mouthful of sadness

She sense that there's more to a mouthful of sadness than meets the tongue. A whisper of salt, even the smallest nudge of the palate, can betray a century of hidden grief. Perhaps, she understands that, for all its practice, humanity can never conceal the daily act of futility at the dinner table. As we feed continually, we also acknowledge the perennial nature of our hunger. Each time we bring food to our mouths, the gut---emptiness that we attempt to fill inevitably contaminates our cutlery, plates, cups, glasses, our whole table. It is this residual contamination, our individual portions of grief, that she eats, so we do not die from them------but what if we don't eat? Then we can claim self-sufficiency, a fullness from birth, perhaps. Then we won't betray our hunger.

But Rica was not philosophical at four years old, when she had to be cajoled, tricked, ordered, then scolded severely before she finished her meal, if she touched it at all. Rica understood her occasional hunger strikes quite simply. She new that these dinner quarrels with her father, and sometimes her aunties, ensured dire consequences. Each following day, she always made stick drawings of Big Lady with an ever increasing girth, as she was sure the Lady had a big meal the night before.

Mouth curved downward, she's sad like her meals. No, she wears a smile, she's happy because she's always full. Sharp eyes, they can see in the dark, light bulb eyes, and big teeth for chewing forever She can hardly walk, because her belly's so heavy, she's pregnant with leftovers. No, she doesn't walk, she flies like a giant cloud and she's not heavy at all, she only looks heavy. And she doesn't want to be sad, so she eats all our tears and sighs. But she can't starve, can she? Of course, she likes sadness, its food.

Fascination, fear and a kind ship drawn from trying to save each other. Big Lady saves Rica from sadness; Rica save s Big Lady from bursting by not being sad. An ambivalent relationship, confusing, but certainly a source of comfort. And always Big Lady as object of attention. Those days when Rica drew stick-drawings of her, she made sure the big one was always adorned with pretty baubles and make-up. She can even drew her with a Paris ribbon to tighten her belly. Then she added a chic hat to complete the picture.

Crimson velvet with a black satin bow. Quite a change from all the girlie kitsch----hat her mother had dredged from Paris's unfashionable side of town? The day it arrived in the mail, Rica was about to turn six. A perfect Parisienne winter hat for a tiny head in the tropics. It came with a bank-draft for her party.

she did not try it on, it looked strange, so different from the Barbie's and pink paper rabbit. This latest gift was unlike her mother, something was missing.

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