Fragment 1. Posted 18/09/2014.

I woke up on a hillside. It was warm, which was a good thing, as I wasn't wearing anything. There was moss and grass on the slope. Here and there was a stone or an outcrop of rock. It looked like morning. The hill was deserted, but for me, though I could see buildings below in the distance. Patterns of fields and woods spread out below. There were other low hills, but none nearby. It is a delight to enjoy the view from a high place. There is so much more to see. The sky is more than half the world. Fresh air exhilarates as it fills the lungs. Humankind is small, and looks manageable. A flick of the finger could remove one of those tiny houses, as one removes an insect from ones skin. Familiar places look strange, seen from a strange vantage-point. All of this looked strange. The houses were on a pattern I did not know, built low and square around courtyards. The roads seemed oddly straight, and unfamiliar to one used to meandering drovers' paths. The fields were small, and the crops were unusual colours. I was not hungry, but realised I might soon be so. Gingerly I picked my way down the slope. The moss and grass was comfortable underfoot. The stones rounded and easy to avoid. Small blue and yellow flowers decorated the grassy expanse. These, too, were unfamiliar. They had no scent. The landscape passed in a series of tableaux, as I watched the ground to see where I set my feet, and looked up to see where I was. The sky grew smaller, and the buildings larger, and I found myself approaching a group of sheds. I had not yet seen any people. There were troughs and wooden bins and discarded broken implements. The grass had given way to dust, that rose in little clouds with every footstep. I stopped and considered. I was a stranger here. It was tempting to examine the bins, to open shed-doors. Difficult to find food any other way, but that would lay me open to the charge of thief, if anyone was to see me. Better perhaps to knock on doors and throw myself on the charity of the neighbourhood. As I was deciding the best direction to go, a shadow passed my eye, and I found myself grasped by the neck, and moved towards the nearest shed. The wall slammed against my face with a shock that knocked my breath away. Blinking, I turned, and found it was a wooden hook, like a shepherd's crook, that held me around the neck, and another stick was knocking my hands away from my sides. It was an old woman handling the crook, and twisting it expertly so that I could not escape. She wore a wide-brimmed, low-crowned straw hat, secured by a broad ribbon tied beneath her chin. A large grey cloth jacket, fastened with large wooden pegs, wrapped her upper body. Below she had wide brown skirts, or rather, culottes, and stiff leather boots. Her skin was wrinkled and weather-beaten. She spoke, in a language I did not understand. I listened carefully. At first she spoke to herself, commenting on her catch. Then she addressed some questions to me. I shook my head and shrugged, and mimed as best I could my failure to understand. She nodded slowly, and looked me over carefully. She held my eye for a moment, and with great significance, lowered the second stick. I stood still, wondering what was to come, but it seemed that this itself was the test. I was docile. This brought her out in a broad smile, and her eyes disappeared in a web of wrinkles. Again she spoke, and gestured at me. It seemed that she wanted me to turn around. I embraced the dry timber of the shed wall as if it was a long-lost friend. She rustled and fumbled behind me, and I found that the crook was removed from my neck, and replaced by a loop of stiff cord. Using the stick, she gently encouraged me to walk before her, and we proceeded around the huts to a porch and door. She fastened the cord to an upright of the porch, and ushered me to sit on an upturned barrel. Chuckling, she disappeared into the shed and returned with an earthenware beaker full of water. I accepted it and drank gratefully. She gazed at me for a while when she took back the beaker, and mimed eating and, it seemed, waiting. I nodded, and she withdrew into the hut. The hut was of plain timber, lapped against the weather, but unpainted, except for the porch. The porch and eaves were decorated in an intricate fashion, with carved patterns. The paint had been bright once, but now was peeling and flaking. Here and there I could see a patch of gold-leaf. There were no windows, but rather small openings with shutters, that led me to imagine that it was a barn or storage-shed, rather than a habitation. Or perhaps, if she were a shepherdess, that it was a habitation that was a base of operations, chiefly, and that most of her time was spent out of doors. The old woman brought out a wooden bowl with a meat broth, spiced in an unfamiliar way. The smell made me understand I was more hungry than I had realised. In her other hand she held a horn spoon, but seemed in some doubt of it being needed. I looked her in the eye and held out my hand. With some surprise, she dropped the spoon into my palm. I smiled at her, and set to break my fast. She sat down on the porch and watched as if seeing something unusual. A naked man with a halter around his neck was not the unusual thing. The same man using a spoon, apparently was. She fumbled at her jacket, and filled a wooden pipe with shredded mixture, lit it, and sat smoking as she looked. Her mixture was not tobacco, and it was not kif. The smoke did not disturb my meal as I was afraid it might. An odd light came into her eye as she waved the lighted taper to extinguish it. She looked at me closely again, her wrinkled brows knitted in thought. Perhaps she should have expected me to fear the flame, but had forgotten in the practice of her habit. Once the bowl was emptied, I handed it back to her with a bow of thanks. She was now concealing her surprise, or coming to expect the unusual. She nodded back and took it into the hut. She stood in the porch and finished her pipe. Sometimes she would glance at me, otherwise she stared into the distance. Finally she examined the pipe and tapped the dottle out on the ground, and trod it into the dust. The pipe was replaced in its pocket. She secured the door of the hut, looked at me and shrugged. Then she unfastened the cord from the porch, and grasped it firmly in her hand. Using her stick to nudge me on the calves of the legs, she directed me to walk before her, and we strode out towards the village. We had not gone far before she paused, rootled around in her pockets and came out with a large seed in her fingers. This she gave me to chew. It was a cardamom. It was not long before we met one of her acquaintances, who called to her from a veranda. The old woman called back and they laughed for a moment. Her friend had long black hair, and a white pinafore apron. She looked every bit as old as the other. The veranda was carved and painted. The houses here were sometimes wood and sometimes plaster, and here and there a wall of brick or stone. The old woman would use her stick to nudge my leg if I strayed from the path she followed. She would wave her stick when she wanted me to turn, and we wove between the houses without incident. On our journey we only saw two women and a little girl, who stood and stared with mouth open. The way between the houses narrowed, and opened out into a square with trees. There were seats and flower-beds, and a well. It looked a pleasant place to linger, but the old woman made her way across the square and knocked at the door of one of the larger houses. After a few moments the door was opened by a maid. When she saw us she recoiled, as if startled, and moved away from me. She too had long black hair, and her features were asian. The old woman had the same cast of features, but age had blurred the characteristics. The maid was dressed very smartly in a black uniform dress with wide skirts, and a starched white pinafore apron. She had a dainty little white cap which was set on the top of her head. She asked the old woman her business, as I guessed, and the old woman asked to speak to the person in charge. The language was no clearer to me, but the scene was plain enough. The door was closed to, and we waited until a senior maid or housekeeper appeared, with more direct questions. These were answered calmly enough, and the housekeeper looked me up and down suspiciously. I stood calmly under her examination, and did my best to conceal my embarrassment, while trying to suggest that I was hiding nothing. Under the circumstances, this was my only possible course of action. More words were exchanged, and the housekeeper left. It is the business of a housekeeper to disapprove, and the housekeeper disapproved with a brow of thunder as she ushered us into the house with chill politeness. The young maid watched and followed in a mixture of fear and wonder. The house was a rich one. Here were tapestries on the walls, and clean tiled floors, and large ceramic vases. An elaborate wooden staircase led upstairs. We followed the housekeeper, and the maid brought up the rear. The housekeeper knocked at a door, and was bidden to enter. We stood carefully in a line and I studied the room. It was light and airy, with large latticed openings in one wall. There were finches in a cage by the lattice. A stack of shelves held what were clearly books, in an alphabet I did not recognise. The floor was mostly bare wood, but a rich patterned rug occupied the centre. The mistress of the house was seated at a desk, with a stylus or brush in her hand. This she set down, and rose to greet us. She was a tall lady, not old, and her long black hair was styled more elaborately than that of the maid and the housekeeper. She wore what seemed to be a dark corset over a gown of delicate red and yellow brocade, with skirts that swept and swirled about her. She held a pair spectacles on a short handle, and peered at me through them. The old woman tapped me with her stick to make me step forward, and had me turn around slowly at her bidding. She opened her mouth wide, and I realised I was to do the same. The mistress of the house delicately inspected my teeth. Nervously, the old woman used her culottes to brush some dust from my leg, and winced as the dust fell on the wooden floor. Then the haggling began. It frightened me. It was like a vicious argument with both parties slipping from hysterics to fury and back again. The maid and the housekeeper looked on imperturbably, and I understood that this was how business was conducted here. My neck was yanked half-a-dozen times by the cord as we pretended to leave, but finally an agreement was reached. A great show of reluctance was made by both parties. The mistress of the house signed some document, or perhaps it was a money order, and the old woman accepted it with clear disappointment. Some strings of copper cash were also passed over. The old woman ceremoniously offered the end of the cord to the mistress of the house, who touched it for form's sake, and indicated that it should be passed to the maid. The maid accepted it with alarm. The old woman turned to leave, and gave me a broad toothless smile. She patted me on the shoulder, and I think she winked. The housekeeper showed her out. The mistress of the house resumed her seat at the desk, and issued a series of orders at the maid, who seemed to be on the brink of panic. She uttered a dismissal, and the terrified girl fled, with me in tow. We passed down the stairs and through room after room, and collected another housemaid at the kitchens. This one looked more confident, and she followed me as the first maid led the way. A large arch led us out into the courtyard, which contained a garden. A loud hiss made us turn towards an arch opening to the outside of the house. The old woman stood there, at a metal grill which blocked the way, anxious to speak to the maids. She soothed the worried girl, and spoke at length to the other, who appeared to be memorising what she said. Then with nervous smiles from the girls and a reassuring one from the old woman, she waved and departed. We walked around the garden. It was not a big garden, and after we had circled it slowly three times, I realised something was expected of me, and I could not imagine what it was. The worried girl was looking more and more despondent. The other heaved a sigh, touched me on the chest and looked me in the eye. The she hitched up her skirts, squatted, and pissed on the flowerbed. When she finished she shook down her skirts and looked me in the eye once more, with mute appeal. I was to do the same. I had no need to squat, and after a moment was able to do as requested. The girls looked on with wide eyes. This was something they had not seen before. They exchanged looks and smiles, and the nervousness eased away. They were relieved and thoughtful as they led me to a tiled room with a grilled drain on the floor. A stone table carried bowls and ewers of hot water. There was scented soap, and rich coloured towels. They were to wash me. With some difficulty the knot was undone, and the cord removed from my neck. They sat me over the drain and poured hot water on my shoulders and on my head. They cleaned my hair with soft soap, and scented liquid, and rinsed it out. The girls poured water on my body, and carefully soaped me all over. Then they poured water to wash away the soap, and dried me with the towels. They smiled with satisfaction at a job well done. Tilting their chins, they indicated that I was to do the same. When I did so , they fastened a red leather collar around my neck. I did not see it then – there was no mirror in the room – but it was an elaborate collar with jewels that sparkled, and an inscription on a silver lozenge. The inscription said something like "property of the house of Meng Chu, in the village of Hwa Wen". Fastened to the collar was a long red leather strap with a loop. This replaced the cord, which was far too rustic and gave quite the wrong impression. A gong sounded, and the girls sighed with relief. They led me to an ante-room of the kitchen, where folding pallet-beds had been set out. The cook and another maid were already lying down. The girls took a slice of fruit each from a tray, and passed one to me. They indicated a folded rug in the corner, on which I was expected to lie down. The strap was fastened to a hook on the wall. I hesitated, as the rug was none too clean, and I felt it was a shame to undo my recent ablutions. The girls saw my hesitation, and finally, after some searching, produced another pallet bed. We composed ourselves to endure the heat of the day. The cook was soon snoring loudly, and the girls whispering fitfully to each other. I was asleep in moments. I heard the gong sound, and someone was shaking me awake. I roused myself from the pallet, but not quickly enough, and there was a cry of rage from the housekeeper. The pallet-beds were flung aside, and I was dragged into the courtyard and my wrists bound and fastened to a metal loop in the wall. One by one the girls were dragged out and fastened in the same way. The housekeeper produced a long thin stick, and harangued us with disgust. I had defiled the pallet-bed, by lying on it, and the girls were responsible for this disgrace. The housekeeper threw back her shoulders and lashed me with the stick. It stung. I yelled. She lashed again and I clenched my teeth. Then there was a voice from above. A figure stood on the first-floor balcony. The mistress had been disturbed by the noise and was asking the reason for it. This was explained, but the mistress did not like her new acquisition to be punished for such a trivial matter. She descended and examined the pallets. She spoke to the housekeeper with eyebrows raised. The pallets showed no evidence of their defilement. She inspected the pile of rugs and the corners of her mouth turned down. The mistress examined me, and seemed pleased at the improvement due to the wash. She issued an order. Our use of the pallet was sanctioned, and there was no offence to answer. The girls were released, tearful and trembling. The housekeeper knelt in apology, and the mistress gracefully contrived to excuse her diligence. Honour was satisfied and face was saved. A servant was despatched to remove and beat the rug. The housekeeper jerked her head towards the kitchens, and the girls fled there, taking me in tow. The cook was glad to see them, and immediately set them to work preparing vegetables. I began to understand that every room in the building had a convenient hook to which a leash could be fastened. I made myself as comfortable as I could on the tiled floor, and watched the activity. Some of the vegetables I recognised, others were new to me. The cook reserved the preparation of the meat to herself. The younger maid – as I thought of her – had been chopping pak choy, and was now set to chopping onions. The poor girl had no more sense than to rub her eyes, and soon was streaming in tears. I stood, and nudged her aside from the chopping board. Her eyes were streaming so badly, she must have thought I was one of the other maids, and stepped aside, handing me the knife. There was a quick intake of breath from the cook. I ignored it and chopped onions, leaning my head back, and keeping my hands away from my eyes. When all the onions were finely diced, I handed the knife back to the girl, handle first. Her eyes were wide with astonishment. Every figure in the kitchen had stopped to stare. I smiled and bowed, and stepped back. The cook waved for the onions to be passed to her. Everyone hesitated. The cook made an impatient gesture. The onions were handed over, and tipped into the big pot. Another wave of the hand indicated that the girls were dismissed. They were not entirely dismissed, as I was still in their charge. They brought me to a door which led into a narrow back street, away from the square. The street was cobbled with a channel in the centre for rainwater, and a drain at intervals. There were walls on either side, but no windows, and only now and then a door. I guessed that the houses here were built around central courtyards. After a few minutes' walk we found ourselves in a broad meadow at the edge of the village. There we walked and the girls worried an argument between them. They reached a conclusion, and stopped dead. One looked distressed, the other resigned. The younger one, with misgivings, reached up to my collar and unclipped the leash. I stood, uncertainly. The girl moved her hand back and forth, in a gesture meaning motion. For a moment I thought they were setting me free. Then I remembered I still wore the collar. I was being let off the leash for a run in the meadow. I dipped my head, turned and sprinted. The girls gasped behind me, and I turned my head to see them press their hands to their faces. I waved, and slowed to a more measured pace. I ran around the edge of the meadow, which was large enough, and was breathless and panting when I reached them again. I dropped to lie on my back. The girls patted and petted me in relief. A my breath returned, I saw that the sun had dropped lower in the sky. They followed my gaze, and jumped up. My leash was clipped on again, and we set off back through the narrow lanes to the house. The house was bustling as we returned. The girls were called to account, and I was released, off the leash, into the courtyard. The courtyard garden was a pleasant place to be, as the sun set. The scent of the flowers was strong in the heat, and made my head swim. I think I dozed with my eyes open. The light declined quickly, and houselights were lit: oil lamps, for the most part, but hung in large paper shades. It was pretty to see the brightness inside, and figures moving busily, while outside the stars were beginning to show. Movement in the kitchen and nearby was brisk. Towards the top of the house, the figures moved more slowly. The mistress was being served her evening meal. She was lingering over sweetmeats, and I could see the housekeeper proffer a water-pipe. The mistress waved her away, and turned her head, which was the signal for the dishes to be cleared. Her head turned towards the lattice and the courtyard, and her eyes met mine as I looked up and she looked down. It was too far away, and too dark, for me to read her expression. The kitchen was still busy. My attention had drifted to the stars overhead when a gong sounded. I wondered if this had anything to do with me. I did not have to wonder for long. The servants had all gathered in the kitchen, and the young maid stood at the door and whistled for me. I smiled to think of being called with a whistle, and then she called "Gwai-lo!". I stood, she saw me and beckoned me into the kitchen. The staff were seated around a refectory table. I was shown to a small stool and a low table by myself. The cook served ceramic bowls of food, and brought a full wooden bowl to my little table. As if by accident she dropped a pair of chopsticks on the table, and looked the other way. There was no conversation during the meal. Everyone tucked in and stuffed themselves as quickly as they could, and the only sound were slurping of noodles and clicking of chopsticks. I had not used chopsticks, but looked closely at how they were used, and imitated it. It was easier than I thought. Hunger makes a good teacher. Soon I was shovelling noodles into my mouth as if I had been practicing all my life. I looked up towards the table and saw that heads were turning my way. In the eyes of the cook I thought I read an expression of thoughtful satisfaction. When the bowls were emptied, teacups were passed out, and a plate of fruit and sweetmeats served with tea. My bowl was removed and returned filled with cold water, but again the cook contrived to leave a cup of tea and a small cube of pink confection on my table. The tea was green, and very pleasant after the meal. The confection was a kind of fudge that reminded me of barfi. The teacups were cleared away, and the washing up was done, and pipes were distributed. Each woman took one, even the younger, and lit it. The group then drifted out a different door into a separate courtyard. No-one paid me any attention, so I slowly followed. This was a servants' courtyard, and it stank. Around the wall was firewood, cut fine and neatly stacked. It seemed that their firewood was delivered ready-chopped. In the middle of the courtyard were two benches set above long metal troughs. Each bench had holes set through. It was the servants' latrine. The women smoked their pipes and chatted as they emptied their bowels. There was room for five sitters on each bench. When a person had finished, they used a scoop of clean earth to cover their leavings, and this helped reduce the stink. I could understand why everyone had lit pipes. The others stood and waited their turn, or stood to continue their conversation with those seated. Plucking up my courage, I took my place next to the cook. She turned from her chat to smile at me, and patted me on the leg in a friendly fashion. Afterwards I rinsed my hands in the stone bowl, and waited to see what would happen. The benches were moved aside, and an external door opened. One woman took an end of one of the troughs, and one took the other, and they lifted it through the doorway and set it in the lane outside. I guessed that some agency would collect or empty these during the night. Hoping to show willing, I took an end of the other trough. One of the maids took the other end and we set it to be collected. The street was in darkness. None of us wanted to linger. The air of the servant's courtyard was fresher now, and work had finished for the day. Belts were loosened, collars unfastened, and caps removed. The servants now drifted through the kitchen and beyond, to a tiled room similar to the one in which I had been washed. The pipes had disappeared, and everyone was now chewing on little wooden sticks. There was a pot of these sticks on the table. I took one, chewed it, and found it tasted of liquorice. There was a technique to chewing the stick. First the end was chewed, to separate the fibres. Then the fibres were ripped and nipped to make a ragged sort of brush. This brush was used to clean the teeth. No-one spat – there was no toothpaste. Each woman pocketed her stick, as this was to last her some days. As I had no pockets nor sleeves, I tucked it behind my ear. I felt a hand on my shoulder. The cook gently withdrew the stick, and steering me through to the kitchen, set it significantly on the ledge of the lattice next to the low table reserved for me. She looked at me to make sure I understood, and I nodded. Back in the washroom, the women had stripped to the waist to wash. It startled me, although I should have expected it. It was a distraction to me, and I flushed, though the women had no thought of embarrassment. The cook herself had peeled off her clothes and was soaping herself, and called to the others to see my rising colour. There was laughter, and some of the women twisted their bodies to let me see the best of them. They smiled and chatted as they washed, and I gazed my fill, until the maid delegated to attend to me pulled me over to a vacant basin and soaped my face. When I had rinsed and dried myself, we were alone. She emptied the basin, blew out the lamp, and led me past the kitchen to a narrow stairway. We followed the stairway to the roof, where we threaded our way through cloth partitions to a quarter with two pallet beds, one wide, one narrow. A sort of pergola had been set up, and this was used to hang the awnings that gave a measure of privacy. It was also used to hang a fine mesh over the beds. There was no mesh over the narrow one, which I realised was mine. The other maid was already sitting on the larger pallet, which they shared. I lay and watched the stars and listened to the girls' murmuring chat. The younger one was called Shrr Li, and the older Xu Xan. I caught some other names or titles, although it was only later that I learned that the cook was known as Ma Chao, and the housekeeper as Ma Peng. The mistress, it seemed, was Meng Chu. With dismay, I heard the whine of a mosquito. I poised myself, alert, and waited until I felt it puncture my skin. I slapped. It sounded like a shotgun. The conversation ceased abruptly. The girls exchanged a few words, and were silent until I heard another whine, and felt the bite. I slapped, and the noise resounded. From the larger pallet came a whisper, "Gwai-lo!" and a beckoning arm. Gratefully I crept inside the netting. There was not much room, but we managed. Under the starlight, and safe from biting insects, I fell asleep.