As it turned out, the girl was quick to cotton on. She reached for my mother's decrepit hand and shook it. "Hi grandma, grandpa. How are you?"

Of course, at first my parents didn't understand. But after taking a close look at the young bule girl's face, my mother said. "I think she is your daughter, 'Yan. Look at her lips, they're small and thin. She looks like you." My mother just grinned when the bule girl hugged her brazenly.

Anna Winslet, my daughter, was initiated in accordance with Balinese tradition. As if she were a newborn baby, she underwent all the necessary rituals: kepus puser, bulan pitung dina, telu bulan and otonan. _ach was an extremely tiring affair in itself, but Anna looked happy and seemed to enjoy it. She asked me so many questions, and answering them all exhausted me.

Several days after the completion of the final ritual Anna could no longer hide her excitement, and she looked very serious when she asked me "Now I'm officially Balinese, right?"

I just nodded, offering only a shrunken smile.
"So, I have to be able to dance, carve stone statues, paint and make banten?"

My mother cut in, asking me to explain what Anna had just said. When I told her, the old woman waved her hand in a negating gesture. "No, no my granddaughter. You musn't carve stone or paint. That's men's work. It's enough that you learn to dance and mejejahitan," my mother explained.
Anna asked me to translate what her grandmother had said. "Balinese women don't usually paint or draw, An. Your grandmother says you only need to dance and make offerings." Anna nodded and smiled. "Of course, grandmother. Actually, I happen to be taking some ballet lessons. Who knows, maybe I can do something experimental by combining Balinese dance with ballet."

I decided to take Anna back to Denpasar. But before we left, my parents sat me down in the bale delod to offer the routine parental advice. "You're forty five already, Yan. Maybe even older," my father reminded me."We're tired of telling you to get married. We never understood you, or why you prefer being a bachelor to getting married and having children. Finally we've given up, and decided to let you make up your own mind about how you want to live. But here in the village, we never stop praying that you will change your mind." My father paused to twist some betel before continuing.

"But now you have a daughter, which has come as a great shock to us. To us, the ways of i cening Anna are indeed strange. But that doesn't mean we are not happy to have her. Now, whether you want to get married or not is not important to us. The fact is we have a granddaughter who is a toris , and you must try to dissuade her from returning to America. Let her stay in Bali, because her blood is Balinese, even if her face is that of a toris."

I just nodded. Anna, who was sitting next to me, nodded too, even though I knew she didn't understand a word he had said, as she whispered to me, "You'll have to tell me later what grandfather just said."
"In essence," I replied straight away, "do you want to be Balinese or American?"
"I want to be the first one," she answered firmly.
"That's what your grandparents want."

***

On returning to my room in Denpasar, Anna and I had a disagreement. "It's too expensive to stay in a hotel, darling."
"But I have a lot of money," countered Anna.
"I know you do. But as my daughter, you have to live on my money, Anna."
"But the reason I came to Bali was to make my father happy. To have him stay in a hotel, ask for whatever he needs."
"No, no. I might be poor, but I'm quite happy, darling."
Our little tiff was interrupted when there was a knock at the door. Because I was standing closest to it, I opened it straight away. A Japanese girl of medium height and looking very unsure of herself was standing in front of me. For a moment, we just looked at each other.
"Are you Mr. Wayan?" she asked in a strong Japanese accent. My throat dried up all of a sudden. I looked up and closed my eyes in despair. Was God playing the joker with me?

Denpasar, July 1998
translated from 'Apakah Anda Mr. Wayan' by Emma Baulch.

Glossary

bule : lit. albino, but in everyday usage means white person
kepus puser : the ritual cutting of the umbilical cord
bulan pitung dina : the ritual undertaken one month and seven days after birth
telu bulan : the ritual undertaken three months after birth
otonan : the ritual undertaken six months after birth
mejejahitan : prepare offerings
bale delod : the gazebo in the southern end of a Balinese compound
i cening : the Balinese word for a grandchild
toris : lit. tourist, but in Bali refers to Westerners in general

Wayan Suardika was born in Gianyar on 15 April 1963, and has been writing since he was a high school student. From 1994 - 1996 he was arts editor for Nusa Tenggara, one of Bali's three daily newspapers, and his works of journalism have been published in Bali Post, Nusa Tenggara, Karya Bhakti, Kompas, Suara Pembaruan, Mutiara, Gadis and Bali Echo. Several of his novels have been published in serial form in Bali Post ('Rai' [Rai] and 'Lelaki di Luar Pagar' [Boy From the Other Side of the Fence]) and Nusa Tenggara ('Rumput Yang Lain' [A Different Grass] and 'Dua Duda' [Two Widowers]. He is now a freelance journalist and recently pioneered the establishment of the Matahati Cultural Working Group.