CHAPTER 5: The Debate
THERE
COMMENCED A DEBATE WHICH LASTED A WEEK.
Impatient, Nam left and camped by a creek.
He slept, or he sat and played tunes on a flute.
Or sometimes went hunting for ‘mandarin root,’
which he claimed made courageous folk out of the meek.
He sold it in town, though few bought his wares,
which also included some shriveled dry pears,
& glistening stones he said came from the moon,
as well as some feathers plucked from a loon,
which Nam took to the market and called ‘true love’ snares.
Nam sat in the sun one hot day on a stool,
trying to sell off in pieces a spool
of yarn he claimed was strong as a rope
because it had once been blessed by the Pope.
“You really must think each one of us is a fool...”
Nam, who’d been dozing, awoke with a start.
So startled was he that he let loose a fart.
A girl was staring him right in the face,
though because of the odor she backed up a pace,
and laughed as she clasped both hands near her heart.
Nam’s face turned the shade of the beets for sale
in the stall beside his—’Four bronzes per pail.’
“Who do you think you are, you, you... girl!”
Nam spat the word out, then tried to hurl at her
a petrified tiger’s tail.
She dropped in a crouch and caught the thing
with a move like an eagle flicking its wing.
Nam stomped and he cried, “You give me that back!”
Forgetting that he had launched the attack
with his out-of-control intemperate fling.
The
girl held the the tail against her cheek.
All of a sudden, Nam appeared quite meek.
“It’s soft as a kitten, two bronzes it’s yours...”
Nam’s face had turned friendly, not at all like hers.
“I can get one just like it down by the creek,”
she said as she stuck it behind her left ear.
“It’s not from a tiger like you tell people here.
It’s a plant that they call ‘tiger’s tail’ or ‘cat
tail.’
I spied and saw you put some in a pail.
You’re the world’s biggest liar!” she said with a sneer.
IN ONE QUICK HOP,
NAM LEAPED FROM THE STALL
and hurtled himself at her in a ball.
She sunk her knees & raised her fists,
grabbed him and then flicked her wrists.
Nam’s bold charge turned into a crawl.
As fast as he fell, he flipped on his back,
rolled to his feet and turned to attack.
“I know aikido and judo, too. You’re going
to look ugly when I finish with you,”
said Nam, whose eyes had turned quite black.
The girl just looked at him and said:
“I hope that you won’t end up dead,
but according to Master Sok Ho Kim,
‘Defend yourself to your last limb
when in your attacker all reason has fled.’”
Nam’s fist unclenched, he dropped them down.
His fierce scowl transformed into a frown.
“How do you know Master Kim’s words?
He is harder to find than blue-eyed birds,
and picks one student every thousandth town.”
“You are looking at one,” said the girl, whose eyes
Nam noticed had not once shown surprise
at any of the motions he had made.
She seemed, in fact, quite unafraid.
From Master Kim she’d earned this prize.
Nam had long sought such a guide,
unaware that teachers hide
from pupils who can’t wait to learn,
who seek them out at every turn,
filled with eager-beaver pride.
Nam had a thought: He would fight and test
this girl, to see if Master Kim was truly best.
After all, he too had trained for many years,
overcoming many fears.
He raised his fists & puffed his chest.
He circled round her, tossing jabs.
She mimicked him, they looked like crabs
jousting on a beach.
But neither crossed the other’s reach,
though Nam tried many different stabs.
A gong resounded loud and clear.
Nam stopped and pricked his ears to hear:
“They’re calling me, they’ve finished meeting!
That spared you, girl, a painful beating,”
Nam said, and grabbed his gear.
He ran away, straight toward the town.
It was the girl’s turn to frown.
She’d never met a boy before who’d ever once
intrigued her more,
though dumb and silly as a clown.
The boy was gone, the woods were still.
The girl then saw Nam on the hill
where stood the Royal Meeting Hall,
a place she’d always held in thrall.
She dashed, as if there were a dragon drill.
The old man selling beets looked up
from sipping something in a cup.
“Oy! Here’s to youth, which never thinks
an old dog catching forty winks
used to be like them, a pup!”
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