Saving Fish from Drowning - Heal Burma

SAVING FISH FROM DROWNING
peaked canopies of the produce market, the agreed-upon meeting
point.
The tent was an emporium of colors: the golds and browns of
turmeric, marigold, curry, and cumin; the reds of mangoes, chilies,
and tomatoes; the greens of celery, long beans, coriander, and cu­
cumbers. Young children fondly eyed trays of seaweed jelly artifi­
cially colored a vivid yellow. Their mothers watched as the vendors
weighed their staples of rice, palm sugar, and dried rice noodles. The
smells were both earthy and fermented. Moff saw Walter and Bennie
standing at the entrance, both of them looking relaxed and pleased
with themselves. The other travelers were already there waiting, too.
“Well?” Moff said to Bennie.
“Piece o’ cake,” he answered blithely, and snapped his fingers, as if
it had never occurred to him that there might be a problem with the
border crossing. He handed back passports. In truth, Bennie had
worried so much that he had returned to the bus and stood next to
Walter as papers were being examined and copied. Through the en­
tire ordeal, his eyes were darting, his ears alert, and his sphincter
muscles clenched in preparation for fight or flight.
“What I can’t get over,” Bennie now said, “is how Walter here can
switch back and forth between perfect Burmese and excellent En­
glish. Have you noticed his English is better than mine? He’s more
American than I am.” Bennie meant that Walter had a British accent,
which in his mind sounded more high-class than his American mid-
western one.
Walter was pleased by the flattery. “Oh, but being American has
less to do with one’s proficiency in English and more with the as­
sumptions you hold dear and true—your inalienable rights, your
pursuit of happiness. I, sad to say, don’t possess those assumptions. I
cannot undertake the pursuit.”
“Well, you understand us,” Bennie said. “So that makes you at
least an honorary American.”
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