Friday, March 12, 2004

I was at the police station until one in the morning. My dad's taking that violent Gino's pizza beast to criminal court. Wants to implement a "peace bond", a parole sentencing of 12 months. Then told me he'll probably take that bastard to civil court if he decides to sue. My dad has to take medication to go to sleep due to his injuries and has a broken rib. He also told me to tell the sergeant that one cop was asking him irrelevent questions, patronizing him, acted in a condescending manner:

Bad Cop: Sir, what country are you from?

Dad: Me? I'm from China.

Bad Cop: Do you fight in your country?

Dad: I am 15 years, Canadian citizen.

I was at the police station as the translator since my parents speak Chinglish.

"So, the man ... Okay, he veddy big, eh? He hold me here, and I no can breathe. And he push, push, push, push, push my head. So hurt. And I ta-ow him 'I no happy,' but he, oh, just hahaha, laughing."

"He means 'hit', officer."

Basically, I can forget about going to Cuba because I have to deal with all the legal negotiations. I told my editors, Jim and Rick, about it and they wanted me to do a piece on the experiences of a 17 year old Chinese girl in Hamilton. How it feels to be a first generation child with immigrant parents (even though I immigrated here, too.) What sort of treatment we get from the authorities. Incompetence? Insincerity? Prejudice? Which means, I now have a designated spot in the City and Entertainment sections.


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