Saving Fish from Drowning - Heal Burma

AMY TAN
hotel. As she approached, the dog jumped up, knocked over a low
stool, and made a bluff charge at her, barking ferociously. Esmé
shrieked.
“Little girlie,” called the interviewer. “Please come back please, so
we can ask you question why your parents bring you here.”
Esmé glanced toward her mother questioningly, and Marlena nod­
ded. When Esmé returned, the woman shoved her between her
mother and Harry, then said: “You happy to be here with mother
and father, come so far enjoy beautiful Stone Bell Temple. Yes?”
“He’s not my dad,” Esmé said peevishly. She scratched at an elbow.
The itchy bumps left by mosquitoes made her even more irritated.
“Sorry. Can you say again?” the interviewer asked.
“I said, she’s my mother, but he’s not my dad.”
“Oh! Sorry, sorry.” The woman was now flustered. These Ameri­
cans were always so frank. You never knew what kind of peculiar
things they would say. They openly admitted to having unmarried
sex, that their children were bastards.
The woman gathered her thoughts, reaching for a new angle, and
began her interview again in English: “Just while ago, you enjoy the
beautiful Bai minority folksinging, mountain girl call to her moun­
tain boy. This traditional ballad happen every day for many thou­
sand years. In your homeland you having Christmas ballad for
celebrate two thousand years ago also until now. Is true or not true?”
Marlena had never thought of Christmas in that way. “True,” she
dutifully answered.
“Maybe since you already enjoy our traditional singing we can
enjoy your same.”
The camera zoomed in on Marlena, Esmé, and Harry, and the
boom was lowered.
“What are we supposed to do?” Harry asked.
“I think they want us to sing,” Marlena whispered.
“You’re kidding.”
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