Anda di halaman 1dari 1

Gweilo all look the same, just vary in degrees of height and fatness. And hair.

Some have hair which is dark like the yellow man, but beneath, on their faces, t
heir pudgy, pock-marked skin and flabby eyes, sometimes a shallow watery blue, r
esemble a cruel charade of our natural beauty. Some have yellow hair, which high
lights their pink, pointed noses. Some, and these I cannot look upon, have hair
which looks like threads of goldfish, and brown spots across their translucent f
aces. They grow hair all over their bodies, and look like fat monkeys. The ugly
sproutings also extend to their women, gweipoh, some of whom have hair on their
legs like a man and under their armpits, making me nauseous.
Gweipoh are shrieking harpies; they push their way into everything, intrude on t
he real business of men. It is from their subservience to their women that we se
e the weakness of the barbarian races. Any country which allows a gweipoh to rul
e over them indicates that its men have lost their grip on the situation. Gweipo
h are usually ugly and also fat. I make exception for the few who make their way
into the films or dance naked in the Crazy Paris Show in Macau, who are attract
ive in a perverse kind of way, their liberation hinting at an unnatural predilec
tion for sex.
The white races turn green in the face of chicken s feet or a healthy Chiu Chow du
ck intestine hot-pot. They deem our tastes bizarre and unhealthy. Few will even
dare to try dog stew, even in the winter. They have forgotten their time in the
huts, squatting by a single field, when to own a chicken is to have three meals.
They imbue their animals with sentimental personalities, and, especially the gw
eipoh, often refuse to eat anything that moves on the earth on whose back the su
n shines. Yet the majority sate themselves with obscene quantities of meat, whic
h is why they are all fat. Their predilection for beer makes them smell, and in
the warmth of the South China coast they sweat disgustingly, which makes them sm
ell worse.
Their fledgling culture is blunt and brutal, unsophisticated cant. They constant
ly and loudly spout what they perceive as truth, but ignore the subtleties which
colour every argument. Their social gatherings are filled with noise, whereas t
hose with intelligence know that more may be perceived from silence than from ce
aseless chatter. They call themselves individuals, then constantly behave like e
ach other. I grew tired of trying to understand them long ago. I know them, of c
ourse, and can predict what they do, but I couldn t tell you why. They are an unpl
easant tribe, universally despised, humoured when politic, occasionally used, no
rmally ignored.