I had no mood to do things at the end of the year.
The end of the year was like a sinking boat: you can't rescue it whatever you do. Everything turned out to be chaotic and flimsy. In this chaotic, there was no solid plan but following others' instructions.
In mid-December, our small ballet folklorico group had the last presentation of the year. I joined the group late and for me, it was my second presentation. Before the performance, I saw people from the county's culture council decorating the place. She saw me and said she still did not know my name, but she knew I would be in the presentation. I said yes I was in it. She handed me an album of photos of the group over the past few years as well as flyers and news clippings. I then knew that this was not a casually formed group but had its own name El Sol, and there were instructors and a manager. They were also supported by the county's culture commission. They had already given many shows.
The presentation was also a Christmas party and a commemoration of the fifth anniversary of the group. We all brought food. It was a potluck. I prepared fried rice with spicy chicken, which included chicken meat, peanut, carrot and potato.
The presentation was in King's Middle School. We were supposed to be there by 5:30 pm. I hurriedly heated the rice after work, put it in the trunk, and put the cartoon box containing my costumes on the front seat of the car. I also stuffed several videotapes that were due in my backpack, threw it onto the back seat and drove off. First I returned the tapes to the county library and decided not to borrow new ones. It cost too much time and besides, I had not time to browse and select.
King's Middle School was near the T section at the end of Broadway. I had never been there before and did not know if it was at the divided section of the road. When I turn into Broadway from Fremont, I cast a glance at Mi Tierra as if to see who was the cashier that day.
Two cashiers who liked to chat with me had left. One went to work for a CD store. I went there several times to see her but was very self-conscious to do so. After all I was not buying anything there. It was not like in a grocery store where you could go and browse. Later she left to give birth to her new baby, probably the fifth, of a different father from the one of the previous children. The other father was still in Mexico. She said the current one was her boyfriend. I really admired her courage to have babies without fearing the burdens of life. One day I read in a newspaper that in America, a family had to spent 200 thousand dollars to raise a child up to 18 years old.
Of course this was only a general estimation. Poor people had their own ways to deal with it. It was like the case when a Chinese applies to study in America. The school brochure gives you an estimation of a year's expense. Except for the tuition, there is much flexibility in the living expenses. Another cashier was small and delicate, with a dimple on her chin when she smiled. Her skin was fair, a sweet type of girl. She seemed to have a boyfriend too, for one day I saw her stepping into a car driven by a young muchacho. I could not find out by asking because my Spanish was limited. Now I only go there to buy stuff after they left, since the cashiers there now did not like chatting with customers.
It got dark early in winter. I hate driving in the darkness because I could not see the roads clearly. Near the end of Broadway I saw a building on my left and made a left turn. It turned out to be the fire department. I drove up to a house with an open door and asked an thin-faced Asian, maybe Pilipino, guy. He pointed to some light behind the fire department and said drove forward and turn left at the crossroad.
The school had a large parking lot. I parked my car and walked towards the gate without carrying anything, for I want to make sure it was the right place. A shadow moved in my direction in the darkness and said my name. It was the maestra. I shook her hand. Shaking hand seemed to be a custom of Mexicans. Pointing at a yellowish pole in the light she said: "there is the place. Bring everything in."
In side was the conference hall, very big but empty. Only several group members and the two a man and a woman, from the county's culture council. Later I learned they were a couple. They were preparing the loudspeaker and the rostrum. The female manager and a tall, think Finish girl was putting paper flower on the long dinning tables. Paper napkins were already put on the tables. It seemed they were preparing for around a hundred guests. Before the corner of the stage stood a banner bearing the logo of the group. I had seem it before and had thought it was paper. I found it to be silk when I went over to feel it.
"Do we perform on the stage?" I asked the maestra. She said ye and that the wood there was good and made good sound with the stepping of feet. I said I would be careful to step lightly lest others heard my wrong steps. She laughed. I was only a novice hiding among veterans and had not really learned the correct way of zapateado yet.
When the party started, in the audience there were about thirty people, adults and kids. Before the presentation, the man from the county culture council gave a speech summing up the work of the group in this year. He read the names of the members and whoever's name was read, he or she went upon the stage and stood facing the audience and receiving a certificate of award. Each had different words on it. Mine said I contributed to the multiculturalization of the group. I thought mine and those for the Finish girl and the Czeckoslovakian girl must be the same. I felt I was not up to that praise. Firstly I was new here and secondly, I never look at the issue from that point of view. I thought such appreciation really merited my good effort to become more professional next year.
We changed into our costumes behind the curtains on both ends of the stage. All the men were on one side and all the women were on the other side. I was confused: we were supposed to come out with our partners of the opposite sex. How could we do it if all the men were on the left side and all the women on the right side? Soon someone closed the curtain. I though maybe the curtain would be closed between presentations, which would certainly solve the problem. The maestro was outside announcing the shows. We lined up inside.
The first show was kids. When the curtain opened, they were not ready yet. The adults chased them into the center of the stage, who formed in line under the gaze of the audience. The music rose. Sounds of stepping began. A kid, about two years old, in white shirt ,black pants, leather shoes and cowboy hat, obviously had no idea about all the formations of the dance. He just stamped his feet on the side and looked at the maestro behind the curtain when dancing. The maestro and other males gave him competing instructions. The kid, with blank face, sometimes obeyed and sometimes just danced his own way, making adults laugh heartily. When it came to the part zapoteado was needed, the adults behind the curtains also stepped hard to cheer the kids. When it was our turn, the curtain was not closed and we were not in formation when the music started.
Men on stage made hurried gestures to stop the music until we lined up. We did it also under the gaze of the audience but no one cared. After all it was not professional performance, but amateur presentation. I was much more relaxed, treating it as another practice. I showed up three times. The first was the flower casting dance which was simple, like walking. The second I was in the background with four other men when the women waved their colorful skirts in front. The men were in one line, in white and also wore white cowboy hats, with a red bandana around the neck, dancing the not so complicated steps. The third was the pleasant Jesusita en Chihuahua.
This dance did not use zapotaedo a lot and so it was relatively easy to learn.. The only thing was that I could not remember how to maneuver on stage. Luckily my partner could remind me. This was also the last dance. My partner for the dance did not wear glasses but used contacts and applied makeup, making herself even prettier. Last time I recorded their presentation and she was in the front. I found she was very special when dancing. She was in senior high and her two younger sisters and parents were all in this dance group. She knew her steps well and dancing with her saved me a lot of trouble. Presentation was different from practice, which could repeat till you perspire a lot. Presentation was once for all, good or bad. Before you felt exhausted the music was over. We heard applauses. We stood in one line, as if going to bow but we looked one another and finally no bow was made collectively. Instead, we went off from the two sides of the stage. I felt empty: over, so quick? The maestro had said that after this presentation we had a break till Jan. 9th. Six practices were to be canceled in this 20-some day period.
We began to eat. What was brought was all homemade food. There were no desserts. There were beans, rice, spaghetti, corn tortillas with vegetable and cheese on top, white corn soup. What was more complicated to make was tamales, steamed corn flour and other fillings wrapped in corn husks. They did not taste as nicely as Chinese zongzi, but had its own special flavor.
When I was putting food in my plate, my partnerfs sister asked me how I felt. I did not expect she would talk to me, because when we practice, the sisters were not very outspoken and when they talked, it was among their peers. I said I was happy I did not make mistakes. She said she also had the same feeling. Actually she danced very well and could not make mistakes.
We ate in separate groups, almost organized by family. The maestrafs husband came today and they sat together. High school scholars sat in a separate group talking about school. My neighbor was a college student who was new to the group and her daughter. Because she was new, she was not in the presentation. I asked her to take some photos of me, using my simple camera. I asked her why her husband did not came. She said he was too tired after work. Their place was a little bit far.
After dinner, seeing I had no business there I decided to leave. I shook hands with everyone wishing them merry Christmas. It was also customary to shake hands with everyone when leaving. A man, with beard, who often reminded of the character in a Chinese novel, asked me if I would come the following year. I said yes but I also said I was considering retiring: I was almost 50. He said it did not matter. The finish girl was beside him. When I shook her hand, I felt her hand too powerful to be a womanfs hand. She also shook hands with much force. I had practiced Jesusita en Chihuahua with her. She swung her arm with much exaggeration. One day I found her driving a MPV. She was on a visa in the U.S. and had no family. What was the use of an MPV? She obviously was not a weak type of girl.
Coming out of the conference hall, I saw a high and wide starry night sky . It made me feel that only I was there between the heaven and the earth. I suddenly regretted leaving. I had not time to chat with people when we practices. Today should be a good chance. The finish girl and the Czechoslovakian girl were chatting with people there. How could I be so distant? But there was no excuse for me to go back.
I indeed had hoped to talk with them, asking about their life, their feeling about the United States and the reason why they were so keen on dancing and giving presentations without pay.
Maybe it was the chaotic nature of the end of year that caused me to forget. I did not know why I was so not myself at that moment. I started the car. The music from a Spanish station was heard. My car cruised down Broadway to the lower end of the city.
2003C12C18