家 Bar 
On a balmy evening in Chengdu five friends and I went to
our latest local hangout. It's a small bar, decked-out in full Yunnan style, and
sitting in the incredibly low-ceilinged loft on such a full, humid night I felt
as though I had actually journeyed south, maybe even as far as Laos. The bar is
a small but popular one, and on the warmest of evenings you can find patrons
hailing from various nations seated in the large wicker chairs outside, just
across the street from the副南(Funan) river.
On
this particular evening we had come out to support a friend of ours who was
playing with his newly found band. The band members were three: Alex on the
mandolin, 荣(Rong) on percussion, which consisted of an interesting array of old
vases and dishes as well as your more typical hand-drums, and 尧(Yao) on guitar
and vocals. The percussionist and singer had already been performing together
for some time, and our friend Alex had just recently made the duet into a trio.
While we were roasting away in the cramped
upstairs, enjoying the music but hating the heat, a couple came in a sat next to
our group. They had arrived a bit late, just at the end of the first set. Over
the last few chords of the final song I could hear the man and the woman
conversing in Chinese. I pricked up my ears at their arrival, because, as always
with Chinese-foreign couples, I was curious about which language they chose to
communicate in. In this case I was pleasantly surprised to hear the man speaking
Chinese, and even more fascinated to hear his voice. It rose and fell, lyrically
meeting each beat in the tonal language.
After
finishing his first set, Alex retired upstairs to join us for a short beer break
before continuing with his second. Upon seeing him sit down with us, I overheard
the man next to me mention to his wife, now in North American accented English,
that he would like to meet the talented musician. Curious about the couple, I
readily obliged his too-loudly spoken musing and called Alex over for an
introduction. We quickly exchanged names, and learned that the man hailed from
Toronto while his wife was from a smaller city outside Chengdu.
His name was Paul, and he was a slight man in his
late thirties. His blond hair was flecked with grey around the temples, and
though his light blue eyes were surrounded by wrinkles that didn’t quite
disappear after he smiled, his small mouth retained an almost impish quality; a
remnant of youth carried over into middle-age.
His
wife’s name was 美惠(Meihui), and her voice was distinctly deep and clear,
certainly an alto as she switched dexterously into English. Her accent mimicked
his, and they shared many of the same phrases and inflections of speech that
couples so often do. She was petite, nearly half my size, and she looked even
smaller sitting with her legs curled underneath her on a red floor cushion. She
was dressed in a conservative cream-colored woman’s business suit, and sitting
on the floor gave her a bit of trouble in her knee-length skirt. Though it would
be hard for me to guess her age, I assumed her to be his junior by at least five
years. She was an earnest woman with dark, serious eyes, but there was something
about the rounded nature of her face and frame that lent her more than a touch
of youthfulness.
Within moments we were chatting
away lightly while Alex and her husband began to discuss music. 美惠 had many
questions for me, which she fired slowly and methodically, taking time to
consider my responses and sometimes to add an assenting comment. She asked the
typical questions about where I was from, and why I was here in Chengdu, and
whether or not I enjoyed teaching. When she paused for a moment in her
questioning, I was able to slip in one of my own, "So, what do you do?"
"Well, actually, I am a judge," she replied looking at me
directly, with a faint smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.
"A judge? But you are far too young to be a judge!" I
responded incredulously, as I scrutinized her features more carefully, trying to
find some mark of age within them.
And now she
smiled fully, and nodded her head, clearly accustomed to such disbelief. "Yes,
I've been a judge for only a few years, and I am younger than most
judges."
"I think you are the first judge I have
ever met, and you are certainly younger and more beautiful than any judge I ever
expected to meet," I still couldn't quite place her in such heavy robes; within
such a serious profession.
"Well, I was recommended
for the position early by my mentor who was headed for retirement. I didn't plan
on becoming a judge so soon, but it was a good opportunity." 美惠 obviously could
view the astonishment on my face, and felt her position required a bit of
explaining.
In this moment, hundreds of thoughts rushed into and out of my
mind all at once. I wanted to ask her so many questions about the nature of
judging other human beings for a living. What did it feel like to determine
another's fate? Could she sleep at night after making such life-altering
decisions? Had she ever second guessed her own instincts and interpretation, or
wavered in the face of handing-down harsh punishments? But to ask such questions
would have been presumptuous: too intimate for a first meeting, and
inappropriate perhaps in such a relaxed atmosphere and setting.
Instead I asked her simply, "Do you find judging
interesting and enjoyable?"
"Yes, being a judge is
definitely interesting. It is not always an easy job, but I studied the law and
always knew that this is what I wanted to do," 美惠answered me just as
simply.
Our conversation was then interrupted by
Paul, her husband, who was eager to inform both Alex and I that he and美惠 were in
the process of forming a ska band. Paul was anxious to know whether or not Alex
would be interested, and if either he or I had any other musically inclined
friends. After throwing around this topic for awhile without getting an overly
enthusiastic response from Alex, Paul and美惠 exchanged glances, surveyed their
empty tonic water cans and began to excuse themselves.
As we said goodbye, I
felt as though I had missed an exciting opportunity to ask美惠 about her
livelihood. However, unable to broach such topics before, it was impossible for
me to do so now. I had to be content with a pleasant goodbye and heartfelt
wishes that we see each other again. Perhaps in the future she and Paul will
themselves be playing at our local, or in another small venue.
