Wild Ginger - Anchee Min [21]
The wind rose. It almost blew my basket away. I picked up a couple of rocks from the side street and placed them inside the basket to hold it. I asked the woman behind me to watch my spot. I said that I needed to pee and would be right back.
I found Wild Ginger's stall in the middle of a group of seafood preparers. They were on the side of the market where the wind blew like slashing whips. Wild Ginger was bundled in scarves and rags. Sitting on a small stool, she held a Mao Quotation Book in her hands. She was wearing a pair of fingerless gloves. Two pieces of plastic, tied at her knees, shielded her lower legs. In front of her a washboard lay flat side up. On top of it rested a pair of rusty scissors and a crook-toothed knife. Three metal buckets stood in front of her. I assumed that one would be for fish scales, another for squid bones, and the third for heads, tails, and intestines. Next to the buckets was a jar covered with a piece of towel. I assumed that it was warm water.
The bell rang. I rushed back to my spot and picked up my basket. The crowd began to push forward. The fish booth was sealed by the human wall. The line moved slowly. Everyone watched the pile of fish getting smaller and smaller. We all prayed that there would be some left for us. "It looks like you will be the last," the woman behind me said. "Would you let me have a little for watching your spot for you? My daughter-in-law just had a baby."
I nodded. My turn came. The squid were gone. The eels were gone too. There was only one beltfish left. I passed the fish to the woman and ordered the rest of the snails. It was about a pound and a half. The human wall around me collapsed in disappointed sighs. The clerk began to scrub and wash the booth.
My feet landed in front of Wild Ginger. She was busy preparing a beltfish. Using the knife she skillfully scrubbed off the silver-colored scales and deposited them in the bucket. Then she picked up the scissors and started to take out the intestines. Once in a while she dipped her fingers in the warm water. I was sure the water was icy cold by now. There were a few cuts on her fingers. They were bleeding.
"Are my snails ready yet?" a customer asked Wild Ginger.
"Coming up," Wild Ginger answered apologetically without raising her head. "I've already cut half and I'll finish the rest in a minute after this one."
"My snails were here before someone else's fish," the customer complained. "I thought you said first come first served. You are a liar and I won't come to you again."
"I'm terribly sorry, madam," Wild Ginger said as she put the fish in one basket and picked up the snails. She talked with her hands moving fast. The snails dropped into the basket as if from a machine.
I moved up. My basket was right by her head. "Service, madam?" She pulled over my basket. "I am good and quick. I charge a cent cheaper." She was talking to me.
"I'll never come to you again," the snail lady complained. "You haven't finished with one customer and you have started to grab another. How greedy!"
Wild Ginger tried to move her fingers faster. The blisters on her palm and around her fingers looked swollen. The blood from her cuts mixed with the eels'. Wild Ginger's scarf got blown off by the wind. She reached out her right leg to hold the scarf down while her fingers continued to work with the snails. "Madam, I'll give you one cent back for the delay."
"You ought to," the woman said.
"Wild Ginger," I called.
She raised her head. "Maple!" She turned to the lady. "She is no customer. She's my friend."
"Hurry up!" The woman was irritated.
"Thanks for the business. Thanks for waiting." Wild Ginger was talking to me.
"May I help?" I offered.
"I'm almost done. Don't dirty your hands. The stink will stick to you all day. Here you are, madam, done." She shoveled the finished snails into the customer's basket.
The woman gave Wild Ginger a dirty look. She threw three cents to her and walked away.
Wild Ginger began to work on my snails as I went to fetch vegetables. By now the day was bright.