The Republic of Wine

Mother-in-law said sadly, That boy, Little Seal, is now a military commander. Obviously, she was airing her dissatisfaction with my father-in-law. What’s so great about a military commander? my wife said. My father’s a college professor and a distilling specialist, every bit as impressive as some little military commander! My mother-in-law glanced over at me. She always sides with her father, she complained. It’s the Electra complex, I said. My wife stared daggers at me. My mother-in-law said, 'On the day the boat set sail, the most exciting event was getting the buffalo on board.'
    'Buffaloes are very intelligent,' she said. 'Particularly when they’re not neutered. Knowing what was in store for it, the animal’s eyes turned red as soon as it neared the pier. Panting heavily, it tugged mightily on the harness, nearly jerking my uncle off his feet.' My mother-in-law said, A narrow gangplank connected the boat at a slant to the stone steps of the pier. Beneath it only muddy seawater. The buffalo’s front hooves stopped at the edge of the gangplank and it refused to move another inch. My uncle tugged with all his might, like a baby at the nipple, until the steel nose ring stretched the buffalo’s nose to bursting point; the pain must have been unbearable. But the buffalo held its ground and refused to go on board. In a life-and-death struggle, what does it matter to lose a nose? My mother-in-law said that her other uncles rushed up to help get the buffalo aboard, but no matter how hard they pushed they couldn’t budge it. Not only that, the buffalo kicked out angrily and crippled the leg of one of her uncles.
    My mother-in-law said her youngest uncle was not only stronger than his brothers, but more intelligent as well He took the rope from his brother and walked the buffalo along the beach while talking to the animal, leaving a trail of their footprints in the sand. Finally, he removed his shirt, covered the buffalo’s head, and led it back to the gangplank all by himself. The wooden plank sagged heavily from the weight of the animal, turning it into a bow. The animal knew it was walking a dangerous path, for it placed its hooves as carefully as a circus goat on a tightwire. Once the buffalo was aboard, the people boarded, and the gangplank was cast off. With a whoosh the sails were set. Her youngest uncle removed his shirt from the buffalo’s head. The animal was quaking, its hooves skittering on the deck. It let out a mournful cry. Gradually, the land disappeared, and the island loomed larger and larger, shrouded in mist and fog, a fairy mountain, a mythical palace.
    My mother-in-law said that after her father and uncles anchored their boat in a cove, her youngest uncle took the buffalo ashore. The expression on everyone’s face was grave, almost religious. As soon as they set foot on the desolate, thorn-covered ground, the irritable buffalo turned as docile as a lamb. The blood-red color vanished from its eyes, replaced by a deep ocean blue, the same color as her youngest uncle’s eyes.
    My mother-in-law said it was dusk when they landed on the deserted island. Red lights flickered on the sea, flocks of circling birds filled the air with deafening shrieks. The party of gatherers slept under the night sky, hardly speaking to one another. Early the next morning, after breakfast, her father said, 'Let’s do it.' The mysterious, risky job of gathering swallows’ nests had begun.
    A great many dark caves dotted the island. My mother-in-law said that her father set up an altar outside a large cave, burned a bundle of spirit money, kowtowed several times, then commanded, Kill the sacrificial animal! His six brothers rushed up and shoved the buffalo onto its side. Strangely enough, the powerful buffalo put up no resistance; rather than being pushed off its feet by the six men, it was as if it lay down on its own. Its legs simply crumpled, as if made of dough, and it fell to the ground, where it lay quietly, its powerful neck resting on the rocky surface, connected awkwardly to its gigantic head with its steel-green horns, as if they were welded together. The way it lay there showed that it was willing to accept its fate of serving as a sacrifice to the god of the cave. My mother-in-law said she vaguely sensed that the swallows’ nests were the private property of the god of the cave, and that her father and uncles were offering this powerful buffalo as trade with the god, which must have been a ferocious