Saturday, March 08, 2008

Motherland

Motherland
By Jasmine Low 

For my mother, Shirley Cheah.
Written intermittently between 2003-2008. 
Performed at Time Out KL's Launch Party in March 2008
Frangipani Bar, Changkat Bukit Bintang, Kuala Lumpur.


She’s there among us. 
She is our mother.

She is Chong Qing. 
As large as that 3,000 year old city of thirty one million individuals
She snuggles beside the thighs of Yangtze and Jialingjiang
And she breathes life
Last Sunday he was significantly impressed
Spotting her in dancing unison at the people’s park
A duck rice meal and she was off like the Chung King express
Qing Qing seals off her pregnant suitcase with red tape
Even redder is her passport, tightly concealed between her navel and navy jeans
And her cheeks, blossoming with that certain tell-tale glow

 

The women from China
My father would proclaim
Are so pure, so innocent
The women from China
My mother would blame
Are so profane, so manipulative
The women from China
And I, me in the middle
Are the centre of attention
We, are one for all
                 
We travel on an express train from Dusseldorf to Prague
And visit several bleak european cities
We are the new age Chinese female
And they know as they look at us with suspect
Nationality aside
We look the same
As do Greeks, Italians and even DJs of Ibiza fame
But we dress, think and eat different
Those women from China
Say those other women of similar heritage
Who live in lovely manicured gated communities,
Are dangerous!

 

They steal our husbands
They have children with the silly bastards
Then leave in search of their American Dream,
Leaving our poor bastards in a love stupor, unmasked and in trouble
We, are the new Chinese women
The daring females who voice opinions
We light up Chinatowns
And indulge in fusion conversations
Qing Qing from Chong Qing
Dons her wings
She is ready to take flight
Like a newborn bird leaving its nest for the first time

 

For when she lands
I will cease to exist
As I was once exotic, you see
Admired, desired, feared.
But now the multiplicity in WE
Our long black manes
Our phonetically similar names
Make us no different than just two independent women
Yearning for some space in this crowded crowded world.

- end - 

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