The August Moon Festival on August 18th, 2002 - Final Revision

Part I: "Prelude Cut Short"

A great heap of balloons, showcasing furrows of colours into the sky, was released alongside much banzai and ballyhoo from the spectators. Perhaps they had been restraining their curiosity long enough; they gathered round, attracted by melodious rapture- prying their way through the crowd, as children wedged in front of ice cream trucks. Absent were the curmudgeons and usual protestors- this was all about the gala and celebration, and a glimpse of what was to come during the Nouveau Année. You will know that Chinatown is in no way a favela; more exactly, it is a bustling neighborhood -Boston's Heart of Asia- with its eccentricities, diverse inhabitants (Vietnamese, Korean, Taiwanese, Cambodian, and Thai to name a few), and broad cultural horizons. Id est, August Moon 2002 was anything but ordinary.

Part II: "Rabbit in the Moon"

Women's Festival or August Moon is the fifteenth day of the eighth lunar month. The festival time and again symbolizes beauty and elegance. While some look to the sun for its power, people in the far east, admire the moon. Children are often reminded of the goddess who flies to the moon, casting her figure for all to see. Partakers feast on moon-cake with relatives and look to the starry night for their goddess. But there's much more. Knowing Chinatown, it was no question that the planned celebration would be awe-inspiring and superfluous in every way. Chinese people tend to outdo themselves, well, all the time. I mean, who else would buy $40 lunar-cake?

Part III: "A Day Without Rain"

7:30 A.M. The girls gathered at a street corner near on Kneeland. The setting was far from picturesque. It is not likely for anyone to ignore Chinatown's indiscreet litter. Behind the police pickets, cigarette butts and leaflets scattered about in all corners. Miasma seeping from sewer grates just boiled over your body. You didn't drop a penny and hope to pick it up. Dyed hair ackdongs weren't wholly to blame; in fact, as one girl said- partial liability rests on old people. Especially, the old people. In short of an illuminating view, I made out the group au milieu and moseyed over there. A feeling of self-consciousness washed over immediately when, seemingly, all the volunteers were female. My face was red with chagrin. It was very awkward, and even more so when the T-shirt fit like a tank top. Familiar faces arrived and subsequently, we were given tasks from the coordinators, "officers" if you will. Tables and chairs needed to be moved hereon. More or less, it was a bit tricky with the streets now teeming with early-comers and confusing directions. Cue the bazaar sounds.

Before lunch, everyone helped with the balloons: Wendy inflated the chromatic things- Anne, Henry, Elliot, Lisa, and others tied them up with ribbons. The C.C.B.A. representative and I coupled balloons onto the podium. It was relaxing to sit on the stage, having your hair combed by the wind- sideways and askew -watching rubber knock against rubber. The work was underlying only to the laughter, our enjoyment and the occasional mishaps. You know, one or two balloons had gone AWOL- several exploded, and a string of them had gone MIA soon after.

Part IV: "Quiet Afternoon"

"Man," Aristotle once said, "is by nature a political animal." Indeed political intent beset August Moon with Romney-Healy campaigners, bourgeoisie running for reelection, and other Caucasians looking for gratis advertising. On the other hand, several key issues were made adamant by Chinatown leaders (exampli gratia: Liberty Place) and will no doubt benefit the district. We were honored by a visit from New York's Consul General who gave his blessing and best wishes. While volunteers were behind the scenes much earlier setting up the arena- the festival began when organizers and district chiefs made their speeches and bid people most gracious day. Lion dances inaugurated August Moon (despite some flawed footwork), and children from local Chinese schools livened the scene with their own contributions. The performing marching band let out familiar songs like "Grand Old Flag," which instilled a sense of patriotism and unity for onlookers. Kids and their parents graciously waved our stars and stripes in the air- their hands symbolically to chest. During the course of events, there were some great speeches. Chinese communiqué is loud, public- as it should be. One could unmistakably recognize both dialectical counterparts and an English translation. Most of the spectators; then again, were unresponsive and had their hands in their pockets. Straight-talking individuals would call it "tough crowd."

Part V: Lio Aka Vaiio Rapture

Now then, Chinatown never looked cleaner after the celebration ended and after we sterilized the whole spot. Cleanup had been quite exasperating; though I believe time passed by willingly. It was a gratifying experience: to be helping your community even if most of us were from Dorchester, South Boston, Quincy, and similarly far away places. At some points, it seemed hopeless to sweep the streets since trash collected into mountainous piles- and the stubborn wind just beckoned more trash into the streets. My person was relieved when May, Kaite, Henry, and the girls came to my assistance. Throwing garbage into the truck was the most nauseating: ok that's redundant since it was trash and trash, especially Chinese people's trash, smell really bad. Plus, I got turtle juice on my shirt after throwing some boxes in. Pushing the helium canister seven blocks was perhaps the most overwhelming, tense shifting experience ever. James and I had to coordinate, visualize, and send that thing to Dynasty. It was serious merriment and a great workout. Not to mention there was more of the shoving ice down girl's shirts, as Elliot demonstrated yet again- during our break.

Part VI: Fin

Dinner was categorically the best part. Most didn't mind the hour wait for the food. The excitement, labour, and the experience had left all of us in a satisfied stupor. I sat between Kaite and Henry at the end of our table, which was two rounds covered with tablecloth. Helen was directly across from me, and there was Anne on one side, Nancy and Elliot on the other and some other girls. We did have seven or eight courses and plenty of ice water. James Zheng got Elliot, Henry and me together for a picture- and wanted us to "get intimate." That was funny, but I imagine Henry was taking it a bit too far there when he shouted, "James you love him more than me!" In any case, the food at Empire Garden was pleasant and enjoyable. It only took us an hour to decide who should break up the fish. Henry decided he had the audacity to do so. And so, we chatted a bunch, ate food, and did similarly normal things at dinner: for example, running your finger back and forth across a glass to hear the "reverberations,” trying to connect two glasses together- only to break it and to hide it under the table, et cetera. Towards 9:30 or so, some volunteers began to leave and Kaite nudged me, told me how two seats were open at the opposing table. He caught on pretty fast. I, on the other hand, decided to stay to see Anne bite Henry and Henry throwing paper balls down Nancy's shirt. No point in moving tables when the action was this dramatic. Finally and regretfully, our glass squeaking contests came to a halt- no more loitering- we had to go. As people said their goodbyes, it occurred to me whilst walking down the dark streets with Kaite, that never before have I been witness to such teamwork and compassion or met so many new people. Everything that happened on August 18th only built my anticipation for the next August Moon. I would like to applaud the C.C.B.A., the ASIA officers, the volunteers, and everyone who decided to come. See you next year! Bai!

-James Zhang, Class II, webmaster wolfyserver.org james@wolfyserver.org

- For unabridged, untailored narration: access the restricted access section of wolfyserver.org -

Length: Rev1-4,200 Rev2- 2,300 Rev3- 1,340 Estimated time for all three revisions: 16 Hours

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