Translated…
When I Was Younger, I’d Gazed Upon Cheng, My Uncle, Curious and Wondering, Why He’d Behaved So Weird, that He Was Always, Drawn, into His Own Little World…
Cheng Who’s Been Trapped in a Make-Believe World
My uncle sat, on the concrete floor of the kitchen, leaned against the windows—he’d often sat there, smoking, or reading the papers. I thought, he must be thinking of something that’s funny or pleasant, because I saw him, smiling. But, I was, sitting, on the old couch of the living room, so was my mom and grandma, so, he’d not have anyone to smile to in the kitchens. Anyhow, he was, facing the windows, perhaps, smiling at his imaginary friends outside, like how when I was playing at home, I’d imagined myself as the Dragon Woman—from the sword fight soap, the female lead, dressed in all white, and, as I’d put on my mother’s white tablecloth, I can become anything or anybody I want to become. So, maybe, as I’d become a grown up, and sitting in the kitchen, facing out the window, I get to, imagine anything too.
And now, he’d used both his arms, made movements, moved his wrists up and down, like the fish in that small pond. Mom was telling grandma, she needed to take him to the hospitals, that she’d wanted grandma to bring me home later on.
Mom called out loudly, “Come, Cheng, we must go to the hospital now.”
For my uncle, this, is such, a troubling illness! And, for others with the same conditions as he, it must also be, trying for all of them too. had it not been for my mother, who’d shouldered up the responsibilities for taking care of him, where, would my uncle’s fate lead him?
Mom called out loudly to him, “Cheng, come, we must go to the hospital now!”
I knew he’d normally followed behind my mother as she took him to the hospital, but this time, he didn’t get up.
“No, I don’t want to go!”, the loud and agitated answer came, from the kitchen.
Mom tried it again, “Cheng, you’re in bad condition, we must go. I’ll go visit with you, bring you some foods you enjoy and cigarettes too.”
“No, go away!”
I’d never seen my uncle behaved like that. Grandma looked so very worried too, she’d tried to persuade him too, “Cheng, don’t be like that! Follow Pearl to the hospital!”
But he’d not replied.
Grandma got louder, “Cheng!”
“I don’t want to go!”, came the even LOUDER replies.
And this went on for almost an hour. I became a bit scared, but mom and grandma told me to not be scared. That he may be loud, but he’s not harmful.
Mom told grandma, she needed to take uncle to the hospital. They sat opposite of me, on that unsteady couch. Grandma asked mom, “What do we do?”, I thought, that mom didn’t have the answers to that, she’d just, started frowning, like she’s thinking about something.
A bit later, she’d told grandma, “I’m not strong enough, if he’d not wanted to follow me, I can’t drag him to the hospital myself. Do you think the officers in the neighborhood will help out? They’re definitely, strong enough, they can hold Cheng down, and take him to the hospital safely.”
Grandma said, “If the cops arrived, and everybody in the neighborhood will see.”
Mom replied, “What else can we do? Who else, can help us? And, what if, he ran off on his own half way there?”
Mom walked to the kitchen. I thought, she’d wanted to, give it, one last try.
She’d called out loudly, “Cheng!”, but there was, no reply.
Mom closed her eyes shortly, let out a sigh, then, walked over to the phones. Then, she’d turned to me, “Go into your room, stay there awhile.” As I walked into my bedroom, she’d, shut the doors so I couldn’t see.
The Psychosis that People Misunderstood
I’d heard people walking around outside of my room—toward the kitchens, into the living room, toward the kitchens, into the living rooms again.
One of the officers started, his voice was very loud, and so, I could hear him say, “Ma’am, we’d needed to take your older brother to the station to get a statement, then, we can take him to the hospital. Now, for the sake of safety, we must, cuff him. Just as a precautionary measure. I know this would be embarrassing, but this, is a needed process, I hope you can understand. She’d answered, “Officer, I understand, but I can guarantee, that he isn’t harmful at all. Can you not cuff him? He’d never done anything bad, please, believe me!” The officer told her, “I’m sorry, ma’am, this, is protocol, and we must follow it.”, for the officers, the rules, must be followed.
I thought I’d understood my mom well, imagined that she’d start crying and shouting at them, imagined how she’d debate with them that this wouldn’t be fair at all. She’d remind them harshly, that they were called, to help out, not to make an arrest.
And still, she’d not said a thing. I can only hear the officers, talking fast, into their walkie talkies, and the sound of the cuffs.
from the papers…
I heard grandma crying, I’d not wanted to hide any longer, and so, I went, and held my grandmother’s hand, she’d held on to my hand tight, to the point that it’d hurt my hand, we’d walked to the door together. Grandma extended her neck to see, she’d become, so hunched back, so she’s just, a bit taller than I was; and, keeping her head lifted for long term is trying for her, but now, as her son was in handcuffs, getting taken away by the cops, how could she not look, with her neck extended?
The neighbors all started looking out from their doors, some stood in the hallways to watch, and some lowered their voices to whispers. The officers still had a tight grip on my uncle who was in handcuffs, they’d walked toward the elevator, my mother followed behind them.
Has anybody heard the sound of rubber slippers gliding across the concrete? Like the crickets in the summertime, and the barely audible sound of the two women’s slippers that followed closely behind? Or maybe, hearing is not as important compared to seeing? Seeing how the officers led him away, it’s like the soaps, becoming reality, in the soaps, there are the good and the bad guys. The neighbors are definitely saying that my uncle is the bad guy, I’d wanted to tell them: he’s not bad, didn’t do anything bad either; he’s not a criminal, they shouldn’t be afraid of him, because he would never hurt them. And still, all I could do was cry, and thought, that being diagnosed with a mental condition must be the hardest thing in life.
I’d watched mom and uncle go off, then, saw our neighbors, pointing, whispering, and, the image that came to my mind was two helpless ribs, placed on the cutting boards of the kitchen, with so many pairs of eyes and faces, looking down on them, examining them, then, started laughing so heartlessly, as they’d tossed the meats into the wok, and, allowing the heated oils, to get inside the flesh.
So, this, is from watching someone you loved getting dragged away, it doesn’t feel good, does it? And, for this young kid, she’s more affected by the neighbor’s reactions, than the behaviors of her uncle I think, because she was so very young, and had to feel the humiliations that came, with having the cops, come to her house, and dragging her uncle away.
Life, the Obstacle Course 