“Cypsy” meant stealing. In Japan, accusing someone of stealing is a very serious accusation. I knew it, but still I was yelling at her. She put on her kimono and rushed out and came back immediately with all my clothes and my wallet. My boots had been nicely polished, my uniform pressed and my money was still all there. I was feeling so cheap. I didn’t know which way to turn. I finally chose to kiss her. A real kiss. At that point Racette came into my room. He, too, was naked like a worm. He had heard my screaming and was coming to rescue me. When he saw me kissing the girl, he was a bit surprised: —What are you doing, Eddy? I came in a hurry; I thought somebody was beating you up. You screamed like a pig being killed. What happened? —Sorry, Racette, if I scared you, but don’t worry, I am fine. It was a misunderstanding. I thought I had been robbed but in fact it was the
contrary. Now I laugh because I am so happy. These girls are so nice to us. At that moment, his cute girl came in bringing his clothes. He too was amazed by the treatment. To show my gratitude I decided to stay a few more days. When the time came to go back to the camp, my girl told me it was too risky to walk in plain view because the hotel was located outside of the bounds and that day there were lots of military police patrolling the sector. She offered to help me get back to the camp and gave me a kimono and a pair of sandals to hide my identity. I accepted her offer without resisting. Since I started misleading people about my identity, I no longer really had any misgivings about passing for someone else. While I was getting dressed, I heard some kind of radio static and looked out. There was a military jeep right in front of the hotel. I was able to hear them radioing to their base,
ANOT. 2.01 KAIE KELLOUGH
From Accordéon. Published by ARP Books in 2016. Kaie Kellough is the author of two books of poetry, Lettricity and Maple Leaf Rag. He lives in Montreal.
A
ny person might be an undercover operative: the security guard in the Concordia University lobby, the disaffected art student with an asymmetrical haircut smoking outside Café Myriade. That bus driver, steering the 24 down Sherbrooke street, with her teased bangs, drinking a Cott grape soda, she could be observing the culture and reporting back. That homeless man asking for change inside McGill metro, insulting the students as they hurry to class, nursing a can of Pabst at nine in the morning, he
could be undercover. General Montcalm might well have been one of the earliest operatives, clandestine even to himself. You, turning slowly down Union street and passing The People’s Church, getting into your Volkswagen and driving out to the suburbs, you could be reporting on what you hear at PTA meetings, on what your children learn at school, on who they play with and what video games their friends enjoy. Undercovers operate in the blind zone of their own consciousness. Every
reporting that they were at an out-ofbounds hotel. They were coming in to check if any soldiers were inside. The girl had anticipated their move, so she put a towel over my head to hide my army haircut and we left the house as if we were ordinary customers. While passing by the jeep, she kept talking to me in Japanese and I replied to her in Inuktitut. I remember telling her: —Emaha! Emaha! Emaha means, “hoping so far.” Apparently, my disguise was very good and my Inuktitut sounded Japanese enough, since we made it out without being stopped.
six months they are picked up while walking alone down a quiet street, or exiting the McCord museum, where they saw a boring exhibit titled Sublime Cities. They are taken to Ministry headquarters, located inside the mountain that rises from the centre of the city. They are questioned, secretly administered an amnesiac, and finally they are returned to the exact location from which they were picked up. I could be a Ministry operative without knowing it, but I know that I am not, I am certain that I am not. I am certain because I have been taken up in the flying canoe, and no Ministry operative has ever been taken up in the flying canoe. It is not possible for a person to be a member of the Ministry and to be a passenger in the canoe. It is not possible.
couple of stereotypes.” GOOD FOOD AND THE PROBLEMATIC SEARCH FOR AUTHENTICITY: How many times have you eaten at the Olive Garden and not thought twice about their menu offering “authentic Italian food” or visited Agra Indian Restaurant in Tarzana, whose website offers “Authentic Indian Cuisine as Seen on Keeping up with
38 Geist 108 Spring 2018
