Forgotten Times 7/17
By Debbie Eng (wan-ping@juno.com)

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Helpful Translations to know:

" Peter, nay umm hie fot gun moong "---Peter you are not dreaming.
" Nay wa, Knee dee cheam bo hie jun? "---You're telling me, that this is
					all real?
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	Peter couldn't understand why he hadn't woke up yet.  Usually he
woke up not long after Mr. Anderson had finished with him.  His fantasies
did not last for days.  He was confused.  Had Mr. Anderson killed him
this time?  Was that why he couldn't wake up?  He had no body to go back
to?  And all of those fantasy people.  They hadn't stopped coming to
visit.  Even when he had turned away, they kept on coming and talking to
him.  There had even been some people that he didn't know.  One of them
had been named Mary Margaret.  He didn't know where her image had come
from.  He didn't remember seeing her anywhere, not the orphanage and not
as a teacher from the school.  He didn't know how to talk to her or any
of the troop of nurses that had been coming in and out all week.  All of
them had mentioned little things that let Peter know he didn't usually
act this way.  The pressure was on.  Each and every one of them wanted
their version of Peter Caine back.  Not him.  Wasn't there anyone who
wanted him for him?  

	Peter turned his head and almost jumped out of bed.  A very old
Chinese man was there.    He had on thin wire glasses and was mixing an
herbal concoction.  He reminded him of one Ping Hai from the temple, but
that couldn't be because Ping Hai had gotten sick and died, hadn't he?.

	"  Peter, nay umm hie fot gun moong, "

	Peter was startled.  He hadn't heard Chinese since he had left
the temple.  It took him a while to translate the sentence.  Mr. Anderson
had tried to beat the Chinese out of him once when he heard him speaking
it to a classmate on the phone.  He had demanded that Peter act like a
normal kid and learn a normal language, like French or Spanish for a
foreign language.  It didn't matter to him that Peter's foreign language
was not Chinese, but instead English.  After that beating, Peter had
tried to hide everything that made him Chinese inside of him.  He no
longer made the discrete moves that let him avoid the full power of
Anderson's hits and he had hidden away the Chinese music tapes that Mrs.
Anderson had gotten him.  Her theory had been, if you don't use it, you
lose it, and she hadn't wanted Peter to forget his Chinese heritage. From 
the dredges of his memory, he translated the Ancient's sentence and 
formulated a response.

	" Nay wa, Knee dee cheam bo hie jun? "

	The Ancient nodded, " These herbs, young Peter will help you as
you heal."  He added some water to the mixture and lifted it to Peter's
mouth.   

	" Who are you? " Peter swallowed,  at the temple, he had been
taught to revere the old ones, " Yuck, that tasted nasty! "  Peter turned
his head away.

	The Ancient laughed, " Some things do not change.  I am the
Ancient, you usually call me Lo Si."

	" Lo Si, this can't be real.  Kelly said that my father was
alive.  I heard her.  He isn't.  Therefore this must all be a dream."

	" As I said before, this is not a dream, " the Ancient said as he
packed away his things and left.