Bride of the Moso Prince (19 page)

             
“Didn’t you bring your work with you?”

             
“Yeah, but it’s hard for me to concentrate... I mean this place being so beautiful and all I want is to look at the lake or go swimming. I guess I’m not as self-disciplined as you’re.”

             
“You could just settle for a vacation. Look at the lake and swim! Being idle for a couple of days won’t kill you.”

             
Sharon sighed. If she stayed for a couple more days she would be ruined. Something imminent was happening to her and it would go beyond her control soon. Her life would turn up-side-down. If she didn’t get away quick she might not get away whole. But she couldn’t tell Charlene about it. “I might be bored to death.” She mumbled.

             
“I could take you to visit people’s houses if you want. You haven’t been to a real traditional Moso house yet. You haven’t seen the village.”

             
“Well,” Sharon considered. She hadn’t come to see the village but was somewhat curious about how people lived here.

             
Charlene wasted no time. After lu
nch she took her sister in to Algae
Village.

             
As soon as they turned to the main road Sharon could see houses scattered between the corn fields again.

             
“I’ll take you to see Namu’s grandmother Naruma, who is a hundred and two years old, and the oldest woman in the village.”

             
“Grandmother of Naruma? Does it mean that she was…”

             
“Yes, she was the first lover of Nobul’s grandfather the chief.”

             
Sharon’s eyes beamed. She would love to see Naruma indeed.

             
When they passed a store on roadside Charlene went in and bought a bottle of rice wine and a bag of tea-leave-bricks, saying that those were traditional house visiting gifts of the Mosos.

             
They came cross a house with a huge yard on their way. Its beautifully painted roof and intriguing wood fences caught Sharon’s eye.

             
“Want to go inside?” Charlene asked her.

             
“Sure.”

             
It sounded like a construction was going on from the drilling and hammering noises they heard from the gate. And indeed, the yard was covered by of saw dusts. There were about a dozen men inside, sitting in chairs or on the floor, drilling, scraping, and chiseling on what looked like doors and windows.

             
“Are they building a new hotel?” Sharon asked curiously.

             
“Well, they’re making building materials that would be used in some hotels in the future.”

             
“So what’s this? Some sort of a factory?”

             
“Exactly,”
Charlene nodded, “it’s Nobul’s wood
-
carving factory.”

             
“Oh!” Sharon’s expression changed from curiosity to nonchalance, “So it really exists. I thought you were joking.”

             
“Why would I?”

             
Charlene said hi to everyone as they walked through the place, stopping occasionally to chat. Sharon was amazed by the intricate pictures that were being created around her. She had thought that out of all forms of artistic creation, embroidery was the one that required most patience. But now, seeing how painstakingly the workers were making tiny strokes with heavy tools, she knew she was wrong. 

             
The end products were displayed indoor in a warehouse. There were doors and windows that looked similar to the ones she saw in the hotel, but there were more. There were tables with chiseled tops, and chairs with chiseled backs,
chiseled
mirror frames, etc. Charlene told her that most of them were special orders from hotels in Lijiang.

             
Sharon stopped in front of a giant piece of work that was supported by a stand next to a wall. It was a 3D picture, portraying a pair of lovers in Moso costumes meeting under a pine tree, and behind them was a lake and mountains. A sickle moon that hung in the sky indicated that it was at night.  It was grand and meticulous at the same time. On the floor there were even shadows of pine branches casted by moonlight.

             
As she was admiring the work Charlene came over and gasped. “Wow, he did it!”

             
“Who did it?”

             
“Nobul. I saw him starting it when I first came. It’s for his museum and it tells the love story between the Goddess of Lioness and the God of Dragon.”

             
“You mean the one about Gemu filling the gap with her tears?” Sharon recalled the story that Nobul had told her during the boat ride.

             
“Yes. How did you know?”

             
“I uh, Nobul told me about it.” Sharon mumbled.

             
Sharon felt vexed at the mentioning of Nobul and wanted to walk away in an instant. But her eyes were fixed on the woodcarving, and her legs were glued on the ground in front of it.
He
did it? That insensitive, unsophisticated, fish-catching, potato-digging,
women-chasing
mountain playboy? Sharon refused to believe it. But
it wasn’t hard for her to imag
in
e
him sitting here in front of the panel, hammering, scraping, brushing…The thought dispelled the grudge she was holding against him. Unknowingly she reached out to feel the surface of the woodwork, and the contact thrilled her.

             
“Are you ok, Sharon?”

Started by Charlene’s voice, Sharon withdrew her hand and said shrugging, “Yes. Unbelievable. He doesn’t look like an artist.”

“That’s because you don’t know him yet. You’ll see. He’s a talented guy.”

             
“How come there is no woman working here?” After they had left the factory Sharon asked her sister.

             
“Well, sadly, artistic creation is a Moso man’s privilege by tradition.”

             
“Well it makes sense to me,” Sharon said, “since it’s a matrilineal society, women do most of the labor work and men had to do something to spend their leisure time.”

             
“That’s a good one,” Charlene laughed, “but the tradition holds in patrilineal societies as well. In most of the male centered indigenous cultures men spent majority of their daily lives to make adornments out of stones or feathers.”

             
“No kidding? Why is that?”

             
“I’m not sure. But my guess is that men have to make themselves pretty to get women’s attention.”

             
“Well I like that.” Sharon laughed.

             
“Yeah. It must also be the reason behind the fact that until but last century, painters, architects, fashion designers were mostly men all over the world.”

             
“No doubt about it.” Sharon smiled, “Sis, you’ve got to publish that theory.”

             
They took a path through the cornfields. It was the same path that led to the dance lot. Sharon tried not to think about the last time she had treaded through and it wasn’t hard. During the day and without the music of the flute, the place looked very different. It was simple and rustic, without any danger or mystery that she had felt the other night.
             
Log houses scattered on the other side of the cornfields. Behind the mud enclosures of the yard, they could hear the gurgles of chicken and grunts of pigs.

             
They stopped in front of a house marked by a shady pear tree with a cow napping underneath it. Without a knock, Charlene pushed open the heavy wooden door. A yellow dog rushed to them and barked, but Charlene calmed it. “Huang, how are you? Long time no see!” She said to the dog while petting it. The dog, however, insisted in sniffing Sharon before letting her pass.

             
“Everyone is probably still out working, that’s why the house is quiet,” Charlene said to Sharon as they walked towards the living room. “And I hope Naruma isn’t resting. Sadama told me that she wasn’t feeling well lately.”

             
Just as they were half way across the yard Namu came out of the house and greeted them. “Summer and Snow! How nice of you to come!”

             
Holding Charlene’s hand, Namu asked, “Are you recovered?”

             
“Yes, thank you. I just want to show my sister the largest Moso family and the oldest Moso woman. Is she resting?”

             
“She’s tired of resting all the time and would be thrilled to have someone to talk to. I’m afraid you don’t get to see a big family today. My uncles haven’t returned from the mountains.
The kids are still in school.
My aunts went to town and my cousins have just gone out for algae and grasses!” Namu looked apologetic.

             
“That’s fine,” Charlene said, “I miss Naruma and my sister also wants to meet her. Here we brought some gifts.”

             
“Thank you so much. Come on in and be careful with the threshold. It’s high!” Afraid that she might trip over it, Namu took Sharon’s hand as she stepped into the house.

             
Sharon couldn’t help but feel embarrassed in the presence of Namu. After all, Namu and Nobul might walk-marry soon.

             
They went into the living room, which was faintly lit by a skylight and the fire in the hearth. Sitting and smoking by the hearth was Naruma. Her face wrinkled like a sun dried jujube, and her eyes bright like the hearth next to her.

             
“Come sit down!” She held her pipe with one hand, and beckoned them with another.

             
Namu brought them sunflower seeds and tea.

             
For a long time, t
he old woman stared at Sharon as she sucked her pipe.

             
“Mine! You re
minded me of someone.” She said finally,
shaking her head, “and some bygone feelings.”

             
Sharon knew what she was talking about. The Empress
again
. The old woman must have resented the marriage between the chief and the Empress?

             
She felt sorry to have reminded Naruma of her sorrow, and decided to pretend ignorance of the topic.

But Namu
asked curiously
, “
Who does she remind you of, grandma?
”

             
Hoping to avoid the topic, Sharon responded lightly, “Oh really?”

             
“Who else? That
Moso Empress
!”

             
Sharon had no choice but responded, “Well, Sadama said the same thing.”

             
“
If she said the same thing then my eyes haven’t betrayed me.
” The old woman
measured Sharon up and down again, and
said in her tobacco roughened voice, “from head to toe. Your eyes, your nose, your chin, especially your eyes. She had those proud eyes that made you feel shorter than her, even though she was as tall as a dwarf. And she was as skinny as a bamboo pole. I didn’t know what the chief saw in her.”

             
Sharon tried to stifle a laugh. It was obvious that the old woman was still jealous of the Empress.

             
After she had sucked the pipe for a moment, Naruma spoke again, “but later I knew. That girl might be small, but she was tough. I thought she wouldn’t last. Born in a wealthy family, tasted the best delicac
ies
, learned all the books, and spoke poetry, how was she going to live the life in mountains, feed on potatoes and bacons, among uneducated peasants? I was counting the days and waiting to see her run away. Hell, she did last. A year, two years, ten years…When she was put to that reformed farm years later I thought I wouldn’t see her again. She hadn’t done any labor work and couldn’t possibly survive the harsh life there. So for fifteen years we didn’t hear news about her and we thought that she had died. But then one day she came back, like a ghost! Older, but tougher, kneeling on the ground when she paved the roads, climbed on the walls when she painted the houses… like she had been born to do that and nothing else…”

             
When Naruma finished talking Sharon saw nothing but admiration in the old woman’s eyes.