For a final writing assignment in eight grade, I was given the prompt of writing a fictional narrative essay through the perspective of one of the first passengers on the Transcontinental Railroad in America. Of course, being the activist and advocate I have always been, I decided to take a unique turn with my writing, and write it from the perspective of a daughter of one of the Chinese railroad workers who were brought over from China by the Americans. The objective I had with this narrative essay was to highlight the unjust treatment of Chinese railroad workers during this time period.
My body shook and I instinctively grabbed the bench under me to prevent myself from falling. Chatter arose and I glanced around the car to see what it was about. I saw smoke and snow spread fast across the windows as I looked to see the source of the noise. In front of me were two men with droopy eyes and bent backs shouting at the passengers. I couldn’t hear them clearly with my head throbbing from all the noise. My father, a tan-skinned man with dark features, stood up and hovered above the passengers. Tugging my father’s sleeve, I asked, “Baba, what’s happening?”
“Stay here. Someone is coming, I will see what this is about.”
I nodded. A chill ran up my body as the doors creaked open. I watched as my father, the only fluent English-speaker in the car, pushed through the passengers to run outside and converse with someone. He came back for a moment and called for a few people to follow him. The voices in the car settled down. I waited, and waited, clueless about the entire situation. The doors had closed but there was no movement signaling that we’d start the train again.
I turned in my seat and rested one hand atop the frozen metal on the framed window. Trees were smothered by heaps of snow, the same snow that blanketed the entire ground. A grey foggy sky took over above. I looked down and saw the russet-colored wood tracks laid in a neat order, stretching so far on the fields and out of my view. My ears were numb yet it hurt as I put my ear on the window to hear what the faint sounds outside were. My eyes started to ache and it had been a while since my father went out.
“Don’t pick ya’ lips. It’s a bad habit.”
A gangly boy with unkempt hair and matching black eyes said as he slightly pushed me to the side to see my view. A sting pierced my chapped lips as my fingers touched what I knew was blood.
“I know, but I can’t help it. I can’t ask anyone where my baba is and it’s been a long time since he got out of the train,” I mumbled, pointing at the ebony train doors.
“Mm, don’t be nervous.” He pointed his chin to the front of the train. “Those men asked me to shovel the snow outside. Maybe they asked ya’ baba too.”
“Oh. That’s why they had all those men go out. What about you? Are you not helping?”
“Nah, they stopped me and said I’d be too weak. Ha. So I’m weak but a boy’s doin’ the work they don’t wanna do. Look at my nails. Ya’ can see I worked on the tracks.”
I glanced up at the young man and saw the dirt in his nails as he held his hands up against his dry, cracked face. “I see. My baba worked on the railroad too..” I retreated my hands into my shirt. I was too numb to care about the cold seeping into my shoes or the warmth of my chest that burnt my hands when I hugged myself between the thin layers of clothes I had on. I felt a nudge at my arm.
“I got baozi, ya’ want one?”
“…”
“My hands might be dirty but I haven’t touched these yet, I’ll let ya grab one first.”
He took out a wooden container and I hesitantly reached my hand out of my coat for one of the meat buns. It was a bit cold, unlike the steamed ones I was used to and loved.
The doors creaked open and snow flew in the car, making me shiver and rub my eyes. Under the soaked and heavy brown jacket was my father, lightly covered in snow. “Baba!” I forced my unsteady legs to stand up. The doors slowly closed, making me sit down after my father did. He didn’t respond. Instead, he spread out his body on the little bench space we shared. “Baba…?”
“Stop messin’ with him, he’s tired.”
“Ah.. right.”
I sighed and thanked the boy for the treat in my hands. I held onto the window frame as the train started, laughing as the boy near me fell off the bench.