Transcript for the Piece Audio version of Mei Mei, A Daughter's Song

MEI MEI:

A DAUGHTER?S SONG

a radio documentary

by Dmae Roberts

Copyright ? 1990 by Dmae Roberts. All rights reserved. No part of this documentary may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For information contact Dmae Roberts, 104 SE 57th, Portland, Oregon 97215. (503) 233-2919

Mei Mei: A Daughter?s Song
By Dmae Roberts

Dmae:
Just remember, this isn?t about me. It?s about my mother. About growing up with her. Just remember that.

Sound: street chatter, park sounds in different languages

Dmae:
Mother and I took a trip to Taiwan together, my birthplace and hers. I thought it would make us closer, help me understand her better, but the fights got bigger, more intense and now we don?t speak to each other.

I don?t know when I started calling her mother. It was a conscious decision though to go from the Mama, what all Asian daughters call their mothers, to the more formal ?Mother.? I guess? (laugh) no, I know I was ashamed of her, The way she embarrassed me, calling out to me from the other end of a K-Mart store, yelling at the top of her lungs. Everyone in Taiwan yells. I understand that, at least now. Other mothers were reserved, educated, went to PTA meetings, baked cookies. I pronounced ?fork? ?hork? because my mother couldn?t say ?f?s? very well. English wasn?t my first language but then,

Background sound: people speaking

Dmae:
I?ve forgotten my first language. My mother never read to me because she didn?t know how to read or write. I was different: half Taiwanese. It was always an isolating thing to tell my friends, stranger than all the fairytales other mothers told their kids.

Sound: Singing, continues through the story

A story. There once was a girl who lived in a poor village during a time of draught. One day, while gathering bundles of sticks for firewood, she heard someone singing high in the mountains. She followed the sound, and discovered a beautiful woman singing near the edge of the lake. ?I am the daughter of the dragon king,? she said. The peasant girl sat beside the young singer and talked of her village and its need for water.

?My father keeps the key to the gates of this lake. If you sing with me, perhaps then the gates might open.?

Sound: music, singing

Dmae:
In Taiwanese Mei Mei means little sister. It is a term of endearment for any little girl. But there are no pictures of my mother as a little girl. No baby pictures, no pictures at all until she was grown up. She was born in 1932, right before World War II sold by her own parents, not just once, but twice to work for other people. Her step-parents she called them

How long ago was it last time you were in Taiwan?

Mother:
I told you 25 year. Why you want me to repeat?

Dmae:
Try to pretend you haven?t told me anything. Just try to pretend that. It will make it a lot easier. So how come they sold you?

Mother:
I don?t know. They say they can not take care of me.

Dmae:
Was it really sold or was it just adopted?

Mother:
They say they sold.

Dmae:
For how much?

Mother:
In Japanese, twenty yen.

Dmae:
Twenty yen?

Mother:
I know, hardly any money.

Dmae:
How?d you feel?

Mother: [(with Dmae repeating the same words in an overlay] I don?t have any feeling. I don?t have a feel and I don?t care, there?s nothing I can do about it.

Dmae:
I?m the only human being on this earth who understands everything my mother says in English. The subtitles, the undertones, the quotation marks that underlie her words. People may get every-other-word, but I hear everything. They may think she?s cute when she?s angry, sweet when she?s manipulative, simple when she is truly devastated, but I understand everything. Her words that is.

Music: [continuing under speakers]

Narrator:
Why are your fingers so crooked? Your fingers so crooked?

Dmae:
I asked that once. Her hands are strong and beautiful with long fingernails, but she can never completely straighten her fingers.

Narrator: [speaking in Chinese then translating]
My real parents sold me. They were poor. I was two years old in Chinese age, one year old in American time. I was sold twice. Twice I was sold. The first parents were not unkind. Were not loving. Were not unkind. Again, I was sold. (Taiwanese word) in Taiwanese, (repeated word) A daughter to daughter-in-law. Sold to marry the son in the family. I was twelve. (Taiwanese)

Dmae:
They sold her. She?s never felt secure, never loved, never happy. She could never show love the way I saw on TV with American families, with words, with physical affection. The only thing I wanted to hear from her was ?honey, you?re beautiful and I?m proud of you.? I never heard those words. No one said those words to her when she was growing up. Or course I could never say those words to her. And I could never show love in the ways that mattered to her. With a sense of devotion, to act as the dutiful Taiwanese daughter. That was not part of me.

[Taiwanese words with an echo affect]

Narrator:
She beat me if the clothes were not clean, she beat me. Steel Chopsticks, Hibachi chopsticks she put my hand in between them and squeezed, and squeezed. My fingers. Why are you fingers so crooked? [with Dmae voice echoing the question] (Taiwanese)

Mother:
I don?t have a feel. Just like I don?t care. Nothing I can do.

Narrator [with echo]:
Mei Mei, it?s not your time yet, not your time. Mei Mei (Taiwanese)

Music: Taiwanese opera. [Continues under Dmae?s words]

Dmae:
When I was growing up I used to listen? actually, I used to not listen to my mother?s Taiwanese opera records. The noise filled the house. It was an embarrassing sound, especially when she sang along. The banging on gongs, clanging of instruments really irritated me. Qwang Qwang. That?s what Daddy called it, ?qwang qwang.? I used to think it was a Taiwanese word for opera, but it means loud noises, disruptions. Loud noises?

Music: [alone. Then continuing under words]

Dmae:
There was always the sound of battles in my house, the clash of cultures between my Taiwanese mother and my Oklahoma country boy father it is not quiet. Later, my mother and I would clash, would fight.

Music: with cymbals. Stops when words start

Mother:
We talk the Chinese, you don?t understand, we talk the Taiwanese, you don?t understand

Dmae:
And I came to understand that the clanging of the opera was not just clanging, it was the sound of battle. A call for warriors to come to the fight.

Cymbals

Mother: (Taiwanese)

Music: continues under speakers

Mother:
Buddha was taking me to heaven and I see that it?s different people over there, no have house. I don?t see any tree, except, you know, the sky beautiful. But they don?t see floor either. They stand out there. They don?t fall. They just look all smoky you know, and all different color people. I didn?t want to come back but she says, you should come back. It?s not time yet. (Taiwanese).

Dmae:
She used to talk about Buddha. [echo] Buddha, the Lady Buddha. Buddha, the Lady Buddha. Her name was Quanin She sounded beautiful. With long hair piled up high. Dressed in white. The Lady Buddha. She sounded beautiful.

Music: alone and then ends

Narrator:
There was war. (Taiwan) with a bamboo stick. My mother, my older brother? I carried bundles on my back. I washed clothes. I cooked. I scrubbed the floors. I kept the fire burning inside the house. There was war. (Taiwanese)

Sound: people and clanging

Dmae:
Did you see any bodies?

Mother:
You always see some bodies hanging. A head on a telephone wire.

Dmae:
You Always?

Mother:
Yeah. You always see hanging, on a head on a telephone wire. Or hanging dead.

Sound: echoing and clattering noises

Mother:
They got machine gun. They?ve got 50 kilo bomb. I think B 25, B-29. I always forget, one?s a machine gun, one?s a 50 kilo bomb.

Sound: people talking

Dmae:
She made me eat everything on my plate, whether I liked it or not. Whether I was hungry or not. If I refused, she told war stories, how when she was ten years old, she had to wash the maggots away from the rice before cooking it. That really made me want to eat my dinner.

Music: continuing under speaker

Narrator: :
When it was bad, when it was bad we ran to the mountains, ran to hid. So little food. I ate slowly. I ate after they ate. Rice, some vegetables, no meat. When the good was gone, we came down from the mountains to get more food. I remember planes shooting at us. The American planes shooting would shoot at the Japanese, would shoot at us as we ran. Shooting at us. [soft machine gun noise]

Dmae:
There was a rich family she said who had a bomb shelter underground. She begged them to let her in.

Narrator:
.(Taiwanese) Only room for us.

(Taiwanese)

I hit my hands against the door. A plane, b-29, b-25, b-29? I ran, behind me, an explosion: the family?s shelter. I wouldn?t look. I didn?t look. I knew, I had seen arms and legs hanging before, on telephone wires, on electric poles. I had seen pieces of bodies before, I knew. I ran. Buddha gave me power.

Sound: talking/singing background

Mother:
(Lady Buddha name in Taiwanese) you understand. (name again) That?s her name! (name again) We talked to Chinese, you don?t understand. Talk to Taiwanese, you don?t understand. It?s called (Taiwanese) You understand (Taiwanese)?

Dmae:
No, but you can tell me about it.

Mother:
We talked to Chinese, you don?t understand, talk to Taiwanese, you don?t understand.

Sound: bells and singing. Continues under voices.

Narrator:
I was hanging and Buddha stopped me. Buddha gave me power. She said, it?s not your time yet.

[music ends]

Mother:
I was thirteen and fourteen. I tried suicide three times.

Dmae:
How?

Mother:
Tried to hang.

Dmae:
You tried to hang yourself?

Mother:
Yeah.

Dmae:
Three times?

Mother:
Yeah.

Dmae:
How come?

Mother:
Because I didn?t want to live. That?s why how come. Nothing happy to live for.

Dmae:
No, that?s terrible. A terrible thing to do to?

Mother:
And Buddha?s come and stop me. Buddha gave me pause.

Dmae:
How did she stop you?

Mother:
I don?t know how to explain it! She come down here.

Dmae:
Did you actually tie a rope up?

Mother:
Yeah, and Buddha come down and turned me loose.

Dmae:
You were hanging?

Mother:
Yeah.

Dmae:
And she turned you loose?

Mother:
Buddha come down and stop me.

Dmae:
Did she say anything, do anything?

Mother:
Yeah.

Dmae:
What did she say?

Mother:
She told me that I have a long way to go. That?s why I got power for Buddha (name in Taiwanese)

Sound: chanting continues under speaker

Narrator:
The first time I tried to kill myself, I was thirteen years old. I tied a sheet to the ceiling in a circle. I put my head in the circle. I was hanging and Buddha stopped me. I was hanging and Buddha stopped me. Buddha gave me power. She said, it?s not your time yet. But my life was terrible. I tried to hang myself three times. And each time, Buddha stopped me. Then I would fall asleep and dream of her. (name) (speaking in Taiwanese) So beautiful, (Taiwanese) She took me to heaven. I flew. Up and up. My feet never touched the ground. Her feet never touched the ground. And I saw heaven. So beautiful, so beautiful, so beautiful. All different colors of people. No houses, no trees, just beautiful clouds. I didn?t? want to go back. I didn?t? want to go back but she said I had to. I didn?t want to go back but she said it wasn?t my time yet.

Music: [echoing words]

Dmae:
So how does Buddha talk to you?

Mother:
Every time that I sleep and have a dream. Take me some place. Teach me how to fly

[echoing words]

Dmae:
Does she say anything, do anything?

Mother:
Yeah.

Dmae:
What does she say?

Mother:
(Taiwanese) It?s gonna be, I got a long way to go. That?s why I got power. That?s why I have power from Buddha (Taiwanese).

Echoing voices: Run..

Dmae:
After the war in 1945, there was even more poverty, even less food. Girls there just didn?t leave their families. But she did. I had to admire her guts. I remember a fiery young woman when I was five who once disrupted a whole Taiwanese police station because someone stole our suitcases. God, the way she fought. People were hanging out the window to watch my mother fighting the police. Later on, I adopted that fierceness when we fought together. Yet, I protected her from the people who didn?t understand her, made fun of her accent, tried to treat her as a simple child when she was not. I had and still have this fierce loyalty to my Mama.

Narrator: [beat begins, under]
Fifteen years old, I could not feel hate. Could not feel hurt, could not feel. Run away, must run away, (Taiwanese) They wanted to send me away to be a prostitute. I never went to school. Always work, work. Always must work. Never learned to speak Chinese, to read and write. Once I was sick with Malaria from a mosquito bite. Sick, so sick I nearly died. Sick, so sick but they would not spend money for a doctor.

[alternating between ?run? and (Taiwanese word) over the beat]

Music: stops.

Music: continues under speaker

Dmae:
In Taiwan, cemeteries are built on hills and from a distance, the tombstones resemble eyes and mouths, doorways from this world into the underworld.

Mother:
Passing the cemetery at midnight, I see the, I don?t see the girl?s face, but her hair, real long, sit on top of the stone. This you don?t want to see, you shouldn?t go to see. It kill you, you never know.

sobbing: continues under narrator:

Narrator:
(Taiwanese) Nighttime. There are ghosts at night time. I walked 6 hours in the dark, no lights.

echoing

Narrator:
You must not bother ghosts in the nighttime. If you see one, it would be in the cemetery. A beautiful one with long black hair that falls to the ground. Do not bother her. She is a ghost. If she turns to look at you, her tongue will roll down from her mouth. You will die in fear. Do not bother ghosts. (Taiwanese)

Sound: voices, echoes, bells, music, repetitive voice. Ends as speaker starts

Dmae:
I started doing housework when I was seven years old. I cooked and did dishes. I wasn?t careful so I broke things. Mother screamed at me in Taiwanese and then in English, spanked me, scared me. These are times I truly thought she was insane. She?s the only person who could totally incense me. As a teenager I remember her screaming at me about something and I was washing a knife and for a minute, I imagined? But I stopped myself, It scared me that I had even thought such a thing. Maybe Buddha was there for her that night too.

Later I learned that her outbursts were a result of her not being able to communicate her frustration at the foreign language, this foreign country. Hoping to live the rich American life? She would always have to work, still works, and she wanted a daughter who would be her partner, who would help her run that Chinese restaurant of her dreams. Some one who could read and write, who could keep the books, who could speak and be taken seriously. And that was never me.

Music: continuing under speaker

Narrator:
Mei Mei, it?s not your time yet. (Taiwanese) It?s not your time yet.

Music: with incorporated train whistle.

[fade out: music]

Narrator:
The lady look at me. She asked if I would work for her, as a housemaid. If I would work, she would pay me. She would pay my train ticket to Taipei. She would pay me. (Taiwanese) Buddha was there that night. Buddha, the woman who paid my train ticket. And I went with her, Buddha was there with me that night. She said, Mei Mei, it?s not your time yet. Mei Mei your time yet.

Transition: singing

Mother:
I wanted Buddha to take me to heaven. I didn?t want to come by. She told me it?s not my time yet. And my time will come, back to my home.

[fade in: music]

Narrator: [with music continuing]
A story. So the two girls sang together at the edge of the great mountain lake. The dragon king?s daughter and the peasant girl from the village. The music was so lovely the gates to the lake opened, slowly releasing the much-needed water to the villagers. The two girls looked at each other and laughed. They had saved the village but they had also become friends.

Mother:
I didn?t know, my mother didn?t care for me.

Dmae:
You must hate her.

Mother:
I don?t hate her.

Dmae:
I don?t hate her. I can?t talk to her, I?ll never understand her. The love is there because it has to be. She?s my mother. I wish, (laugh) what? That she?d been happy growing up, that somehow she didn?t pass on her desperation, her sadness, her legacy to her selfish American daughter? I wish. Maybe then we might have been friends.

[mother and daughter laughter, and words of Taiwanese.]

Dmae:
The one time we laughed together the hardest on our trip to Taiwan, I had to tell the upstairs neighbors to be quiet so I spoke in a broken combination of Chinese and sounds affects.

Mother: (Taiwanese)

Dmae:
[laugh], yeah what was I suppose to say (sound)

[laughing]

Dmae:
I know he?s saying, ?who?s out there? (translation) She thought it was the funniest thing she?d ever heard.

(both women speaking Chinese and laughing)

Dmae:
The laughter lasted longer than any bad memory I ever held onto.

[laughing]

[children?s playing]

fade in: music

Announcer:
Mei Mei: A Daughter?s Song was written, produced and designed by D. Roberts. Music compositions and engineering by David Patchke with additional music by Trey Gunn. Technical Assistance by Ron Royer.

Featured voices were: D. Roberts, Chu- Yin Roberts, Lucinda Wong, and Mei Jen with songs by the children?s choir. Mei Mei was mixed at WJHU-FM, John Hopkins University.

Funding was provided by the National Endowment for the Arts, the Oregon Arts Commission, and SoundPrint.

fade out: music

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