very proud of you. He might not say but he very proud of you. Never forget the Chinese ways Chek Chee. You are Chinese, no matter what people say.’ And suddenly Mr Lee had slipped into my hands a red packet. ‘Dor jeh Mr Lee. Dor jeh.’

  I carried the blossoms to our store ever so carefully. Mother had prepared her largest vase for the blossoms.

  And in between all the cleaning and the dusting many guests came by, which is why the cleaning took so long. Father always seemed to be able to spend another short moment farewelling guests while we continued the cleaning duties. Many customers and families Father has assisted came to pay their respects, offer thanks and even present gifts. Father and Mother have been through this celebration many times and were well prepared with small red packets (actually red packets with small amounts of money inside) and plenty of sweets and treats and especially oranges to offer our guests. There was also a continual flow of cha from the kitchen. But Father and Mother were not the only ones offering the red packets—we children received red packets too. I do like Chinese New Year!

  We had dinner tonight as usual around the family table. Little Sister set the places but she forgot the special place. Quickly, before Father arrived I rushed to the cutlery draw and gathered an extra setting and squeezed this in at the end next to Father.

  ‘But I set the table just the way Mother likes it,’ she whimpered.

  ‘Don’t worry. Don’t you remember?’ She was too young. ‘This setting is very special. This is for the ancestors. They will eat with us tonight.’

  When Father sat down at the table he saw the extra setting. He said ‘Good. This is very good.’

  ‘I set the table BaBa,’ announced Sister. And then she looked at me. ‘And Edward, he helped me.’ Mother smiled.

  Father came over and hugged us both. And in my ear he whispered. ‘Good boy Chek Chee. You remembered. You are very good boy. I am proud o
f you.’

  And because it was a special night we had a sumptuous meal with a few Chinese sweet meats and Mother’s favourite roast. ‘The perfect blend of cultures,’ said Mother. ‘Perfect, just perfect,’ replied Father.

  Tuesday, 16 February

  Kung Hey Fat Choi—welcome to the year of the Dragon. A dragon will ensure that this is to be a very good and prosperous year. For me it will be if I don’t have to go to China.

  Chinese New Year is always special, but what a day we had today. We wore our very best clothes and waited excitedly while Mother packed the hampers and Father gathered all the supplies for us to carry.

  We walked out the front door of the store but only Father and Mother knew what was happening. They were teasing us. We walked down George Street, Father and Mother had wicked grins on their faces all the way. When we came to Essex Street, Father asked Mother ‘Maybe we should take this road?’. Mother replied ‘Maybe we should take this road?’ pointing in the opposite direction. They continued this childish activity at every corner.

  Alice asked if we were going to see a ship come in. ‘Oh we might do that Alice dear,’ was the reply, and then more questions began. ‘Are we going to go swimming? Are we playing games? Are we? Tell us please.’

  But Mother and Father both continued to grin. ‘Patience is a virtue children,’ they even said it together, ‘have patience and all will be revealed.’

  So we were patient, but only a little. I thought that we were going to go to Dawes Point to the Battery area or the stores nearby until we arrived at the big fire station. Then we turned into Queens Wharf, and we walked and we walked and we walked all the way to Bennelong Point. Ahead in the distance I could see some Chinese people and then when I looked behind there were more Chinese people following the road we walked.

  Finally we stopped. And we stood. And we waited.

  ‘We are watching the ships come in,’ called my sister. ‘Have we walked all this way just for that?’

  ‘Oh yes we have walked such a long, long way to watch the ships come in.’ It did not take long before soon there was a huge gathering of Chinese men and women and children—and non-Chinese people too, some were even customers of Father’s. Everyone was dressed up but none of the children knew where we were going.

  ‘See, we told you,’ said Father as a ferry berthed at the stone wharf. We were going on a ferry ride.

  We rode across to Clifton Gardens and that is where we spent the rest of the day. I loved riding the ferry waves and looking at the water. Immediately on landing the women and men prepared the food. Some of us started chasing and building sand castles and digging holes in the sand.

  At lunch simply the most wonderful food was shared, every family had brought something and we all shared the food around. There was Ah Toy and his relatives and Mr Lee sitting at our banquet.

  The adults played fantan and pakapu and mahjong, so someone even carried a table. I love the sound of mahjong tiles crashing against one another but the men were so fast. I have tried watching them pick up the tiles and then throw them back into the pit but it is still very confusing and so fast.

  After lunch, just the best time was had by everyone there. The dragon appeared for the dragon dance. Cymbals were clashing and gongs were struck. It was a wonderful celebratory noise. One man appeared around the dragon with his smiling chubby face and fan waving in the air. Little Sister was a little scared. There was cheering and yelling and squeals of delight—especially by Little Sister when the dragon head came right up to her face and opened and closed his mouth. She did not see the men inside in the costume. She clamped her hands over her ears because of the firecrackers, but I love the explosions. The dragon was dancing, the crackers were exploding. Gongs, cymbals, crackers, squealing—this is the excitement of New Year! Around and around the dragon danced, flying high in the air, reaching up to the skies and then down low at our feet. We kept jumping up and down trying to be close to the dragon.

  And someone carried a cricket kit too, stumps and bats and balls. Suddenly Father and I were on a team and we played all afternoon. We ran on the grass. We ran near the water. I caught a ball with two hands but Father dived and caught the best I have ever seen with one hand. Mr Lee tripped and hobbled a while and one of Father’s customers hit a ball into the bushes and we couldn’t find it. I have never bowled like this ever. I even hit the ball—straight into the water. Everyone was cheering and shouting and clapping at my shot. I won the match. All types of people playing: men, women, boys and girls, Chinese and Australian. This is how cricket should be played.

  We ferried back across the harbour. We were all worn to the bones. Mother even slept on the ferry. Thankfully we did not have to walk all the way back to the store, just across the Queens Wharf to catch a tram. I do think that nearly every Chinese person living in Sydney must have been with us there today celebrating Chinese New Year.

  And best of all we did not have to go to school today. Hooray.

  Wednesday, 17 February

  Even though I have received more red packets than at any other time in my life and I have lots of money to deposit in the bank, it was not what I remembered most. The celebration of being Chinese and the fun, that is what I remember. I love being Chinese. And I love being Australian too.

  Even Mr Lee has given me another red packet. ‘It is hard for you to be Chinese boy and to be like other boys too, it is. But part of you always Chinese, you must continue be Chinese and be Australian too. Your Father knows this. He very pleased.’

  I do know that Father is pleased with me and I do know that Father and Mother are not sending me to China because I am disobedient or that I do not behave as a Chinese boy should. But still I do not want to go. I am still afraid of what might happen.

  Mother was also given red packets for Elder Brother and Sister. Even though they are in China they still receive packets. I wonder if they have red packets for me from the relatives. ‘Yes Edward,’ Mother announced when she saw the look in my eyes. ‘Red packets will be waiting for you in China.’ At least that might be one good thing about going to China.

  This afternoon Father and I were drinking cha together. He began with Chek Chee and my first thoughts were that I was being sent to China even earlier. We talked about school, about the family, about travelling to China and about the Chinese ways. ‘You will always be Australian. You were born here, but you are also Chinese so you must continue Chinese ways too.’ And then he continued, ‘But what I really want to say is that I am very pleased at all your efforts at school and with us. You are courteous and you look after your family. This is good. This is respectful. This is the Chinese way.’

  I felt very pleased. I wonder if Mr Lee talked to Father?

  Thursday, 18 February

  It really is quite impossible. What is wrong with people? It is a perfectly wonderful celebration, Chinese New Year, but of course the police have to spoil it by arresting Lee Sam, Ah Bung and Hing War (they are dealers), and Ah See (he is a cooper). They went in front of the magistrate. They were fined 20 shillings just for letting off fireworks in public streets. And if they couldn’t pay the fine then they would be imprisoned for seven days. Immediately the fines were paid and the men bailed, Mr Lee made sure. He had to do this. All the Chinese community who were there were enjoying those fireworks. Why weren’t we all fined?

  What do they expect—that the fireworks will be let off in the houses or yards? The buildings could end up burning down. It is strange—Chinese can’t let off fireworks but Europeans can ring bells and blow sirens on their New Year’s Day. They are even noisier.

  Today is the last day of the festivities. The decorations will remain and I am sure that there will be much more feasting to come but tomorrow everyone will be back at work. Father has announced at dinner time, much to Mother’s disappointment, that we do not have to go to school tomorrow.

  ‘Dear they have missed four days this week already. One more will not make a difference.’ I agree. I hope that the teacher
s do too.

  Friday, 19 February

  Elizabeth was here today. She did not come with us to the New Year celebrations. She was invited but her father refused to let her come, just like for the temple opening. She has been permitted to come to the store to work but not to socialise, that’s what he said. I think that it is strange that he would permit his daughter to work at our store, for my family, a Chinese family—that is what she is doing, but Mother says that he chooses to ignore that information.

  It is a pity that Elizabeth was not able to join in and see how wonderful the Chinese celebrations are for New Year—it might help her understand about Chinese people more, but I am glad that she was not able to come. She is not Chinese and she is not family, not really.

  There was much cleaning and refreshing the house after the celebrations. I knew that there would be a consequence for not going to school today … it was clean up and do store work instead.

  I went to bed early this evening. Elizabeth is still here. Father will have to walk her to the tram stop and then to her house and then come back.

  Saturday, 20 February

  I was half asleep as I walked down the stairs this morning for my morning ablutions. I am sure that I do not look my best first thing in the morning. I certainly do not feel alive first thing in the morning. I left the landing and entered the kitchen and then I screamed ‘argh …’

  ‘And good morning to you too Eddie.’ Father did not accompany Elizabeth to the tram or home last night. She slept at our house with my sisters.

  I rushed to the water closet and then back upstairs before coming back down for breakfast. Father then announced that Elizabeth and I would both go to the wharf to collect some parcels. ‘There will be no discussion on this matter. Immediately you have returned your dishes to the sink you can both go.’