“
BOOM”, their ears were ringing.
They knew instinctively that the planes were there. Bombs started pelting down and chaos was
everywhere. People were screaming and desperately running for cover. Dogs were barking in confusion. He
took her hand, and they fled. They ran along the narrow alleys, past bewildered people, and more confused dogs.
The boy had no idea where he was leading her. As they rounded a bend, a bomb hit the cottage nearby, and it
began to crumble. The girl was more afraid than ever, and she clung to him. The cottage’s support gave, and a
large log came hurtling towards them. There was nowhere to run. The boy, with sudden courage, raised his arm
and flung himself on the girl. The blazing log hit his arm, and for a moment the boy thought he was going to die,
he felt no pain.
After a while, he felt someone pulling him, and his arm felt numb. The girl had already put a tourniquet
around his arm with her handkerchief, and was pulling him towards home. He eventually got up, and started the
long journey home.
His arm had to be amputated, the injury was too severe and there was fear of gangrene. Still, the boy
lived a zealous life, not disheartened, nor did he regret it. He knew in his heart that his sacrifice wasn’t for
nothing. He saved the girl he loved. We know that the boy is a true man of the Great Wall.
1985,
Great Wall, Beijing
“
So, you eventually married the girl?” I asked tentatively.
“
Fortunately, I did. We married around three or four years later, when the war subsided a bit. It’s just
my little story, it’s nothing compared to what people sing about, where everything’s blood and tears. She’s still
with me now, all this craft work, it’s her other love.” He displayed some intricate, traditional, colourful paper
cuttings and dolls that stood out amongst the standard stuff sold.
As I watched this true man of the Great Wall caressing the dolls, I tried to justify my reasons for being
a true man, having grown up with the Wall. As I did, a name, Jameela, echoed in the catacombs of my memory.
1973,
Pennsylvania, USA
Jameela was the girl in front of me when I enrolled for college. She was of Indian origin. A
combination of dark hair, tan complexion made her startlingly beautiful. We somehow struck up a conversation
and I managed to get her name and telephone number. Since then, we walked the woods together whenever we
could.
We talked of everything, long forgotten childhood anecdotes, adolescent challenges and the future.
The fact that we came from different racial and cultural backgrounds was no barrier, we shared even more. We
even talked seriously about marriage, the difference of our racial and cultural background brought us together,
but it also undermined the ultimate failure of the relationship.
I hit a wall when I told my parents of Jameela. Deep-rooted Chinese feudal values and influence of the
mendacious view of Americans on racial relationships made my parents reject Jameela outright. Jameela was
hurt, she had dignity, and I failed her. I didn’t even try to protect her from my parents’ harsh words; I didn’t
even fight for her. I just let her go, and I was left ashamed…
1985,
Great Wall, Beijing
This memory has been tucked away in an annex of my mind. Now that I try to weigh and prove myself
to be a true man by ascending the Great Wall, I have discovered that I’m not. I’ m shallow and lack resolution,
and I now doubt the validity of the adage. Of course, the man before me, with only one arm but a keen heart, is
as true as he can be. This incident, this memory of mine can’t be erased, nor can I acquire one to make myself a
true man, one that upholds loyalty and love. I have failed…
The man, breaking the silence and thinking that my Chinese had come to an end, pulled me out of my
pensive state and asked in his broken English while nodding at his wife’s crafts, “yousa wan’ buy a memoly?”
I wondered, could I?
* * *