-^-for posterity-^-

the chinese house.

one friend of mine speaks perfect english. the words just flow from his gut, gracefully passing his throat and mouth. he never studied in a foreign country and is truly an anomaly. he works for a translation service. it’s the only place in long xuyen where you can get a document translated from chinese, german, french or english into vietnamese.

he seems to find surreal joy in teaching me vietnamese. i sit in the office of his translation company as he walks in front of a white board. he doesn’t require any money and the other staff members who don’t have anything to do amble about and help.

he’s been taking me to his friend’s house lately to teach me. his friend lives at the end of a small, grey alley. the alley will teach you anything you want to learn about vietnamese culture. the alley is a hotbed of action. people amble up and down on ancient bicycles carrying goods to and fro. they are all actors on a perfect set. the alley turns left and right and is cracked and worn. the walls of the buildings are a million different pastel shades. there is barbed wire and concrete. there are windows and doors.

the house is wooden and one story. five people live there and they all greet me friendly. we move to a back room and have a vietnamese lesson while one of the younger girls makes coffee for us. i sit and absorb everything.

after the lesson, it is time for lunch. lunch was prepared by a small lady and a few young girls. she tells them all what to do and how to cook and they listen and do not talk. at lunch, we talk about strange things. we talk about how much this vegetable cost at the market and how much beef costs in america. we talk about where fresh water comes from and how people in vietnam are used to eating while sitting on the floor. they laugh when i shift positions.

after lunch, they take me out back. that is where the action is. the family makes money by raising roosters. outside, they have seven roosters of different quality.

the outside courtyard is small and dirt covered. there are roosters sitting in cages constantly cock-a-doodle-dooing. they throw their heads back and their pea sized brain rattles around as they let out a scream of passion. one screams, then another, then another. they call for women and companionship. they hate their lives constantly battling with other males for some phantom women that never appears.

they take two roosters out of their cage to let them practice. cock fighting is legal here and betting is illegal. this is my first cock fight.

they put little boots on their feet to cover up the protruding spur. the boots are black and leather and are tied on. one man holds one rooster and another man holds another. the two roosters see each other. the feathers on the back of their neck spring into action. they are ready to kill for women. i know men like this.

the roosters are placed on the ground and they instantly attacked. a ring of men stood around them watching with anticipation. the two birds jumped at each other and the larger jumped higher. they flailed with their feet jabbing at one another. the birds swung around in a cloud of dust and jumped again. they circled slowly. the two birds were golden-mustard in color for the most part. their tails were green and blue. they stood and started at each other as only two birds with beady, black eyes can. they extended their necks flat and straight towards each other. the feathers on their necks were long and fanned out broadly. their heads were framed in a circle of golden mustard feathers. from the top, their necks looked pink and vulnerable. they circled some more and then jumped. they were locked in mortal combat and the winner would be the most virile. after five minutes of flapping and circling, they got tired. they started to do what boxers do when they get tired: they hug each other close and jab. their necks were wrapped around one another and they picked at each others feathers with their beaks. they pulled out clumps of golden mustard feathers and the owners pulled them apart. they jumped again but once again they resigned themselves to a tired match of pulling feathers. the fight ended and neither bird was more virile.

the owners removed the straps and put them in cages. the birds picked in the dirt and continued to scream lonesomely into the air.

i asked how much the birds were worth and one of them was worth 50 dollars. the 50 dollar bird walked around a small cage and ate rocks. the 50 dollar bird looked like it would be good to eat but i would only pay about .99 cents for a wing and a biscuit.