Fox Spirit 83 – 9-11 through Other Eyes

“Maybe the Americans had it coming.”

            Sara stared at Trueheart in disbelief. “Those office workers, killed by madmen because they were in the wrong place, an iconic building. How can you say they had it coming?”

            “No, I didn’t mean them particularly,” Trueheart persisted. “They were’nt lucky. But don’t you see? These mad attacks, it’s the only path small countries have against America. Not that the attackers were right, but that I understand their wrong thinking.”

            Sara’s eyes narrowed with anger. “I do not understand you, Trueheart. Innocent people, doing their daily business, killed randomly. It was evil!  It was cowardly!”

            Trueheart shrugged. “Maybe, but it got America’s attention, yes?”

            “What are you saying?”

            “Only that it’s hard to get the American government, maybe the American people, to pay attention to what other countries think and feel. America bombs our Kosovo embassy, China protests, America just waves the protest aside. ‘It was a mistake, so sorry, won’t happen again. You other countries have to trust our good intentions because America is on the side of Right.’  America wants to sell American movies in Arabia, Arabs don’t like so much sex, nudity, and try to block them, and America waves the protest aside. ‘You have to respect Freedom of Speech!  You have to respect Women’s Rights!’  America is always convinced ‘We are right!’  Maybe other people have a different idea, but it’s hard to get America’s attention, you see?

            Sara stared at him, aghast. “Is this how you see America? Do you speak for yourself only” Her fists clenched unconsciously. She felt Storm move closer as her voice rose above the buzz of conversation at the bar. He put a hand on her arm, but she was not calmed.

            Trueheart went on slowly, as if choosing his words with care. “No, I’m not alone in this, Sai Le.  There are many who say that America’s foreign policy has caused this action. If you read the Internet comments from young people, you’d see this feeling. And there are even two Chinese Army officers who claim that the use by Al-Qaida of the airplanes as guided bombs was inspired by their book published two years ago. Some Chinese say these officers are heroes. I’m telling you the truth, though it is not good to hear.”

            Sara turned to Storm and said quietly,  “Let’s go. I want to go now.”  Trueheart rose from his chair as Sara and Storm left, as if about to speak more in farewell, but neither Sara nor Storm looked back.

            They picked up Richie from the Wang’s apartment and returned to Sara’s. Richie had been fed, and was already half asleep as they arranged him in the crib behind the screen.

            “I’m so cold,” Sara complained. It was far too early in the season for the wall heater in Sara’s apartment to be supplied with gas. Storm turned to the small gas burner with its kettle.

            “Shall we have tea?”

            “No, that will not help.”  Sara kicked off her shoes. “I am cold from the inside. Zhang has chilled my heart.” Storm took two quick strides and wrapped her in his arms. It was true – she was shaking. Her eyes were like dark pools in her white face.

            “I thought I was behind the mask,” Sara’s voice was wistful. “I thought I was getting to be part of your life, even part of Zhang’s life – someone he could argue with, tease, who would understand his anger and reply to his irony. But tonight… he talks about ‘America this…’ and ‘America that…’ and I feel I am outside again, behind a glass wall. And there are monsters. I’m so cold.” Her voice dwindled off.

            Storm held her, stroked her hair and shoulders. She quivered at his touch but did not turn her face to meet his.

            “Zhang did not say ‘you Americans’ as he used to,” Storm said softly. “He said ‘America’ and ‘they.’ He understands that you are not America.”

            Sara was still shivering. “Maybe… but there’s so much I don’t understand.”  She twisted in his arms, still not looking up at him. “I listen to Zhang;  I understand each word he says, but still I do not understand the meaning. He’s trying to explain evil, and there is no explanation, no justification possible. How could we be so far apart?”

                        Storm loosened his hold on her, drew back so that he could see at least a part of Sara’s face. “Maybe you are not hearing Zhang well. He is not excusing, not justifying. He agrees that the acts were evil. He only tried to explain why those young men acted so.”

             He let Sara go entirely, walked across the room, looked behind the screen where Richie was now sleeping quietly. Then he turned back to Sara, his face serious, eyes shadowed in the half-lit room. “You must know, Sara – these young Arabs are not so different from Zhang and myself, from the ones who built barricades against the tanks on 6-4 twelve years ago. Some of us thought we would die then; some of us did die. The history written by the government speaks of those who died as traitors, bad elements, counter-revolutionaries. The truth of what we believed will be buried with us. The truth of the young men who crashed those planes is also buried. This is what Zhang is remembering when he tries to explain to you.”

            Sara stared at him, sank onto a chair, and leaned against the table. “But it is not the same! Not the same at all! The students of Tiananmen didn’t kill innocent people! 6-4 has nothing to do with this!,”

            “Hush, huli jing. Richie sleeps.” 

            Sara stopped speaking, but drummed her fingers lightly on the table, gazing at nothing. He took a step toward her, but she raised her head and stopped him with a look. Her eyes were still dark pools, but her voice was shaking with emotion.

            “When you and Trueheart joined the students on 6-4, they carried a statue modeled on our Liberty. Now things have changed; Trueheart would quarrel with me just because I am an American face. When NATO bombed the Chinese embassy, you protected me. Now you make excuses for Trueheart as he explains why these evil people killed thousands of my countrymen. Why so changed, Storm?”

            “Why are you so slow to understand?” His impatient tone matched hers. “Perhaps if America had come to the aid of the students during their protests, our thoughts about America wouldn’t have changed. Perhaps if America hadn’t sided so many times against democracy, in Iran, in Chile, in Viet Nam, our thoughts about America wouldn’t have changed. We were naïve as students. After Tiananmen we learned that we have to find a different way for China.”

            “But, Storm, you’re speaking as if this destruction in New York were a game, played at a distance, a political exercise happening on the other side of the world. But can you not feel ? I do feel it. I feel for those people, going about their lives, drinking their morning coffee, hurrying not to be late to work. And then… nothing.”  Sara’s face was pale, her hands stretching out, fingers grasping. But Storm stood in the shadow, not moving toward her. His voice was cold as he answered.

             “At Kosovo, there were only three Chinese killed. At the World Trade Center, three thousand. Yet it is the same, what we felt, what you now feel. Those three Chinese also, going about their lives. Now will we understand each other better, or worse?  Are you listening, Sai Le?”

            Sara’s face twisted. “Those people were in a war zone; they were in the middle of fighting. It isn’t the same!” She turned from him angrily.

            Behind her Storm stood silent. When he spoke his voice sounded tired and far away, as if he were speaking to himself. “What is a life worth?  Those three Chinese. Those three thousand in New York. The others in the plane that crashed. Your husband. On some things, maybe we can never agree. Still you are my heart’s core. I cannot be here with your anger.” By the time Sara turned she could hear his footsteps on the gravel path.

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