Eternity RPC Board
11-27-2017, 02:31 PM
Wuiso, Singan | Dein, 1587
The new repressive laws passed by Hôinôm's national parliament in the name of national security, along the arbitrary constraints to freedom of expression, association and peaceful assembly imposed by Prime Minister Quang Công Quang's government were soon applied to the Hoinomese worker movement as well, now largely merger under a national organization, the National Federation of Workers and Farmers. Luông Thành Binh was successfu to impose an apolitical stance as national policy, but this didn't help neither him nor the movement: as many, he was forced to flee to exile in order to avoid an upcoming arrest. Others weren't so lucky, and they were languishing in Hoinomese jails, facing the quick military courts, or simply ended in missing persons lists.
As every Wednesday, Luông Thành Binh was having a lunch in the "Congông Dò", a restaurant which had become a meeting point for the Hoinomese community in the northern Singanese town. The restaurant had been founded by a Hoinomese émigré, a former member of the Hoinomese Nationalist Party. After his dead some years ago, the restaurant was managed by his younger son, Thuân, who reformed the restaurant, offering a both traditional and original combination of Hoinomese and Singanese cuisine. A heterogenous list of members of the Hoinomese community in the town could be found every day in "Congông Dò": artists, writers, anti-monarchists, nationalists, syndicalists, communists, anarchists and other radicals. Hoinomese migrant workers prefered cheaper places, but they came to have dinner from time to time, as curious tourists and, sometimes, a confused passerby did as well.
Hùng entered into the restaurant. His outfit, wearing a wrinkled but apparently new suit and holding a big and black suitcase, seemed a bit out of place. He sat down in one solitary table, with only two chairs. To his own surprise, he was politely attended by a young waiter. The waiter did not speak any dialect he was able to recognize, so Hùng assumed that the man was not probably born in Hôinôm. Hùng asked a dish of Bun cha and a random Singanese beer.
Luông Thành Binh did not notice the newcomer. He kept patiently eating his plentiful lunch, which consisted in several plates of Bánh khoái and Bánh khot, a Chào soup, which he had already finished, and a dish of Singanese noodles prepared in the Xâo style, all combined with a Mayari wine, which was cheap but with an intense flavour.
Hùng tried the Bun cha. It was tasty, but it felt quite different as it was prepared in his own province. It was spicy but with a bit watered flavour. His mobile phone rang. He introduced his fingers into the jacket, only to realize he hadn't catch the wrong mobile phone. A bitter but funny smile appeared in his face. He then remembered that his own mobile phone was in one of the pockets of his trousers.
Luông Thành Binh, as he finished the noodles, realized about Hùng, who was patiently drinking his beer. Binh felt that Hùng must not be older than 35, and he wonder what kind of business he could have in a grey city like Wuiso. But soon his own thoughts came back to his own shirt. He realized how much he had gained weight in only a few weeks. This was soon forgotten, however, as we ate another bành khot after moistening his lips with that cheap Mayari wine.
Hùng had finished the beer, and without completely eating his plate, he asked the waiter for the final bill.
As Luông Thành Binh finished the remainder of his salty cake, could easily recognize Muong Vân Nhung entering the restaurant. A veteran and eccentric member of the Hoinomese community in Wuiso, he was well-known and many anecdotes spread about him. A former nationalist activist from Quang Cai, who became a communist supporter already in exile, some decades ago, Nhung was mostly known for his lousy behavior. Binh felt that he was just nuts, another senile fool always looking for problems and scandal.
Hùng left a generous tip and abandoned the restaurant. He seemed to be in a hurry, as the forgot his suitcase, placed behind the door.
Luông Thành Binh, while still annoyed but the invited presence of the last customer, noticed the uneasy conversation of one of the waiters with a Tieguonese couple -likely tourists, who did not speak a word of neither Singanese or Hoinomese-, who had informed about that lost suitcase in the floor.
Hùng had already crossed the street, and he got his phone from one of the pockets of his jacket. He dialled an unusual number, but he couldn't avoid to lower his head three seconds before the chaotic traffic was interrupted by a sudden noise.
Unlike many shocked pedestrians, Hùng did not look bad toward the "Congông Dò", now in flames. He waited for his taxi to come, which -he was told- had a Jandrean flag sticker in its door. That taxi finally came, and Hùng quickly entered into the car, leaving fast the place.
Today business had been finished, and it was time to leave this dirty town.
The new repressive laws passed by Hôinôm's national parliament in the name of national security, along the arbitrary constraints to freedom of expression, association and peaceful assembly imposed by Prime Minister Quang Công Quang's government were soon applied to the Hoinomese worker movement as well, now largely merger under a national organization, the National Federation of Workers and Farmers. Luông Thành Binh was successfu to impose an apolitical stance as national policy, but this didn't help neither him nor the movement: as many, he was forced to flee to exile in order to avoid an upcoming arrest. Others weren't so lucky, and they were languishing in Hoinomese jails, facing the quick military courts, or simply ended in missing persons lists.
As every Wednesday, Luông Thành Binh was having a lunch in the "Congông Dò", a restaurant which had become a meeting point for the Hoinomese community in the northern Singanese town. The restaurant had been founded by a Hoinomese émigré, a former member of the Hoinomese Nationalist Party. After his dead some years ago, the restaurant was managed by his younger son, Thuân, who reformed the restaurant, offering a both traditional and original combination of Hoinomese and Singanese cuisine. A heterogenous list of members of the Hoinomese community in the town could be found every day in "Congông Dò": artists, writers, anti-monarchists, nationalists, syndicalists, communists, anarchists and other radicals. Hoinomese migrant workers prefered cheaper places, but they came to have dinner from time to time, as curious tourists and, sometimes, a confused passerby did as well.
Hùng entered into the restaurant. His outfit, wearing a wrinkled but apparently new suit and holding a big and black suitcase, seemed a bit out of place. He sat down in one solitary table, with only two chairs. To his own surprise, he was politely attended by a young waiter. The waiter did not speak any dialect he was able to recognize, so Hùng assumed that the man was not probably born in Hôinôm. Hùng asked a dish of Bun cha and a random Singanese beer.
Luông Thành Binh did not notice the newcomer. He kept patiently eating his plentiful lunch, which consisted in several plates of Bánh khoái and Bánh khot, a Chào soup, which he had already finished, and a dish of Singanese noodles prepared in the Xâo style, all combined with a Mayari wine, which was cheap but with an intense flavour.
Hùng tried the Bun cha. It was tasty, but it felt quite different as it was prepared in his own province. It was spicy but with a bit watered flavour. His mobile phone rang. He introduced his fingers into the jacket, only to realize he hadn't catch the wrong mobile phone. A bitter but funny smile appeared in his face. He then remembered that his own mobile phone was in one of the pockets of his trousers.
Luông Thành Binh, as he finished the noodles, realized about Hùng, who was patiently drinking his beer. Binh felt that Hùng must not be older than 35, and he wonder what kind of business he could have in a grey city like Wuiso. But soon his own thoughts came back to his own shirt. He realized how much he had gained weight in only a few weeks. This was soon forgotten, however, as we ate another bành khot after moistening his lips with that cheap Mayari wine.
Hùng had finished the beer, and without completely eating his plate, he asked the waiter for the final bill.
As Luông Thành Binh finished the remainder of his salty cake, could easily recognize Muong Vân Nhung entering the restaurant. A veteran and eccentric member of the Hoinomese community in Wuiso, he was well-known and many anecdotes spread about him. A former nationalist activist from Quang Cai, who became a communist supporter already in exile, some decades ago, Nhung was mostly known for his lousy behavior. Binh felt that he was just nuts, another senile fool always looking for problems and scandal.
Hùng left a generous tip and abandoned the restaurant. He seemed to be in a hurry, as the forgot his suitcase, placed behind the door.
Luông Thành Binh, while still annoyed but the invited presence of the last customer, noticed the uneasy conversation of one of the waiters with a Tieguonese couple -likely tourists, who did not speak a word of neither Singanese or Hoinomese-, who had informed about that lost suitcase in the floor.
Hùng had already crossed the street, and he got his phone from one of the pockets of his jacket. He dialled an unusual number, but he couldn't avoid to lower his head three seconds before the chaotic traffic was interrupted by a sudden noise.
Unlike many shocked pedestrians, Hùng did not look bad toward the "Congông Dò", now in flames. He waited for his taxi to come, which -he was told- had a Jandrean flag sticker in its door. That taxi finally came, and Hùng quickly entered into the car, leaving fast the place.
Today business had been finished, and it was time to leave this dirty town.