The Regurgitator

I grew up in an amusement park.

My father was the manager and we lived behind it. In the fifties, the amusement park was a huge open space with movie theatre, cabaret, opera stage and many shops. It only came alive at night when it was filled with people. During the day it was fairly empty.

I loved to roam around after school to watch fat wrestlers making false moves, magicians practising card tricks, Kung Fu apprentices fighting each other. I also enjoyed the Fujian troupes performing and made friends with the child opera singer.

There was an open-air stage for vagabond artists to show their amazing tricks.

One day an old man came with his teenage daughter. I remember clearly that he had a crisscross scar on his left cheek and his fingers were deformed.

He drank one glass of water, then he formed a narrow hole with his lips and blew a jet of water back into the glass. One, two, three, he repeated the act and blew water back into three glasses. We were captivated. Next, he picked up a large fish tank and drank up the whole tank of water, including the goldfish in it. We held our breath, waiting to see what would happen next. The old man made a deep roar in his throat and suddenly he regurgitated all the water back into the tank, with the goldfish still swimming. We all clapped our hands.

The father and daughter settled down in the park and performed every night. After each act, the daughter would collect pennies from the audience. She had rosy cheeks and her skin was white as snow. It is a sight we rarely see, in a tropical country.

As time went by, less and less people came to see his act.

The old man had a few more tricks up his sleeve. His next act was performed with fleas.

His fleas could jump from one arm onto another at his command. He also made sophisticated mini carts, tanks and silver cannons on wheels for the fleas. They could pull things one hundred times their own weight. After the act ended the old man showed the audience his arms and how the fleas sucked his blood. He said, “I feed the fleas and the fleas feed me.” Everybody cheered.

I heard from my father’s colleague that the old man and his wife used to be the most famous flying trapeze duo in Shanghai. In one accident he fell, wounding his face and hands, and lost his wife. From then on, he had to wander around, forcing himself to do other acts.

I became good friends with the daughter Shia Shia. She used to come over to our place to borrow books. My dad was also a scholar and he collected a house full of books. Shia Shia always sang English songs and the one she liked most was ‘One Day When We Were Young’. I remember one hot afternoon, while listening to her singing, my eyelids got heavy and I fell asleep in her arms, did not have a proper bathroom THEIR DORMITORY, so sometimes Shia Shia would come over and ask if she could use our shower. Once I accidentally saw her plump breasts through the cracks in the door. I blushed with embarrassment. I felt so ashamed of myself that I had to run three rounds in the amusement park.

People got tired of the flea act as well. The old man had to pull the last act out of his bag.

On the stage was a rectangular wooden box. The old man took out sixteen sharp swords and ordered his daughter, who was wearing a bikini, to go into the box. Then he pushed the swords into the box one by one. With each sword the audience yelled out loud, they were in awe. After all sixteen swords were inserted, the old man said the audience could pay a penny to see how the trick was done. Of course, I was the first one to rush up and see what had happened. There I saw Shia Shia in a twisted position, avoiding the swords by the inch. A penny, just for a penny, you could see my Shia Shia’s body!

“No! No!” I cried.

I saw in Shia Shia’s eyes that she was crying too. She knew I was deeply hurt but she was helpless. I was so humiliated that I ran away, tears streaming from my eyes. I avoided seeing the old man and his daughter for days and then I had a fever and fell sick. By the time I recovered they were gone. Apparently, the audience did not find the act interesting. I never saw Shia Shia again.

Years later when I was living in Japan, I was walking down the street and heard someone calling my nickname.

I turned and saw the old man. I was so thrilled that I was speechless. I pulled him into a fancy restaurant and ordered all the food I could think of.

“How is Shia Shia?” I eagerly asked.

“Oh, she left me and ran off with some circus people,” he answered.

I did not know how to comfort him.

Looking at the dishes he said, “I am so hungry.”

“Eat up,” I said.

“I can’t”

“What do you mean you can’t?”

“I am a rat in the laboratory.”

“What do you mean you are a rat in the laboratory?”

The old man explained as we left.

“A professor from a pharmaceutical company somehow saw my act of swallowing goldfish. He hired me to do experiments on how food is digested. Every morning I have to swallow two eggs, depending on the data they are collecting, I have to throw up and spit them out in one hour, two or three whatever. I just know that my stomach has to be empty all day. That’s why I am so hungry.”

“Fuck the Japanese!” I yelled. “The Japanese feed me and I have to feed the Japanese,” the old man mumbled as he disappeared into the crowd.