Vegetable Korma-Frank Orvalle
Vegetable Korma
By Frank Ovalle
I
"We’re broadening our cultural horizons."
I knew it sounded stupid
before it left my mouth.
To my surprise my two friends nodded,
hungrily embracing another culture
and glad to receive validation
from an ethnic minority.
In our alienation,
we are devoid of traditions,
we are devoid of pride
and of history.
I realized something as I shoveled
curry and potatoes into my mouth
to shut myself up.
We were cultural vampires,
feeding on the robust Indians,
just as we’d done to the
Guatemalans and the Japanese
the week before.
I didn’t want to think about it,
so I shoveled more korma onto my plate
and complimented the spectacular
naan.
II
The two girls clutched mojaris
and cholis and cooed over pricey saris.
I watched in agony as the shopkeep
threw murderous glances without shame.
She could tell what we were.
She could smell it in the money
that the girls handed to her
in exchange for her hundreds of years
of hard-earned culture.
It was hers. It belonged to her
and no amount of money
would ever change that.
Copyright C. 2008 Frank Ovalle
March 1st, 2008 at 9:00 pm
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