Hawaii - James Michener [610]
At the mention of her name, which in that form she did not recognize, Nyuk Tsin looked at the cameras, but her great-grandson said hurriedly, "Look over here. This is the examiner, Mr. Brimstead," and the announcer explained who the distinguished visitor from Washington was. The lights were adjusted; Nyuk Tsin began to sweat in nervous apprehension; and Mr. Brimstead, who was proving to be quite a ham on his first appearance before a camera, asked in a sweetly condescending voice, "Now tell us, Mrs. Kee, who was the father of our country?"
The official interpreter shot the question at the old lady in Hakka, and both Hong Kong and Eddie smiled superiorly, because they knew that Wu Chow's Auntie knew that one.
But there was silence. The cameras ground. Mr. Brimstead looked foolish and the Hakka interpreter shrugged his shoulders. "Wu Chow's Auntie!" Eddie whispered hoarsely. "You know. The father of our country!"
"Now, no coaching!" Mr. Brimstead rebuked. "This has got to be an honest examination."
"I wasn't coaching," Eddie pleaded.
"He didn't say nothing," the interpreter said in English.
"All right!" Mr. Brimstead snapped. "No coaching. Now, Mrs. Kee," and his voice was all honey again, "who was the father of our country?" And again the interpreter droned in Hakka and again there was silence. In agony Hong Kong stared at his grandmother and opened and shut his fingers by his mouth, signifying, "For God's sake, say something."
But the scene was too vital for old Nyuk Tsin to absorb. All her life she had wanted to belong: first to her brave and gallant father, whose head had perched in the village square; then to her Punti husband, who had scorned her big feet; then to her children, who were afraid of her possible leprosy; then to America, which had repulsed her as it did all Orientals. Now, when all that she hoped for was attainable, she fell mute. She heard no questions, saw no men, felt nothing. But she sensed inwardly that some golden moment, some crystal opportunity that would never come again was slipping by, and she looked up with mute anguish at the people about her.
She saw kindly Mr. Brimstead, almost wetting his pants in his eagerness for her to say something so that he could appear in the moving pictures. She saw bright young Eddie, who had coached her. She saw resolute Hong Kong, who must be praying for her to save the family reputation. And then over Hong Kong's shoulder she saw an official government etching of a long-dead hero with a determined chin and a three-cornered hat, and she heard as from a great distance the Hakka interpreter begging for the last time, "Mrs. Kee, tell the man, who was the founder of our country?" And with the floodgates of passion breaking over her, she rose, pointed at the etching of George Washington, and screamed, "That one!”
Then she started: "The capital of Alabama is Montgomery; Arizona, Phoenix; Arkansas, Little Rock; California, Sacramento . . ."
"Tell her that's enough!” Mr. Brimstead shouted. "I didn't ask that question yet."
"Keep those cameras grinding," the director shouted.
"You!" Hong Kong shouted at the interpreter. "Keep interpreting."
"The legislative passes the laws," Nyuk Tsin cried, "and the executive administers them and the judicial judges them against the Constitution."
"It's enough!" Mr. Brimstead shouted. "Tell her it's all right."
"And the Bill of Rights says that there shall be freedom of worship, and freedom of speech," Nyuk Tsin continued. "And no troops may search my house. And I may not be punished in cruel ways." She was determined to omit nothing that might swing the decision in her favor. "There are two houses in Congress," she insisted, "the Senate and the House . . ."
When she left the Immigration building, with her citizenship proved and in her hand, the Kees who had been waiting outside cheered, and she passed happily among them, speaking to each and asking, "What is your name?" and when they told her, she was able to place each one. And as she ticked off her great family she realized for