Under the Dragon by Rory Maclean

Author:Rory Maclean
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: new travel writing, burma, myanmar, aung san suu kyi, burmese history, political travel writing, slorc, william dalrymple, fact and fiction
Publisher: wander2wonder press
Published: 2013-06-30T16:00:00+00:00

SIX

Within, Without

HER ROOM WAS BARE. Its bald white walls retained no history. It was a place without a past, where games began but life could not be contained. The windowless recess held only a stool and an atlas. In the dim evening light May sat on the stool. Kwan stood before her, the atlas held flat between her hands. ‘I hope that you enjoyed your luncheon, madam?’ she asked, anxious to please.

May mimicked the sipping of tea before setting her imaginary cup back on the atlas. The Tristar’s engines droned in her ears. ‘The duck was tender, stewardess, but it could have had more hoi sin.’

‘One hundred pardons,’ apologised Kwan, bowing as deeply as her rheumatism allowed. ‘I will advise the head chef in time for your return journey.’

May looked out of her daydream window and pictured the sunlight touching the clouds high over the Pacific. She imagined feeling its warmth on her face. The shimmering jetstream of another aircraft caught her eye. She inspected again her tattered boarding pass, turning it over and over in her hand. It must be pleasant to fly first class. Downstairs the tailor Ch’ien was drilling his nephew in his multiplication tables. On the dark street below a pack of dogs howled at the moon. ‘I do not think that I’ll be returning to Asia,’ she said, disturbed by the interruption.

‘But you always return, madam,’ Kwan replied, puzzled. ‘Every Sunday evening. It is our custom.’

‘My son may insist on me remaining in America. He has always wanted me to live with him there. He has a degree in mathematics from the University of California, you know.’ May’s empty smile quivered, then she lost hold of the sense of warmth on her face. She shivered as dusk’s mist rolled down from the hills. Lashio’s mountain damp had always irritated the sisters’ joints. She thought of the wide world that might have been hers, and for the first time in her long life felt old. ‘Stewardess, the cabin has turned chilly,’ she fussed, gathering up the strands of fancy. ‘Pass me my coat.’

Kwan lay the atlas down on the floor and reached up as if to an overhead locker. She unfolded a make-believe coat and lay it on her sister’s lap. The twins’ hands touched. Kwan’s fingers felt rough and callused, while May’s had retained the smooth, soft skin of a young girl.

‘You stink of cloves again,’ said May in irritation, jerking her hand away. ‘What is the in-flight movie today?’ she demanded.

‘Dream of the Red Chamber,’ said Kwan, while arranging a fanciful footrest for May.

‘I’d prefer to see a Hollywood film, like the ones shown at the video parlour.’

As neither sister had ever been on board an aircraft, their knowledge of air travel was at best uncertain. Their single visit to the Mansu video shop had done little to enhance the accuracy of their make-believe.

‘Rambo would suit me very well. Ch’ien’s nephew tells me that it is popular with young people. Please arrange it.’

‘Yes, madam,’ Kwan said, and tried to recall how to load a videocassette player.

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