My

Portfolio
In
English
John Wilson Tejada
8-Flaviano
Sir.Dong Concepcion

Quizzes/Long Test
Activities
-The Hands Of The BlackI dont remember now how we got on to the subject, but one day, Teacher
said that the palms of the Blacks hands were much lighter than the rest of
their bodies. This is because only a few centuries ago, they walked around
with them like wild animals, so their palms werent exposed to the sun,
which made the rest of their bodies darker. I thought of this when Father
Christiano told us after catechism that we were absolutely hopeless, and
that even the pygmies were better than us, and he went back to this thing
about their hands being lighter, and said it was like that because they
always went about with their hands folded together, praying in secret. I
thought this was so funny, this thing of the Blacks hands being lighter, that
you should just see me now. I do not let go of anyone, whoever they are,
until they tell me why they think that the palms of the Blacks hands are
lighter. Doa Dores, for instance, told me that God made Blacks hands
lighter so they would not dirty the food they made for their masters, or
anything else they were ordered to do that had to be kept clean.

Seor Antunes, the Coca-Cola man, who only comes to the village now and
again when all the Cokes in the cantinas have been sold, said it was a lot of
baloney. Of course, I do not know if it was really such, but he assured me, it
was. After that I said, All right, it was baloney, and then he told me what
he knew about this thing of the Blacks hands. It was like this: Long ago,
many years ago, God the Father, Jesus Christ, the Virgin Mary, St. Peter,
many other saints, all the angels that were in Heaven, and some of the
people who had died and gone to Heaventhey all had a meeting and
decided to create the Blacks. Do you know how? They got hold of some clay

and pressed it into some second-hand molds and baked the clay of
creatures, which they took from the heavenly kilns. Because they were in a
hurry and there was no room next to the fire, they hung them in the
chimneys. Smoke, smoke, smokeand there you have them, black as coals.
And now, do you want to know why their hands stayed white? Well, didnt
they have to hold on while their clay baked?
When he told me this, Seor Antunes and the other men who were around
us were very pleased and they all burst out laughing. That very same day,
Seor Frias told me that everything i had heard from them there had been
just one big pack of lies. Really and truly, what he knew about the Blacks
hands was rightthat God finished men and told them to bathe in a lake in
Heaven. After bathing, the people were nice and white. The Blacks, well.
They were made very early in the morning and at this hour, the water in the
lake was very cold, so they only wet the palms of their hands and the soles
of their feet before dressing and coming to the world.
But i read in a book that happened to mention the story, that the Blacks
have hands lighter like this because they spent their lives bent over,
gathering the white cotton of Virginia and i dont know where else. Of
course, Doa Estefania did not agree when i told her this. According to her,
it is only because their hands became bleached with all that washing.
Well, i do not know what to think about all this but the truth is that however
calloused and cracked they may be, Black hands are always lighter than the
rest of him. And thats that!
My mother is the only one who must be right about this question of a
Blacks hands being lighter than the rest of his body. On the day that we
were talking about it, i was telling her what i already knew about the
question, and she could not stop laughing. When i was talking, she did not
tell me at once what she thought about all this and she only talked when
she was sure that i wouldnt get tired of bothering her about it. And even
then, she was crying and clutching herself around the stomach like
someone who had laughed so much that it was quite unbearable. What she
said was more or less this:
God made Blacks because they had to be. They had to be, my son. He
thought they really had to be. Afterwards, He regretted having made them
because other men laughed at them and took away their homes and put

them to serve as slaves and not much better. But because He couldnt make
them all white, for those who were used to seeing them black would
complain, He made it so that the palms of their hands would be exactly like
the palms of the hands of other men. And do you know why that was? Well,
listen: it was to show that what men do is only the work of men... that what
men do is done by hands that are the samehands of people. How, if they
had any sense, would know that before anything else they are men. He
must have been thinking of this when He made the hands of those men who
thank God they are not black!
After telling me all this, my mother kissed my hands. As i ran off to
the yard to play ball, i thought that i had never seen a person cry so much
as my mother did then.

The Donkey Cart

At twenty-five I was a teacher in a small town in the Northwest China. The
town was sparsely populated and, being so remote, lacked modern means
of communication. In the evenings the wolves howled in the nearby hills and
occasionally entered the town in quest of prey.
I spent only one year there and, being unable to endure the isolation,
packed my bags when the summer holidays arrived and prepared to return
home.
A traveler had to take a donkey cart to the nearest railhead, some twentyfive miles away. On arriving at the departure point in the center of the town,
I found that all the carts, being mostly engaged in carrying local products,
had left. I began to despair.
Sir, a sibilant whisper came from a boy whom I knew slightly (he was from
the tiny Moslem restaurant, all the carts have gone out into the country
districts.
I left his remark unnoticed. As time passed, I began to feel tired and hungry.
The boy approached me again, Sir, why not come inside for rest? There

may be a donkey cart somewhere else in the town. Ill try to find one for
you.
All right, I agreed, take my baggage inside.
Having taken a table facing the street, I ordered as mall pot of wine and a
dish of mutton which were promptly served. A stout, cheerful man, the
owner of the restaurant must have learned of my problem and came up to
me.
Relax, my friend, and Ill see what can be done, he said, rubbing his hands
together.
Its already four oclock, I complained, and if I cant find transport before
five, my journey will have to be postponed.
Dont worry said the innkeeper. Dry weather like this is good for travelling
at night.
I sat there quietly, looking at my watch occasionally, hoping to see a cart
through the open door. The entrance was suddenly barred by the figure of
the boy who came shouting that business was good at the market and that
all the carts had gone and were not expected to return until the morrow. He
moved away revealing an empty donkey cart. I leaped up, hurried to the
door, and was just about to hail the driver when I realized who he was. My
hands dropped and I returned regretfully to my seat. The innkeeper gives
me a sympathetic smile. The driver was Lin Ng, an old man with a most
unsavory reputation. Among the drivers, he couldnt be trusted. Even the
children called the villain in their games Lin Ng. I had used his cart once
when I arrived in the town and I remember him vividly as a melancholic with
thick eyebrows, wide cheekbones and a pinch of white moustache.
The story goes that when he was young he had been a member of a gang.
They had all been wiped out by the law but he escaped and returned to the
town. He had taken the job of being a transport driver. Soon afterward there
occurred an n event which seemed to confirm his reputation. He was
employed to drive a local merchant who carried a substantial sum of money.
The day after the journey, the merchant was found clubbed to death in a
ditch below a stretch of plateau some miles from the town. Everyone was
aware that Lin Ng was the driver who had been employed to drive the
leather dealer home and there seemed little doubt of his guilt. He

empathically denied this and asserted that at the halfway stage, the
merchant had transferred to another cart, driven by Ngau Lo Tsun.
The local Magistrate made a formal investigation of the case but could find
no definite evidence except for some bruises on Lin Ngs arms. He was, of
course, acquitted but the people of the town still considered him guilty. They
avoided him and seldom made use of his services except for short journeys
during the day and along well-frequented roads.
The clock struck five and I realized that there was little hope of catching my
train now. Unless?
Ask old Lin Ng if it is still possible to catch the 9:45 train if we leave now.
The innkeeper looked sadly at me but went outside nevertheless to inquire
for me.
Old Lin Ng, his shabby hat in hand, said with some confidence, Ill get you
to the train in time, sir, but we must start at once. I looked at the
innkeeper, hesitant to leave, but obstinacy urged me to have faith in him. I
had to make that trip.
Is the weather suitable for the night journey? I asked.
It is perfect, sir, was the reply. When I paused again he seemed to sense
the cause of my worry. You could always take another cart in the morning,
he went on.
No, I had decided, I have to catch the train tonight. I paid the bill and
went outside with my baggage which Lin Ng lifted into the cart. As I climbed
in he said, We are ready to go now, sir. You can take a nap if you want to.
Flatly I answered, I dont want to, and with a crack of his whip we lurched
forward.
Some three hours had passed and we were traveling across a barren plain
under the darkening sky; the only signs of life were the occasional barkings
of the dogs as we passed near some habitations. The countryside seemed to
be asleep with the night wind singing a lullaby. The feeble shadow of the
cart was cast by the single lamp at the front. The driver rocked and swayed
rhythmically now and again; giving a flick of the whip to the donkey. I leaned
against the side of the cart grasping a large stone which I had picked up
before climbing into the vehicle.

Lin Ng glanced at the sooty lamp and at the starry sky, then turned to me.
My hand gripped the stone harder. Are you dozing, sir?
No.
The cart began to slow down and the driver made the whip sound loudly in
the night air. The poor beast stretched its neck but to little avail. We were
having difficulties climbing the hill from the plain. Get on, damn you!
yelled Lin Ng, jumping down from the seat and moving to rear of the cart. I
felt nervous now, wondering if this was a calculated move to get behind me.
Ill have to push from the back if you will shout at the donkey.
Shall I get down to make the cart lighter?
No. Just sit there, please, he replied.
Id better get down for a while if only to stretch my legs.
I jumped down and walked behind the cart while the driver strained until we
reached the crest of the hill.
Thank you. You are very kind to help my donkey. He is almost as old as I
am now and he has not been doing short journeys around the town and has
forgotten this hill.
I resumed my seat and by then the night had grown even darker, the way
more rugged. The wheels creaked and groaned as though in protest at the
rough terrain. Suddenly he put his whip down in the cart and fumbled at his
waist.
Would he attack me now? I wondered. I put one foot on the seat and held
the stone, ready to defend myself. There was a rustle and he half turned in
his seat. He struck a match and the familiar smell of tobacco smoke drifted
by me.
You want to smoke, sir?
No, I dont.
I have not been so far out of town a long time, it seems very strange to me
now.
Its certainly strange! I replied.

You are a Southerner, sir. I wonder if things are strange in the South?
I replied that things were strange in any part of this world.
He laughed. Things are all strange under the sun. The smoke drifted over
his shoulder toward me. Have you heard strange rumors about me in the
town? he continued, dispassionately.
Probably. I tried to appear indifferent, slightly afraid even as I wondered all
the more why he had asked that particular question.
I have had no long journeys for years because the townsfolk are afraid of
me. They say I was a robber once.
Are there such rumors? I pretended to be ignorant of the story.
Thats why I say this world is strange. Rumor is more vicious than an angry
serpent. Once you are bitten by it you seldom recover. When I was a young
man and trying to earn a living, I tried many jobs. I was a soldier for a while,
worked in a vineyard later where I was so unhappy that I decided to return
home. Just before I arrived a large gang of robbers was arrested near the
town. People suspected that I had been one of the gang and had escaped.
But how could they suspect with no evidence? I interrupted.
Everyone has two lips, he went on.
We cant stop them from talking. Sir, you may have heard a much stronger
rumor about me.
Well vaguely, I answered.
Let me tell you the truth. It was a night such as this and on this same road
when I was taking a leather dealer to the station. He was as friendly as you,
sir. He kept talking about the business situation while smoking one cigarette
after another. Midway we met an empty cart going slowly in the same
direction. I knew the driver, Ngau Lo Tsun, and asked him if he would like to
take my passenger the rest of the way to the station as I was very tired and
wanted to be home early. He explained that he had lost his whip and that
his lamp had run out of oil. I loaned him my whip and filled his lamp. My
passenger gives me the half fee and I took leave of them, glad that I could
go home.

The next day it was reported that the merchant had been found dead in
the ditch below the road and, several people knowing that he had been my
passenger, I was arrested. But there was no proof, so I was eventually
released. I went to see Lo Tsun, who told me that his cart had been
ambushed by three robbers who demanded money from the merchant.
When he refused to pay they clubbed him to death and chased him away. Lo
Tsun went on to say that as long as we remained poor, people would not
suspect us of robbing the merchant, but then, in spite of my poverty, sir, no
one believes me.
I contemplated his trouble. It seemed rather unfair. I loosened my grip on
the stone and lit a cigarette.
Look, sir, he pointed out, there is the very spot where I handed over my
passenger. There by that date tree which has grown up so well.
I saw the shadow of a date tree. I believe you.
I cant really blame you for not doing so, he continued. Once a rumor has
begun it is difficult to stop it.
We remained silent for a long time. The singular sound of the revolving
wheels emphasized the loneliness of the autumn night. In Northern China
the evenings are usually quiet.
Are you sleeping, sir? What time is it? now?
I wasnt asleep. I replied, bending toward the lamp to look at my watch.
Its almost nine.
If only my donkey were more energetic, I would be on my way back now. I
cautiously dropped the stone over the side and Lin Ng stopped the cart.
Did you dropped something, sir?
No; perhaps it was a stone thrown up by the wheels.
He waved his whip and the cart advanced once again. We could see some
lights in the distance. A locomotive whistle could be heard and I realized
that my journey was almost over.
Sir, write if you please to your friends back in the town so that I have more
long distance journeys.
I will, I assured him.

We entered the city and I gave the old man a double fee. He made his
farewell and left to get a drink at the inn. His shadow soon disappeared. I
must write that letter. It may help the poor man.

The Aged Mother

Long, long ago there lived at the foot of the mountain a poor farmer and his
aged, widowed mother. They owned a bit of land which supplied them with
food, and their humble were peaceful andhappy.Shining was governed by a
despotic leader who though a warrior, had a great and cowardly shrinking
from anything suggestive of failing health and strength. This caused him to
send out a cruel proclamation. The entire province was given strict orders to
immediately put to death all aged people. Those were barbarous days, and
the custom of abandoning old people to die was not common. The poor
farmer loved his aged mother with tender reverence, and the order filled his
heart with sorrow. But no one ever thought a second time about obeying the
mandate of the governor, so with many deep hopeless sighs, the youth
prepared for what at that time was considered the kindest mode of death.
Just at sundown, when his days work was ended, he took a quantity of
unwhitened rice which is principal food for poor, cooked and dried it, and
tying it in a square cloth, swung and bundle around his neck along with a
gourd filled with cool, sweet water. Then he lifted his helpless old mother to
his back and stated on his painful journey up the mountain. The road was
long and steep; then arrowed road was crossed and recrossed by many
paths made by the hunters and woodcutters. In some place, they mingled in
a confused puzzled, but he gave no heed. One path or another, it mattered
not. On he went, climbing blindly upward ever upward towards the high
bare summit of what is known as Obatsuyama, the mountain of the
abandoning of aged. The eyes of the old mother were not so dim but that
they noted the reckless hastening from one path to another, and her loving
heart grew anxious. Her son did not know the mountains many paths and
his return might be one of danger, so she stretched forth her hand and
snapping the twigs from brushes as they passed, she quietly dropped a
handful every few steps of the way so that they climbed, the narrow path
behind them was dotted at frequently intervals with tiny piles of twigs. At
last the summit was reached. Weary and heart sick, the youth gently
released his burden and silently prepared a place of comfort as his last duty
to the loved one. Gathering fallen pine needle, he made a soft cushion and

tenderly lifting his old mother therein, he wrapped her padded coat more
closely about the stooping shoulders and with tearful eyes and an aching
heart said farewell. The trembling mothers voice was full of unselfish love
as she gave her last injunction. Let notthine eyes be blinded, my son. A
She said. The mountain road is full of dangers. LOOK carefully and follow
the path which holds the piles of twigs. They will guide you to the familiar
way fartherdown. The sons surprised eyes looked back over the path, then
at the poor old, shriveled hands all scratched and soiled by their work of
love. His heart smote him and bowing to the grounds, he cried aloud: oh,
Honorable mother, thy kindness thrusts my heart! I will not leave thee.
Together we will follow the path of twigs, and together we will die!Once
more he shouldered his burden (how light it seemed no) and hastened down
the path,through the shadows and the moonlight, to the little hut in the
valley. Beneath the kitchen floor was a walled closet for food, which was
covered and hidden from view. There the son his mother,supplying her with
everything needful and continually watching and fearing. Time passed, and
he was beginning to feel safe when again the governor sent forth heralds
bearing an unreasonable order, seemingly as a boast of his power. His
demand was that his subject should present him with a rope of ashes. The
entire province trembled with dread. The order must be obeyed yet who in
all shining could make a rope of ashes?One night, in great distress, the son
whispered the news to his hidden mother. Wait! she said. Iwill think. I will
think On the second day she told him what to do. Make rope twisted
straw, she said. Then stretch it upon a row of flat stones and burn it there
on the windless night. He called the people together and did as she said
and when the blaze and died, behold upon the stones with every twist and
fiber showing perfectly. Lay a rope of whithead ashes. The governor was
pleased at the wit of the youth and praised greatly, but he demanded to
know where he had obtained his wisdom. Alas! Alas! cried the farmer, the
truth must be told! andwith deep bows he related his story. The governor
listened and then meditated in silence. Finally he lifted his head. Shining
needs more than strength of youth, he said gravely. Ah, that I should have
forgotten the well-know saying, with the crown of snow, there cometh a
wisdom! That very hour the cruel law was abolished, and custom drifted
into as far a past that only legends remain