Sió Lé-phín | 小禮品
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[Ná-chhiūⁿ Meksiko kám-á-tiàm thâu-ke, ūi-tio̍h kám-siā lí ê kau-koan, tī lí lī-khui ê sî, ke khǹg chi̍t-ê mi̍h-kiāⁿ ji̍p lí ê tē-á nih chò sió lé-phín (pilón). Kám-siā lí lâi thiaⁿ góa ê kò͘-sū (cuentró), tī chia góa boeh ke kóng chi̍t-ê kó͘...]
Tī Cinco de Mayo Ke, Café la Blanca thâu-chêng, chi̍t-ê ká hong-khîm ê lâng teh ián-chàu "Farolito (kó͘-á-teng)" chit-siú koa. Bê-chùi tī ai-siong ê im-ga̍k, chē-chē lâng hō͘ i gîn-kak-á, in-ūi he hō͘ in koh siūⁿ-khí Sîn só͘ chhōa-cháu ê lāu-pē, ài-jîn a̍h gín-á ê kì-tî.
Bē-su hit-ê im-ga̍k, ùi góa bē-kì-tit ê bó͘ chi̍t-ê sî-kan, ngiáu tāng chi̍t-tè góa ê sim-koaⁿ. Ùi chá-chêng lâi. Bô oân-choân sī chi̍t-ê sî-kan, sī chi̍t-ê kám-kak. Ná-chhiūⁿ lán siūⁿ-khí ê kì-tî, tô͘-siōng bông-bông, ui-ui, m̄-koh lán í-keng bē-kì-tit hō͘ hit-ê kì-tî chheng-chhó͘ ê koan-kiān mi̍h-kiāⁿ. Tī chia, góa í-keng bē-kì-tit chi̍t-ê sim-chêng. Mā m̄-sī sim-chêng, koh-khah chún-khak lâi kóng, sī chi̍t-ê chûn-chāi ê chōng-thài.
Góa ê sin-khu í-chêng kin-pún m̄-sī góa ê sin-khu, góa kin-pún to bô sin-khu. Góa tō ná-chhiūⁿ sîn-lêng án-ne, sī chi̍t-ê sîn-lêng. Góa sī chi̍t-ê tī tē-kiû téng phiau-liû ê kng-kiû. Góa sī kóng chheng-chhun-kî í-chêng ê góa, hit-tiâu âng-sek Rio Bravo Hô lí tio̍h chhōa ka-tī kòe.
Góa m̄-chai cha-po͘ gín-á sī án-chóaⁿ. Góa m̄-bat sī cha-po͘ gín-á. M̄-koh, cha-bó͘ gín-á tī, pí-lūn kóng, 8 hòe kàu chheng-chhun-kî tiong-kan, bē-kì-tit ka-tī ê sin-khu. Tī hit-tōaⁿ sî-kan, yi chin bē-hiáu chiàu-kò͘ ka-tī ê chheng-khì, boe̍h-á làu-làu, kha-thâu-u m̄-sī o͘-chheⁿ tō-sī lâu-hoeh, thâu-chang chhàng giâ-giâ ná-chhiūⁿ sàu-chiú. Yi bô teh chiò-kiàⁿ. Yi bô chù-ì ū-lâng teh kā khòaⁿ. Iáu-bōe ì-sek tio̍h yi ê sin-khu ē ín-khí cha-po͘-lâng kā khòaⁿ. Bô kám-kak tio̍h cha-bó͘ sin-khu ê piàn-hòa, sin-khu ê chho͘-tāng, thoa leh kiâⁿ chin thó-ià. Iáu bô-lâng ē in-ūi lí ê sin-khu chhòng-tī lí, táⁿ-kek lí, phe-phòaⁿ lí chi̍t sì-lâng ê kiaⁿ-hiâⁿ. Chit-ê sî-tōaⁿ, lí khòaⁿ chi̍t-ê sió ko͘-niû, chù-ì tio̍h che sī yi siōng bái, m̄-koh, tông-sî mā sī yi siōng hoaⁿ-hí ê sî-chūn. Yi sī chi̍t-ê sîn-lêng siōng chiap-kīn sîn-lêng ê chûn-chāi.
Jiân-āu, hit-tiâu âng-sek Rubicon Hô. Éng-oán bē hoan-thâu. Góa ê ì-sù sī, bē tńg-khì hit-ê kok-tō͘.
Góa ē-kì-tit, tòe hit-ê kám-kak tī "Farolito" ê im-ga̍k tiong phiau-tāng, chin chē mi̍h-kiāⁿ, hiah-nī chē, lóng tâng-chê chhut-hiān, ta̍k-ê lóng to̍k-li̍p, bô kāng, khiok lóng cháu chò-hóe. Góa ê chi̍h téng-bīn ū chi̍t-chióng kiò Glorias ê thn̂g-á bī. Tī Caleta hái soa-po͘, chi̍t-ê phôe-hu ná cajeta, ná iûⁿ-leng thn̂g-á ê cha-bó͘ gín-á. Hit-ê thn̂g-á sek phôe-hu ùi Acapulco ê chúi-pho chhut-lâi, kiâm-chúi sūn lí ê thâu-chang lâu-lo̍h, sīⁿ tio̍h lí ê ba̍k-chiu, hit-ê goân-sí ê hái-iûⁿ khì-bī, hái-iûⁿ ùi lí ê chhùi hām phīⁿ cháu chhut-lâi. Goán lāu-bú kō͘ chúi-kóng kā dahlia hoe ak-chúi, mā kā chúi ak tī ka-tī siang-kha, he sī Indian ê kha, kāu koh sì-kak, como de barrto, ná-chhiūⁿ Meksiko chho͘-hûi ê âng-thô͘.
Góa m̄-chai pa̍t-lâng án-chóaⁿ siūⁿ, m̄-koh tùi góa lâi kóng, chiah-ê mi̍h-kiāⁿ, hit-tiâu koa, hit-ê sî-kan, hit-ê só͘-chāi, lóng kap góa su-liām ê kok-tō͘ pa̍k chò chi̍t-hóe, hia í-keng bô chûn-chāi ah. He m̄-bat chûn-chāi kòe. Chi̍t-ê góa hoat-bêng ê kok-tō͘. Tō ná-chhiūⁿ só͘-ū ê î-bîn pâi-hôe tī chia kap hia tiong-kan kāng-khoán.
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[若像 Meksiko kám 仔店頭家, 為著感謝你 ê 交關, tī 你離開 ê 時, 加囥一个物件入你 ê 袋仔 nih 做小禮品 (pilón). 感謝你來聽我 ê 故事 (cuentró), tī chia 我欲加講一个古...]
Tī Cinco de Mayo 街, Café la Blanca 頭前, 一个絞風琴 ê 人 teh 演奏 "Farolito (鼓仔燈)" 這首歌. 迷醉 tī 哀傷 ê 音樂, 濟濟人予伊銀角仔, 因為 he 予 in koh 想起神所 chhōa 走 ê 老爸, 愛人 a̍h 囡仔 ê 記持.
袂輸彼个音樂, ùi 我袂記得 ê 某一个時間, 撓動一塊我 ê 心肝. Ùi 早前來. 無完全是一个時間, 是一个感覺. 若像咱想起 ê 記持, 圖像濛濛, ui-ui, 毋過咱已經袂記得 hō͘ 彼个記持清楚 ê 關鍵物件. Tī chia, 我已經袂記得一个心情. Mā 毋是心情, 閣較準確來講, 是一个存在 ê 狀態.
我 ê 身軀以前根本毋是我 ê 身軀, 我根本 to 無身軀. 我 tō 若像神靈 án-ne, 是一个神靈. 我是一个 tī 地球頂飄流 ê 光球. 我是講青春期以前 ê 我, 彼條紅色 Rio Bravo 河你著 chhōa 家己過.
我毋知查埔囡仔是按怎. 我 m̄-bat 是查埔囡仔. 毋過, 查某囡仔 tī, 比論講, 8 歲到青春期中間, 袂記得家己 ê 身軀. Tī 彼段時間, 她真袂曉照顧家己 ê 清氣, 襪仔 làu-làu, 跤頭趺毋是烏青就是流血, 頭鬃聳夯夯若像掃帚. 她無 teh 照鏡. 她無注意有人 teh kā 看. 猶未意識著她 ê 身軀會引起查埔人 kā 看. 無感覺著查某身軀 ê 變化, 身軀 ê 粗重, 拖 leh 行真討厭. 猶無人會因為你 ê 身軀創治你, 打擊你, 批判你一世人 ê 驚惶. 這个時段, 你看一个小姑娘, 注意著這是她上䆀, 毋過, 同時 mā 是她上歡喜 ê 時陣. 她是一个神靈上接近神靈 ê 存在.
然後, 彼條紅色 Rubicon 河. 永遠袂翻頭. 我 ê 意思是, 袂轉去彼个國度.
我會記得, 綴彼个感覺 tī "Farolito" ê 音樂中飄動, 真濟物件, hiah-nī 濟, lóng 同齊出現, 逐个 lóng 獨立, 無仝, 卻 lóng 走做伙. 我 ê 舌頂面有一種叫 Glorias ê 糖仔味. Tī Caleta 海沙埔, 一个皮膚 ná cajeta, ná 羊奶糖仔 ê 查某囡仔. 彼个糖仔色皮膚 ùi Acapulco ê 水泡出來, 鹹水順你 ê 頭鬃流落, 豉著你 ê 目睭, 彼个原始 ê 海洋氣味, 海洋 ùi 你 ê 喙和鼻走出來. 阮老母 kō͘ 水管 kā dahlia 花沃水, mā kā 水沃 tī 家己雙跤, 彼是 Indian ê 跤, 厚 koh 四角, como de barrto, 若像 Meksiko 粗瓷 ê 紅塗.
我毋知別人按怎想, 毋過對我來講, chiah-ê 物件, 彼條歌, 彼个時間, 彼个所在, lóng kap 我思念 ê 國度縛做一伙, hia 已經無存在 ah. 彼 m̄-bat 存在過. 一个我發明 ê 國度. Tō 若像所有 ê 移民徘徊 tī chia kap hia 中間仝款.
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[Like the Mexican grocer who gives you a pilón, something extra tossed into your bag as a thank-you for your patronage just as you are leaving. I give you here another story in thanks for having listened to my cuentró ...]
On Cinco de Mayo Street, in front of Café la Blanca, an organ grinder playing "Farolito." Out of a happy grief, people give coins for shaking awake the memory of a father, a beloved, a child whom God ran away with.
And it was as if that music stirred up things in a piece of my heart from a time I couldn't remember. From before. Not exactly a time, a feeling. The way sometimes one remembers a memory with the images blurred and rounded, but has forgotten the one thing that would draw it all into focus. In this case, I'd forgotten a mood. Not a mood -- a state of being, to be more precise.
How before my body wasn't my body, I didn't have a body. I was a being as close to a spirit as a spirit. I was a ball of light floating across the planet. I mean the me I was before puberty, that red Rio Bravo you have to carry yourself over.
I don't know how it is with boys. I've never been a boy. But girls somewhere between the ages of, say, eight and puberty, girls forget they have bodies. It's the time she has trouble keeping herself clean, socks always drooping, knees pocked and bloody, hair crooked as a broom. She doesn't look in mirrors. She isn't aware of being watched. Not aware of her body causing men to look at her yet. There isn't the sense of the female body's volatility, its rude weight, the nuisance of dragging it about. There isn't the world to bully you with it, bludgeon you, condemn you to a life sentence of fear. It's the time when you look at a young girl and notice she is at her ugliest, but at the same time at her happiest. She is a being as close to a spirit as a spirit.
Then that red Rubicon. The never going back there. To that country, I mean.
And I remember along with that feeling fluttering through the notes of "Farolito," so many things, so many, all at once, each distinct and separate, and all running together. The taste of a cararmlo called Glorias on my tongue. At a Caleta beach, a girl with skin like cajeta, like goat-milk candy. The caramelo color of your skin after rising out of the Acapulco foam, salt water running down your hair and stinging the eyes, the raw ocean smell, and the ocean running out of your mouth and nose. My mother watering her dahlias with a hose and running a stream of water over her feet as well, Indian feet, thick and square, como de barro, like the red clay of Mexican pottery.
And I don't know how it is with anyone else, but for me these things, that song, that time, that place, are all bound together in a country I am homesick for, that doesn't exist anymore. That never existed. A country I invented. Like all emigrants caught between here and there.
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