Commentary on Misplaced Geishas of Wanchai

Misplaced Geishas of Wanchai is a poem describing the life of Filipino helpers in Hong Kong. The poet uses a lot of visual imageries to illustrate a Sunday in Wanchai, as well as an analogy with Geishas to reveal the miserable and tough conditions and environments of Filipino helpers. Beneath these surface images, the writer also makes us pity the Filipinos, and wants us to respect them.

The poem is a 38-lines free verse, without regular rhythm, but with lots of enjambments for emphasize, not for rhythm. The poet didn’t divide the poem into stanzas, but can be generally divided into two parts, which is separated by ‘this is no teahouse engagement’.

The first part started off with dimsum carts and Soho, a description of location, Hong Kong. It followed by ‘the spires of tired Filipinas’, a consonance to rhyme and emphasize. Then, ‘misplaced geishas’ are described as lacking ‘ancient powder of white nightingale droppings’, ‘penciled crimson and black’ eyes and brows, ‘quick rosebud panted on their lips’, ‘magenta kimonos’, ‘wooden pillows for split-peach hair’, no ‘softly erotic fork of skin’ that geishas should have. These are imageries that lively portrayed the appearance and physical texture of a real geishas, such as color imageries of ‘crimson and black’ eyes and brows and tactile imagery of ‘softly erotic fork of skin’. The geishas worked so hard, and even ‘digging fingernails into flesh’, because ‘everything is potential clientele’, they have no choice, and they can’t lose any chance of earning money. To end this part, the poet compared Filipinas to Geishas once again, that the former is not like the latter, which has an common impression of relaxing in teahouse.

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Immediately, the wordings changed, from pleasant to nasty, from teahouse to sidewalk, from ‘softly erotic fork of skin’ to ‘jack their knobby toes’. The second part brings us directly to Wanchai, where we can see the motions and feelings of Filipinas the poet illustrated. We can feel their ‘desperate for a letter, a pay phone, a six-pack of Pepsi or ticket back to Manila’, which is an alliteration to emphasize their simple wants. The want for a ticket back to Manila represents a similarity between Filipinas and geishas, that they are both unwilling to work that way, but they have to because of money, because of ‘potential clientele’. Then, the poet uses another analogy comparing the Filipinas ‘packed into the covered stairwells and walkways’ when rain falls, and their clients ‘in cafes on vacation in sun in vino in Florence’. This effectively causes a sense of sympathy that the writer wants to express, which also makes us think realistically about the helper in our own home, and even causes some guiltiness, as the clients seems to be so selfish and cruel in the poem.

Finally, at the very end of the poem, the familiar actions and images of Filipinas appear. The poet describes the groups of Filipinas as ‘families’, which is very powerful, as clearly their family are in Philippine, so all they have are the group of friends and colleague to be with, play with, and depend on. This ‘family’ might also be like Geishas’, as Geishas are usually abandoned by their real family, which is another similarity between the two. Once again, there are imageries showing the actions of the families, and most are ugly and unhygienic. One example will be they are ‘lunging sturdy fingers into tubs of peanut butter from 7 eleven or Circle K’, which is quite disgusting to imagine. 7 eleven or Circle K are 24-hour convenient stores, which symbolizes the families, like they are there for the whole day, from morning to night. The only unfamiliar situation in the last part is how the ‘pigs feet and eel and the enormous ox tongue there hooked, for-sale’. It was rarely seen, but it means that the Filipinas never give up a single chance to earn money, as ‘everything is potential clientele’.

In conclusion, through a wide range of descriptions, imageries, and analogies, the author successfully grabbed our attention to the Filipinas, who are like a special group of people represents Hong Kong, like Geishas represents Japan. He expresses the message that it’s tough for them to work in Hong Kong, even tougher than Geishas, and so we should respect them, like how Geishas are respected in Japan, and even more.

Poem:

"Misplaced Geishas of Wanchai"

Way below the rattle of dimsum carts
up in soho, the spires of tired filipinas
potter about the thick trombolo of neon
misplaced geishas, they pass through faces
more simple and more broke, lacking
the ancient powder of while nightingale
droppings, that alabaster glow, beneath
eyes and brows penciled crimson and black,
lacking even a quick rosebud painted on their lips,
without magenta kimonos
or wooden pillows for split-peach hair,
without revealing the softly erotic
fork of skin, unpainted up the back
they wince and pull, digging fingernails into flesh
because eveything is potential
clientelle - this is no
teahouse engagement - they jack their knobby
toes on the sidewalk like the mangled kittens stalking
the same avenue hungrier and sicker but no less
desperate for a letter, a pay phone, a six pack
of pepsi or ticket back to manila.
Now rain falls in shards and they are packed into the covered stairwell and walkways as tight
as their clients in cafes on vacation
in sun in vino in florence, but here they squat
over newspapers, whole families
playing cards and plunging sturdy
fingers into tubs of peanut butter
from 7 eleven or circle K
amidst the sick flanks of day-old beef swinging
clockwise on iron blasted hooks,
meat cleavers tossing scraps
of light and dancing deep into brutish lumps of pig feet
and eel and the enormous ox tongue there
hooked, for-sale. They lick another evening of sweaty
air and dodge the air-conditioners,
spitting the clear and copious
residue of the night