Saving Fish from Drowning - Heal Burma

AMY TAN
the narrow canal, one of a watery lacework that ran through the
streets of Lijiang. If you were to sit on the sill, you could have dipped
your toes in the tranquil flow. The tables and chairs were old, marked
with character in the way that has become popular with antiques in
America nowadays, nothing refinished, no scratches or cigarette
marks buffed out, the century-old bits of food now serving as grout
in the cracks.
The beers arrived, somber toasts were called out:
“To better times ahead.”
“Much better.”
Dwight immediately suggested they vote in democratic fashion
whether to leave Lijiang the next day so they might get an earlier
start on Burma. When he called for the yea votes, the only holdouts
were Bennie, Vera, and Esmé.
Bennie was understandably concerned about an early departure. If
they left early, he would be the one scrambling to patch in a new itin­
erary. A day in the border town of Ruili and then three extra days in
Burma—what would they do? But he said nothing in casting his nay,
not wishing to come across as inadequate. He should have realized
that the democratic process has no place on travel tours. Once you
are a tour leader, absolute rule is the only way to go.
Vera tried to exercise her executive veto. She was used to working
in an organization in which she was the top boss. As a born leader,
she demanded consensus, and through her unilateral decisions, and
her famous eye-locking gaze, she attained it. But here in China she
was one of the masses. When the votes were called for, she appealed
to the group’s rationality. “Fiddle-dee-dee. I don’t believe for a sec­
ond that the chief has the clout to bar us from other places. Think
about it. Is he able to get on the Internet and e-mail his cronies in a
hundred places? Of course not.”
“He had a cell phone,” Moff reminded her.
“I doubt he’s going to waste his precious cell phone minutes to
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