Monday, December 11, 2006
Pinochet's Death
Readers (well, not more than a handful) who know P would wonder what has that got to do with her? P is neither interested nor well versed in politics to start a discourse on the implications of his death to the reactions of the Chilean population or on the legacy he had left behind with his drastic economic reforms.
While all this is happening today, P was trying her hardest to draw blood from stone in coming up with a eulogy she had to write on behalf of a parent. Yes, she is morbidly interested in Death and yes, she likes to secrete her juices in more ways than one. Ahem, one being the obvious- writing, but to undertake writing a eulogy for a highly revered spiritual leader that she does not really know albeit a few hazy memories honed from childhood of having met the benevolent old man who got (was conned and) flown in to bless their house (by a charlatan monk whom, having promised her gullible parents upon receiving “charitable donations” gave the senior monk the impression the designated site to be blessed was a school which he kindly obliged) in the midst of its grand construction during their hey days where the stock market was collapsing and their wealth multiplied. She reckons her parent(usually wise) does not realise the significance and honour associated to the power being handed over for the immortalization of one’s history. Of all times, this is not the best time to allow the errant daughter to take a free rein in testing out her creativity, especially when it is intended for publication!
****
She now recalls a distant memory where she was eight.
The year was 1987 and it was the one and only time she has visited Thailand and her very first ride on the plane. And it was all very exciting.
It was a spiritual trip for the adults. They went to the temples to visit the monks that they have made acquaintance during their periodic visits to Singapore.
P remembered spending some afternoons in the abovementioned monk’s monastery.
It was one of those hot humid afternoons and P and her siblings were done with playing in the courtyard and being fascinated with the wandering poultry.
The adults seemed to have lots to discuss with the spiritual elders. The revered monk ordered two of his young disciples who were not more than twelve years of age to set up mats and triangular pillows for the girls to take a nap in airy, open air guest room at the wooden planked building supported by stilts.
She was fascinated with one of the darker and handsomer boy monk. Being precocious even at that age and being well aware that these boys are not even supposed to be in close contact to the opposite sex, she was tempted to use her little feet to brush across his forbidden arm and seduce him.
Such a naughty girl she was and a devil’s advocate she still is…;)
****
Oops, P has just digressed.
Yes, she meant to talk about Pinochet.
Well, not really- someone related to the nationality of Pinochet.
The person is none other than M.
She wonders what is his view of Pinochet. Funny, she never asks him- whether him and his parents were a great supporter or not. The dictator had lost his power in 1990. M would be seven then and why did his mother deem Santiago a better place to raise the children than London?
She is sure M would have a view on politics. After all, he came from a highly intellectually charged background. His Dad’s a war correspondent (he even went to Jerusalem with his Dad during those peace talks in 2005; must mean something significant to him- P only realized during M’s last visit that his Dad’s side is Jew and his grandparents fled Austria during WWI) and his mum used to write for The Financial Times. Pincohet did a lot to contribute to Chile’s economic progress and M, a first class honours in Economics would definitely have a view. Today, must be an important day for both supporters and opponents of Pinochet in Chile. The irony- the man who made Chile one of the most economically progressive nations in Latin America will not receive a state funeral!
Strangely, she found an article written by M in 2005 on the Chinese economy today. Shame that the yahoo translator translated the Spanish article poorly into English.
Coincidentally, China allows greater access by foreign banks today.
She hopes to search more, she knows he writes more than that. He mentioned once that he writes to a Chilean newspaper every now and then. He is quite the clever thing!
She has forgotten how much younger M really is. In fact, she never thought to have liked a younger boy but with him, she feels young and in love once more…
Bit by bit, she continues to dig further to know her Beautiful Boy to uncover a little bit more about his talents…
Quietly, she wonders with whom would he be spending the coming NewYear?
****
Reports also mentioned that Pinochet’s death led to some demonstrations in the city center. Two of the local banks were damaged.
She wondered if one of the banks belong to Random George’s family. According to M, their family owns one of the oldest investment bank in Chile.
Random George who had forced himself on her. Too much weed and drinks (while her thoughts were still on “The Aura” whom she had met that night at the same bar; M saw her too that night but it was only a week after that they met), she obliged not without much resistance. Now where did he come from- he was the ultimate one nightstand. She remembered staring at the ceiling and half thinking repeatedly, “ This is THE one nightstand and I am in one…” while he was at it.
Ah well, considered an experience experienced! (Or two in one)
The next morning when she left with her girlfriend (who slept on the other side of the wall with his housemate; the only reason why P even bothered to do sleepover), they laughed so hard and P called them “The trash can Couture sisters” before reality sinked in…
Her consolation was that he resembled Malc (the fling whom she was enamoured with and whom she feared for his aloofness) in looks, physical statue and aloofness, albeit one white and one Asian version. Spookily, both have mothers who died of cancer!
And perhaps the sex was better than with W, which she would like to obliterate from remembering that experience at that point in time. Now everything can only be slightly amusing...
The next morning when she woke up, she noticed that random George like reading books written by the same author as she did. Even afterwards, when she still hung out at their place post Random George and M whirlwind romance(the boys went to the same British school in Santiago; how very incest of P and even more later, when George seemed to have taken a liking for M’s younger sister) with the other girls, sharing wine, whisky and joints (always the top grade smuggled from Amsterdam, the extension of George’s largesse), amidst her hazy state, she liked to test her own sobriety and was found to share similar appreciation of The Wall Street Journal as Random George who had subscribed for it to be sent to his temporary residence in Le Marais to keep himself up to date in preparation for his heavy responsibilities in years to come. After all, he is the oldest pedigreed son who had to carry the family tradition in learning the ropes of an investment banker.
She also realized that Random George tends to be as cold as anything even to his male friends. He never melts his cold exterior and maintains an exceptionally practical demeanour. Even when a fellow female of friend puts her arm around him, he instinctively shrunk from the touch and drew an invisible perimeter around himself. Really, George is a poor little rich boy- with an eccentric but enterprising father that has a new wife, a younger rock band chic brother who went in and out of rehab, a bi-polar mother who died of cancer after ten years of battling it and him and his brat-pack friends donned a bad reputation as recreational cocaine users at dance clubs (in Chile, it’s ok to do weed but cocaine, that’s a no-no, according to Pato) perhaps to indulge and forget it all. So that is how he braced himself for the lonely world.
Silently, she wondered about his emphatic (but somewhat tender) tone that night (“I can be your boyfriend!”) while they fucked , did he feel really lonely? After all, he was in Paris, a city of romance and what better place to take a lover? The boy has money (almost every weekend he would travel to a different part of Europe since he had no luck at having a girlfriend; he smell and dressed differently from what one would expect from a resident of a developing nation; but then again, all the three boys were well traveled and dressed and were privately educated in the British Grange School and are permitted with traveling passports); all he needed was some loving.
Like the Beatles’ song, “All you need is love, love… love is all you need…”
Ah well, P did compromise and gave him a bit of loving that night. Don’t say she didn’t ;)
****
Gosh, Pinochet’s Death is stirring up some candid thoughts and confession from P.
If ever one is to ask what is the impact of Pinochet’s Death on people, well, he sure has liberated P’s skeletons laden soul!
