The firecracker
Bob Choi
It was early
morning on the first day of Chinese New Year. Back then firecrackers were legal and
almost every boy would indulge in lighting the firecrackers which came in
different sizes tightly rolled in red paper. They would throw them into the air, onto
the ground or wherever convenient at the time and stomped and shrieked as the
firecrackers exploded with the loud “Bang!” Girls would usually assume the role of
interested but passive onlookers on account that lighting and throwing
firecrackers required good eye-hand coordination and steady nerves and girls
generally fell short in these criteria.
More importantly, lighting firecrackers was considered un-girlish, and on
New Year Day, with their pretty new dresses on, girls would prefer to look prim
and feminine. So our story was
about this little boy. He was about
five years old and he had never lit a firecracker before. For the past few days, he was told
repeatedly by his parents (his mother mainly) that he should stay away from
firecrackers. He was not supposed
to even touch one.
Firecrackers are
dangerous inventions. They are
essentially tiny, little sticks of dynamite that can do irreparable harm to
young fingers, exposed toes, eyes and hairs, not to mention ear-drums. They are also potential fire
hazards. These considerations were
of course irrelevant to the little boy.
All he wanted was to experience the excitement of lighting his first
firecracker -- the rite of passage from “little boy” to “big boy”. He had a plan.
That morning he
got up before everyone else. He put
on the new clothes and new shoes and went straight to the drawer where his
elder brothers kept the firecrackers.
They were supposed to light them on the street later in the
morning. The little boy would be
allowed to watch along with the girls.
But he had a different plan.
He took a handful of the smallest firecrackers and put them in his
pocket. He decided that he should
start with the small ones since this would be his debut performance. He also took an incense stick and a box
of matches before he headed for the door.
Once on the street
he turned to the nearest back alley.
He decided that he should light his first firecracker in a back alley so
no one (especially his mother) would be able to catch him in the act. In those days, there were back alleys in
every block. They were usually
dirty and littered with garbage of suspicious origin -- the kind of unsavory
stuff that somehow attracted little boys.
Stray dogs liked back alleys too.
They would go there and answered nature calls. The little boy navigated carefully
around these fecal “landmines” until he found a clear spot. Then he struck a match and lit the
incense stick. Now holding a small
firecracker in one hand and the incense stick in the other, the little boy was
getting ready to light his first firecracker. He knew he would only have a couple of
seconds to throw it as soon as the fuse was lit or it would explode between his
fingers. He could hardly contain
his excitement as the glowing tip of the incense stick touched the fuse and it
started to ignite…his eyes were focusing on the tiny fuse and his heart was
racing madly under the effect of adrenaline. The little boy later (much later) would
relive this same rush of anticipation when he went out on his first date, but
that is another story…
Just as when he
was about to throw the firecracker, he heard a loud, blood-cuddling “Woof!
Woof!” He looked up and saw, much
to his horror, a black, mean-looking dog the size of a bull marching towards
him from the far side of the alley.
The dog was medium size but to our little boy it was huge and as
menacing as the fiery hound from hell!
His natural
reaction took over and he threw everything he had (the firecracker and the license
stick) towards the charging hound from hell. The firecracker landed on a pile of what
appeared to be still-fresh canine excrement only a few feet away. He heard a loud “Bang!” as it
exploded. The poor dog was scared,
running in the opposite direction with its tail between his legs. The little boy was running too, all the
way home, crying and smelling as if a pile of fresh dog feces had just exploded
next to him (which was of course exactly what had happened!).
So things did not
go as planned for the little boy (me). My first firecracker experience turned out to be a nightmare -- a
scary, dirty, foul-smelling misadventure.
I have developed a strange complex towards firecrackers since that day. Every time when I heard firecrackers, a
strange foul smell would overcome me.
To me, Chinese New Year became a living hell as firecrackers would go
off all day long. You could imagine how happy and grateful I was when
the government finally banned firecrackers.