Memoirs of an Ice-Cream Lady (Part 33)
By Emily Ho
Editor’s Note: The author runs an ice-cream parlor on Hong Kong’s Lamma Island. When time allows, she draws caricatures and writes. The following are semi-autobiographical anecdotes blending fact and fiction.
Grand Uncle Six
“Hide away quickly. Don’t make a noise!” Emily’s mother told her children.
“Bang! Bang!” From outside, someone knocked hard at the wooden door.
“Bang! Bang!” The knocks came louder and faster as the mother and children trembled, clinging together in the bedroom almost like Jews hiding from Nazis in the Holocaust. Emily felt so frightened that she nearly forgot to breathe.
“Open the door! I know you’re in there,” a man’s voice shouted.
“You’re ruthless people,” the man yelled. Angrily, he kicked the door with a sandal-clad foot before leaving.
“Damn it!” He cursed, noticing blood on his toes from the kick.
As the occupants regained their breath, the telephone suddenly rang, stunning them all like a thunder strike.
“No one answer that call! It could be him. Maybe he’s still nearby,” Emily’s mother whispered, pressing her face to the door.
“Who was it, Mom?” Emily asked.
“Grand Uncle Six, stupid,” Emily’s eldest sister teased. “He’s the one who takes heroin. He came for the money to buy drugs. Understand?”
“I… I don’t understand. We’re so poor. We have no money to give him.” Still confused, little Emily stood with her head bowed, wondering if she was really dumb.
But one thing she did understand was that drug users like Grand Uncle Six lost something precious – their dignity. At that moment, she decided never to take illegal drugs.
A Collective Slur
‘Where do you live, Emily?” asked a Western man who once worked with her.
“On Lamma Island,” Emily replied.
“Do you use drugs? I’ve heard that lots of Lamma people do,” he said.
“No! That’s absolutely not for me! Yes, some people there do drugs, like in most communities.” Emily defended herself and tried to “protect” Lamma’s beautiful image, yet she knew her home island definitely had drug problems.
But for all the drug-free Lamma residents, like Emily, the man’s words amounted to a collective slur.
The Bad and the Ugly
On an ordinary business day, a Lamma guy came to buy ice cream and then asked to use the restroom in Emily’s shop.
More than 15 minutes passed, but he stayed inside the tiny room. Deciding to check on him, Emily knocked at the door.
“Mister, are you okay?” she asked.
“Everything’s fine. I’m coming out now.” The man’s voice sounded distorted as if he held a grape in his mouth. Then he opened the door and emerged, but his eyes lacked focus and he walked as if stepping on clouds.
Immediately after he left, Emily opened the restroom door and saw a disgusting scene.
“Oh, my goodness!” she screamed. “How dare he did drugs in my shop?” A needle lay in the sink surrounded by bloodstains.
Carefully, Emily pulled on gloves, put the needle in a small plastic box and ran tap water to wash away the blood. Greatly relieved, she dumped the needle and her gloves into a rubbish bin.
Later she complained furiously to a friend. “How selfish and terrible he was! What would happen if a child used the restroom next and picked up the needle out of curiosity?”
Coming Soon:
Beauty and Love Less Than Lasting (more Memoirs of an Ice-Cream Lady)
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