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My Kind of Town Don Chapman |
The first time ever ...
>> Blaisdell Arena
As Tibetan gongs, bells and cymbals rang, as monks in orange mendicant robes chanted softly, as the 14th Dalai Lama and young part-Hawaiian lama approached the stage in gold and saffron robes, the little i-pod inside Bodhicita Guzman's head had cued rather different music, Roberta Flack's "The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face."
Even from her vantage point in the first row of the upper level, the 18-year-old second Lama Jey Tsong Khapa was affecting Bodhicita as no man ever had, more even than the great Dalai Lama. The perfect beauty and near translucence of his golden brown skin seemed to reveal the boy's obvious holiness and innocence, a bright light shining from within, and she felt somehow protective.
Disguised as Sister Mary Miraculoso in gray and white nun's habit, dorky glasses and more-salt-than-pepper wig -- last year's Halloween costume -- Bodhicita smiled benignly even as deeper emotions stirred within and Roberta got to the part about "the first time ever I touched your face." She couldn't help it -- she was emotional, she was passionate, and it wasn't her fault she took after her Puerto Rican father more than her Japanese mother.
It was a strange sensation -- she'd never felt protective of a man before. And ironic -- already she'd been helping protect him from Te-Wu. Now it was up to Kamasami Khan and the others of the Free Tibet Warrior Society to use the information she'd given them and keep him safe.
Bodhicita listened breathlessly, enthralled, as the young lama chanted "The Awakening Mantra of Manjushri" with a beatific presence she'd never known possible in a man.
Too soon it was ending, the two holy men and their retinue filing off stage, and she watched in fascination and horror as Fon Du, her lover of six months, and his Te-Wu colleagues throughout the arena began moving into action, some like Fon Du speaking urgently into hands-free walkie-talkies.
Bodhicita wanted to scream out -- "Chinese secret police! Stop them!" -- but that was the worst thing she could do. And so she bit her lip and prayed.
But where was Khan?
Outside, she joined hundreds of others lining the drive from the back of the arena out to Kapiolani Boulevard, hoping to get a glimpse of the young lama again. She didn't, but when the two lamas' limos left with HPD motorcycle escorts, she felt better.
The first time ever I saw your face ... it was a night Bodhicita would never forget. But what to do with the rest of it? She overheard a couple of people in the crowd say they were heading to Pipeline Cafe to catch Natural Vibrations. Hmmm, sounded good.
Buddhist teaching says there's no such thing as coincidence, but looking back she'd always wonder, what was it then?
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Don Chapman is editor of MidWeek. His serialized novel runs daily in the Star-Bulletin. He can be e-mailed at dchapman@midweek.com