The rat in the year of the monkey<\/p>\n
Dewi Anggraeni<\/p>\n
Our next-door neighbors Quentin and Ania, are having a dinner
\nparty for six at their home, to celebrate the Chinese New Year.
\nChinese New Year's Eve, to be precise.<\/p>\n
Neither Quentin nor Ania are remotely Chinese; Quentin's
\nancestors were English and Ania's Irish. The other couple, who
\nlive across the road, are of Scottish and Macedonian descent.<\/p>\n
Christian and I are the only ones who can be called Chinese in
\none way or another.<\/p>\n
My father is a Chinese-Indonesian who married my mother, a
\nfourth generation Australian of English descent, and Christian's
\nmother is a mixed-race Chinese-Indonesian, who now lives with his
\nFrench father and his two sisters in Paris.<\/p>\n
Since we just moved into the area last month and have only
\nproperly met Quentin and Ania last week when they came to
\nintroduce themselves, we really don't know what to expect. We
\nboth work during the week, and have spent the weekends unpacking.<\/p>\n
In fact, we still have three tea-chests-full of furniture and
\nknick-knacks sitting in the half-furnished family room.<\/p>\n
The thought of having to go out again after a grueling week at
\nthe office makes me want to scream. The house in fact, is
\npulsating with tension. We walk past each other, Christian trying
\nto outdo my frown, take showers in turn, get dressed on different
\nsides of the bed, all in silence.<\/p>\n
Christian thought I was particularly ungracious when he told
\nme he accepted the invitation two nights ago.<\/p>\n
I guess I was. Ungracious. I groaned.<\/p>\n
How could he expect me to be happy and cheerful?<\/p>\n
He was leaving for the Gold Coast on Friday morning for a
\ncompany raa raa without me. Still, he must have felt slightly
\nguilty because he finally agreed to delay his departure to Friday
\nmorning instead of Thursday afternoon. The following evening he
\ntold me he'd accepted Quentin and Ania's invitation.<\/p>\n
"Why didn't you check first with me?" I asked testily.<\/p>\n
"I knew you were taking Friday off," he replied, dismissing me
\nby walking away, after giving me that French shrug, which by then
\nhad lost its sexiness on me.<\/p>\n
Traveling the 70-meter distance to our neighbor's front door,
\nwe independently rearrange our facial expressions.<\/p>\n
Christian presses the doorbell and promptly puts his arm round
\nmy shoulders. I am just about to shake his arm off me when the
\ndoor bursts open and Ania's wide smile makes me feel I've just
\nbeen caught doing something mean.<\/p>\n
"Hi," I say bashfully, trying to relax my shoulders.<\/p>\n
"Hello! I'm so glad you were able to come tonight, at such
\nshort notice, too! Please entrez!"<\/p>\n
She pushes the thick wooden door wide open, then moves to the
\nside to let us in, calling to Quentin inside, the base of her
\nstraight golden hair sliding this way and that on the shoulders
\nof her red silk cheongsam.<\/p>\n
As we follow Ania into the house, the interior decor catches
\nus by surprise. Except for the wooden verandah visible through
\nthe wide open french windows where the railing is beautifully
\nrustic and chunky, anywhere else you look makes you think you are
\nin a house in Shanghai, instead of an outer suburb of Melbourne.<\/p>\n
"Glad you guys could make it." Suddenly Quentin is standing
\nbeside me, his face beaming a warm welcome.<\/p>\n
"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Christian replies before I
\ncan even think of a single word.<\/p>\n
Quentin stands tall in his loose trousers and Chinese jacket,
\nall in black silk. He doesn't look quite as exotic as Ania. He
\nhas dark hair, but his tell-tale Caucasian nose and thick neck
\nremind me of an old Hollywood film where the character of a
\nChinese patriarch was played by a white actor in drag.<\/p>\n
We are milling around on the verandah, drinking an alcoholic
\npunch and munching on some tidbits served on a Chinese lacquered
\ntray, when Sheila and Nick arrive.<\/p>\n
Sheila looks slightly uncomfortable in a royal blue cheongsam
\nthough the body-hugging outfit makes her decidedly sexy, and
\nNick's black silk suit is almost identical to Quentin's, except
\nthat his has blue trim and Quentin's red.<\/p>\n
When I've overcome the feeling of gate-crashing someone's
\nfancy-dress party, I begin to enjoy myself, Christian having
\nstarted long before that. Christian is unflappable, a quality I
\nadmired in him when we were still going out together, which
\nturned into a source of irritations after we got married.<\/p>\n
My enjoyment does not last very long. Sitting on a bench seat
\nin the middle of the verandah, I watch my husband with a
\ncombination of envy and exasperation at how he commands the
\ngroup's attention without even trying.<\/p>\n
He doesn't even realize that I'm being driven senseless with
\nmosquito bites. How can I drop a hint to the others that the
\nmosquitoes are eating me alive when they, even the women, are all
\nfar more covered than I am? Besides, aren't they all enthralled
\nby Christian's stories about his childhood pranks in Montmartre?<\/p>\n
I begin to scratch. I scratch and hit with open palms at the
\nmosquitoes who must think it is Christmas.<\/p>\n
Finally Ania turns and realizes what is happening when she
\nsees all the red spots on my arms and neck.<\/p>\n
"Good gracious, Tika! You poor thing! Come inside, let me get
\nyou something for that. Gosh I'm sorry! You must be all
\nitchy."<\/p>\n
She pulls me by the arm and leads me to the bathroom, opens
\nthe drug cabinet and takes out a small brown bottle labeled
\ncalamine lotion.<\/p>\n
"Well, I'll leave you to it, Tika," she says, walking out.<\/p>\n
I hear the doorbell from the bathroom and footsteps rushing to
\nthe front of the house. When I step out of the bathroom,
\ndelicious smells of Chinese food has already filled the back part
\nof the house. In the dining room the table is already set for a
\nfamous Chinese dish, steamboat. I find the kitchen where a man
\nand a woman in white chef jackets and chef hats are busy
\npreparing to serve. Then I hear Ania's voice calling everyone to
\ncome to the table.<\/p>\n
Ania suggests that spouses be seated apart, so when Quentin
\ninvites me to sit next to him, I accept with a smile and take the
\npreferred chair he pulls out.<\/p>\n
The food is delicious, the wine perfect, and I am enjoying the
\ncompany. Having the two chefs cum waiters serving there is no
\nneed for Ania or anyone else to run around making sure everyone
\nis being looked after.<\/p>\n
The conversation becomes inevitably focussed on Australia's
\nrole in the war on Iraq, and its subsequent responsibility in the
\nrebuilding of the war-torn country. All six of us agree that the
\nIraqis need help, with each wanting to contribute an original
\nangle to the same argument.<\/p>\n
When seemingly intelligent opinions are being expressed,
\nChristian has to say something embarrassingly banal.<\/p>\n
"I am just so sad," he says, putting down his glass of
\ncabernet Malbec, 'that I have to tell my children, that by the
\ntime I am thirty-two I already have witnessed two Gulf wars...'<\/p>\n
"Oh! You're a rat!" Ania suddenly stops him in his tracks.<\/p>\n
"Pardon?" Christian's facial expression says he can't have
\nheard it correctly.<\/p>\n
"So am I," says Ania. "We were born under the Chinese zodiac
\nsign of the Rat. Get it?"<\/p>\n
"Ooooh," Christian's face relaxes, and the whole table roars
\nwith laughter.<\/p>\n
"Christian, you obviously hadn't realized, Ania has been
\nstudying the Chinese horoscope for years. And beware, before you
\nknow where you are, she'll be reading your sign like a book!"
\nNick says, laughing.<\/p>\n
The topic of war and national responsibility is promptly
\ndropped, and we all want Ania to tell our fortune.<\/p>\n
"Let's introduce our signs first. As you know, I am a Rat,"
\nsays Ania again, then turns to Nick.<\/p>\n
"I am a Booaar!" declares Nick, pushing his chest forward. And
\nturns to me.<\/p>\n
"I'm a Wabbit," I say, trying to be cute, and failing
\ndismally.<\/p>\n
"I'm a Dog. Woof, woof!" says Quentin.<\/p>\n
"I'm also a boar," says Sheila.<\/p>\n
"Well, so I am a Rat," Christian says, delivering the words
\nwith a shrug and a bemused expression.<\/p>\n
Ania then describes the Rat personality: Charming, extremely
\neasy to get along with, hard working, has a disarming manner even
\nwhen confronting someone.<\/p>\n
Suddenly the itch I felt earlier from the mosquito bites
\nreturns in full force. The tension makes me drop a chopstick.<\/p>\n
Quentin turns to me, and with a sympathetic hand on my
\nforearm, says, "You don't agree?"<\/p>\n
I don't answer immediately. Accepting a pair of clean
\nchopsticks from one of the chefs, I say, "Let's say those were
\nthe positive aspects..." and decide not to continue.<\/p>\n
Ania places her chopsticks on their stand beside her bowl and
\nraises her hand in a placating manner. "Ahaa, I know. There is a
\nnegative side. I can say this because I'm also a Rat."<\/p>\n
"Come on," prods Nick, "give us the negative side, then!"<\/p>\n
"All right, all right! Loves to criticize, compare and carp,
\nand tends to be self-centered."<\/p>\n
I clear my throat demonstratively, ignoring Christian's dark
\nlooks which he disguises in a mock-hurt dry smile.<\/p>\n
"What about the Rabbit personality?" asks Christian suddenly.<\/p>\n
Ania smiles. "Gracious, well-mannered, kind and sensitive to
\nbeauty."<\/p>\n
It's Christian's turn to clear his throat. "And er, the
\nnegative side?"<\/p>\n
"Sometimes appears a bit slow and overly deliberate, you know,
\nfor example, they will read the fine print before signing any
\ndocument."<\/p>\n
Again, Quentin puts his hand on my arm. "That didn't sound
\nlike a negative side to me. What's wrong with being prudent?
\nAnyway darling, why don't you tell us all, how we fare under the
\ncheeky monkey?"<\/p>\n
Ania looks around. "Who first?"<\/p>\n
The party becomes rowdier with laughter and grunts of
\ndisbelief as Ania dishes out her predictions for the Rabbit, the
\nBoar, and the Dog, leaving the Rat till last.<\/p>\n
She sits up and faces Christian, trying to summon a serious
\nexpression.<\/p>\n
"Well, fellow Rat, we have a challenging year ahead.
\nCareerwise we will achieve a lot, but we need to be extra-
\ncareful, because there are traps along the way, some even set by
\nourselves for our adversaries..."<\/p>\n
A mango sorbet served with a very fruity sauterne closes the
\ndinner, and we retire to the lounge in various degrees of
\ninebriation, drinking beautifully roasted and percolated coffee,
\nwhile the chefs pack up in the kitchen.<\/p>\n
When Ania returns inside from seeing the chefs off, she says
\nto Quentin. "I saw a rat running along the side of the house, and
\nit was huuuuge!"<\/p>\n
Quentin is too tipsy and happy to take his wife's report
\nseriously. "Any wonder when the chefs probably fed him our
\nleftovers?"<\/p>\n
Ania collapses into the couch beside her husband. "All right,
\nas long as you catch it if it comes into the house!' she says,
\nthen to the others, 'Quentin can catch mice or rats with his bare
\nhands."<\/p>\n
"Eerrrgh!" Sheila shrieks, shivering visibly with disgust.<\/p>\n
"Look, it's nearly midnight!" Nick points to the oriental
\nmantle clock.<\/p>\n
"Gong Hee Fat Choy! Here's to the year of the Monkey!"<\/p>\n
We all clink our champagne glasses together, drink the
\ncontents, then hurl ourselves into indiscriminate hugging and
\nkissing.<\/p>\n
As Nick and Sheila, Christian and I say goodbye to our host
\nand hostess, then stagger across to our respective abodes, I
\nthink I hear someone saying how fortunate we are, not having to
\ndrive home.<\/p>\n
It is midday when I finally fling myself out of bed, not even
\nmissing Christian, and mid-afternoon before I feel motivated to
\ngo for my weekly shopping. Then as if to make up for the wasted
\nmorning, I go into a frantic cleaning and tidying-up mode. I
\nempty one more tea-chest, rendering the house significantly more
\npresentable.<\/p>\n
Then I carefully drag the empty chest into the cellar where
\nChristian has meticulously stacked all his bottles of wine.<\/p>\n
Back in the kitchen I heat a frozen packaged dinner in the
\nmicrowave, and take it to the living room. When alone I always
\neat in front of the television.<\/p>\n
A horrible, somewhat muted screeching noise wakes me from a
\ndreamless sleep. Then I hear a strange repetitive clacking noise
\nmoving away from the kitchen toward the stairs into the cellar. I
\nsit bolt upright, and still with my heart beating wildly, I run
\nto investigate.<\/p>\n
What I see nearly turn my knees to jelly. Scrambling back to
\nthe living room I look up Quentin and Ania's phone number with
\ntrembling hands, and have difficulty pressing the right digits on
\nthe phone pad.<\/p>\n
"Ania! Kartika here," I can't help panting, "can I borrow
\nQuentin?"<\/p>\n
"Sorry?"<\/p>\n
"Ania, your rat, your rat, is in my house, caught in our tiny
\nmousetrap, running around with the trap stuck to its snout! Quick
\nAnia, before I faint!"<\/p>\n
"Quentiiiin!" is what I last hear.<\/p>", "url": "https:\/\/jawawa.id\/newsitem\/the-rat-in-the-year-of-the-monkey-1447893297", "image": "" }, "sponsor": "Okusi Associates", "sponsor_url": "https:\/\/okusiassociates.com" }