THE HANDSTAND
BY: OGAWA MIMEI
It was at a time when I had been reduced
to painting street signs for a living. My days
were spent entirely in drawing huge
advertisements on billboards for toothpaste,
circuses, bottled beer and ladies underwear.
At first the novelty of my new life made it
tolerable but soon I came to loathe it and to
long for some forms of escape, even if only
temporary
Formerly when I had worked as a serious
painter I had, of course, never taken the
slightest interest in the pictures on billboards.
Let alone given any thought to the people who
painted them. If anything, these pictures had
struck me as an insult to my artistic sensibility.
Yet now when I saw the little drawings printed
on the covers of notebooks in the stationers
or the designs glazed on the lids of paint
boxes, or even the billboards outside theaters.
I would stop and look, and sometimes I found
myself actually being moved by them. I
suppose it was because I had come to realize
that among the people who produced these
drawings there must be many who, like
myself, had once aspired to be real artists but
had been forced by circumstances into this
drudgery.
What made me begin to hate my new
occupation, however, was not just the feeling
that I was prostituting such talents as I might
have; it was the relentless monotony. I soon
learned that almost all the workers with whom
I had now come to spend my time suffered to
a greater or lesser extent from this same
sense of monotony. They were forever
discussing possible ways of breaking the
tedium of their lives.
We would gather in the evening by the
benches near the suburban tenements where
we lived. One by one we arrived from different
directions, exhausted at the end of a long
days work in the heat. We sat down heavily
on the benches or, if there was no longer any
room, squatted beside them on the gravel,
and indolently fanned ourselves as we chatted
away, oblivious to the passing of time.
Along came a couple of young street
-acrobats. Accompanied him on tambourine.
A girl wearing a red sash came out of the ice-
cream parlor opposite where we sat and gave
the boy a copper. Later a young woman
strolled past with a samisen, her hair fastened
in a bun with a green comb, and carrying a
baby on her back.
Not bad looking, eh?
I bet shes an ex-geisha or something.
What do you think?
She walked up and down the street in
front of us. Occasionally, she stopped and
strummed on her samisen. Later a huge, dirty-
looking woman in an advanced state of
pregnancy waddled past us. We looked at her
in fascination. She was the most repulsive
woman we had ever seen. So that day drew
slowly to an end.
A good job? Hell, theres no such things
as a good job! Its all a lot of sweat! If anyone
thinks its fin making a living, hes crazy.
No, well never get anywhere this way.
Just sweat away till we croak, thats all! The
only way to make money is gambling.
Gambling, eh? said a large, dark-
skinned bricklayer who was squatting next to
the bench in his undershirt. Ill tell you about
gambling. When I lived in Shitaya, there was a
girl in the neighborhood about 24 years old.
She was pretty little piece, I can tell you! I
used to watch her passing outside my
window. She strutted past in her straw sandals
with her head high in the air. She wore a big
gold chain over her breast and always carried
a shining patent- leather handbag. She had a
gold chain on the bag also. She lived in a
poor-looking sort of house and I got to
wondering how she could afford to doll herself
up like that. Then I heard shed been gambling
and made quite a pile. Thats how to get rich,
I thought to myself. Even women can do it.
Then early one morning on my way to work I
saw a girl hurrying out of a low-class brothel. I
just saw her back but there was something
familiar about the way she walked. I followed
her for a while and then I saw her face as she
got on a tram. It was the girl with the gold
chain, all right! So much for gambling.
 Thats right, said a serious- looking man
on the bench. You cant always hit it lucky.
And even if you do, it doesnt always work out.
Why, only last week I saw in the paper that a
certain man won a gambling pool or
something. Hed been hard up all his life and
then all of a sudden about half a million yen
fell on his lap. What did he do. He went stark
raving mad and murdered his wife with a
hatchet! No, its no good when things change
too much Im not sure it isnt best to jog
along the way we do. the man sat looking
straight ahead after he had spoken. He
seemed quite moved by what he said.after a
while he got up and left. Then one by one the
others began to leave, some to start their
night shifts, some for the public baths, some
for home. Soon they had all gone except
myself, a tinsmith called Cho, and two others.
Is it hArd to learn the flute? said Kichiko,
an engineers mate. Id like to play the flute.
What an idea! Said Cho with a smile.
Hows a clumsy ox like you going to play the
flute? Anyhow it takes years before you can
play an instrument.
I suppose youre a great hand at the
flute, said Kichiko.
No, I cant play. I like listening, though,
said Cho.
Well, youre a fine one to tell me I cant
play the flute. Youre a clumsy brute yourself.
I may not be able to play, but at least I
know what it,s all about. You havent got the
vaguest idea what art is. Its not something
you can learn like playing tiddlywinks!
Oh yes, Id forgotten. Youre a great
artist, arent you? said Kichiko laughing. A
great artist when it comes to singing songs in
the beer parlor, I mean!
Im good at standing on my hands,
announced Cho, beaming all over but with a
touch of genuine pride. Cho was a rather
silent man. He had a large round face - almost
bloated, in fact. There was something about
his expression that made one feel he was
smiling inwardly all the time in a warm,
pleasant way.
Standing on your hands? What a very
original art! I said without thinking. We all
laughed including Cho.
I did not know why, but for some reason
Chos handstanding excited my curiosity. In
time I came to learn from Cho himself and
from some of his friends how he had acquired
this avocation. It appeared that he had once
seen a girl doing a handstanding stunt in the
circus. Standing upright on her hand, she had
crossed a long narrow plank suspended
between two platforms high over the arena.
Cho had been greatly impressed. There
seemed to be no catch in this as in so many
other circus tricks; it was purely the result of
long practice. Suddenly it occurred to him, as
he sat there in the circus, that he could learn
the trick himself.
From them on, he began practicing
handstands whenever he had time after
meals, in the evenings, and in the brief rest
periods between work. At least it broke the
monotony.
Often he was discouraged and felt that he
would never be any good. Yet he persevered.
Its that girl, he told me once, that girl at the
circus. I just cant get her out of my mind. She
was real beauty, you know. Fine white teeth,
red lips, lovely breasts, big, dark, mysterious
eyes- shes the prettiest girl Ive seen.
He had never seen her again, but by his
handstanding he kept her memory alive. Apart
from this, there was, I guessed, a hidden
motive that made him continue his exhausting
pastime. By becoming an expert handstander
himself, as great as this girl if not greater, was
he not in some way derogating from the
perfection which he had originally seen in her,
thereby making her in this respect at least,
less wonderful? By surpassingher in the art of
handstanding, by taking for himself the praise
that had originally been hers, was he not
somehow punishing her for being so
completely unattainable?
The trouble was, said Cho, I didnt
have a high narrow plank to practice on. But I
got round this in the end. I found a straw mat
with a thin black border becomes the plank
and both edges become sheer drops
hundreds of feet high. So when I practice
walking along the edge of the mat on my
hands, Im as frightened of falling as I would
be in the circus. Well, Ive got it now so I can
do it every time without even swaying. And if I
can do it on the mat, I dont see why I couldnt
do it in the circus like she did but of course
Ill never really know.
 That girl certainly did something to you,
I said to Cho one day. Cho looked at me
seriously. Its the same as painting, he said.
When you see something beautiful, it gets you
in some way, doesnt it, and that makes you
want to paint it. Youll work away like mad
trying to paint it, wont you? Well, its the same
with me. Only I cant paint so Ive got to
imitate what Ive seen. Is that so strange?
His explanation struck me as quite
reasonable.
Look Cho, said Kichiko that evening
when I first heard about the handstanding,
why dont you let us see you do it now? he
laughed and looked round. The last rays of
the summer sun were fading; the sky had lost
its brightness and become a light transparent
blue. A slight wind blown up and dull, vaguely
colored clouds scudded past high above us.
Would you really like to see? said Cho
carefully. He stood up and leaned forward on
one of the benches. As he put his weight on it,
the bench shifted slightly on the gravel.
Id better do it here, he said. He planted
his hands firmly on the ground next to the
bench and raised himself a couple of times,
falling back lightly in, the same place. Then,
keeping both legs closely together, he moved
slowly up until he was standing vertically in
the air. The soles of his straw sandals faced
the surface of the limpid evening sky. His
plump arms were slightly bent as they
supported his heavy, squat body. As the blood
ran to his head his face became so dark one
could hardly distinguish it from the earth.
Kichiko whistled with admiration. Thats
good, he said. Thats pretty damned good!
Quite a few people had gathered from the
neighborhood to watch Chos performance
and they were all exclaiming their admiration
as he held his feet immobile in the air. When
he stood up again, a couple of the local
errand boys and a few other enterprising
young fellows began to try the trick. After I left,
I turned back and saw them all in their light
shirts standing upside down by the benches in
the gathering dusk.
There was a large steelwork in the
neighborhood. Most of the workers were
regular employees, but there was also quite a
number of casual laborers who drifted in from
the other factories or from the mines and
usually left again after a time. One evening as
we gathered by our benches, a small,
intelligent-looking man joined us. Youre new
around here, arent you? I said.
Thats right. Ive just got myself a job as
lathe man in those ironworks over there. Ive
got lodgings here, too.
He soon established himself as one of
our group. We all found him interesting
because he had spent his life moving from
place to place and could describe all sorts of
things that were unfamiliar to us. Although
uneducated, he was a good talker and, as he
told us of the hardships he had undergone,
the strange places where he had worked, the
odd customs he had observed in the other
parts of Japan, and the efforts of workers to
improve their conditions, we felt that we were
being lifted out of the prisons of our narrow
lives.
His lively eyes shone as he described life
underground in the Aso mines where he had
formerly worked. To get to the first pit, you go
down a hundred and fifty feet in the cage.
Then down you go another hundred and fifty
feet to the next pit. There are twelve pits
altogether. In the bottom pit the temperature
was nearly a hundred degrees just from the
heat of the earth. There was a whole lot of us
working down there. The air was pumped
down from the pit head. But after youd been
down there awhile, it got so damned hard to
breathe your lungs were fit to burst. I was in
the war and I can tell you that to spend eight
hours down there in that mine was worse than
twenty four under enemy fire.
And dont let them tell you mining isnt
dangerous! Down there youre at the mercy of
machines and theyre always going wrong.
One of the fellows I knew was pulling a loaded
trolley onto the elevator. At least he thought
the elevator was there but something had
gone wrong and instead he stepped backward
into the empty shaft and went shooting down
hundreds of feet with the trolley on top of him.
You could hear him screaming right down to
the bottom.
You see, the strain down makes you
careless in the end. Lots of the fellows get
blown to smithereens by the dynamite theyve
planted themselves. Sometimes they even
knock down the props when theyre working
and get buried alive.
 But Ill tell you something funny. While
youre down there in the mine, youre so busy
with your work, youre so damned glad you
havent had an accident yourself and trying so
hard to watch out in the future, that you dont
have time to worry about anything else. Its
when you come out on the surface after a
days work that you start thinking. You see
other people walking about up there whove
never been down a mine in all their lives. And
you get to asking yourself: What the hell! Im
no different from them. What do I spend all
day down in that damned hole for?
Thats the way lots of us began figuring.
It wasnt hard to get the other fellows to see
our point of view. What the hell, we were
risking our lives down there every day to
make profits for the company. We all got
together and were going to make a set of
minimum demands for our safety- not wages,
mind you, just for our safety. But we had an
informer among us. Our plan leaked out and
the company put a stop to it all.
Later on, a couple of smooth, well-
dressed men came along and told us how we
ought to organize ourselves. Theyd never
been farther down a mine than the pit head
but they pretended to know all about it. Well,
we miners were a pretty uneducated bunch
but we could tell fakes when we saw them. If
these men really had our interests at heart,
wed have felt it and gone along with them all
the way. But it didnt take us long to see they
were the type to make their living out of our
troubles- and a damned good living too.
Better honor than life, they used to teach us
in the army. Well, these men wanted honor
and life- and plenty of both- all at our
expense. The dirty rats- what could they teach
us? Its lucky for them they cleared out before
I got my hands on them!
No one who hasnt really been a worker
knows what its all about. You cant learn it out
of a book. Youve got to be a worker, youve
got to live like a worker, day after day, year
after year. Thats the only way to get to
understand the labor problem.
We werent born to live like slaves or
animals! We workers deserve the same share
of the countrys wealth as everyone else.
Thats what Id like to tell society.
A socialist, I thought to myself and
wondered whether all the others realized it.
They used to sit listening to him in silence and
occasionally I noticed Cho sighing as if moved
by something the man had said.
One day as I was strolling down the sunlit
street, I stopped dead in my tracks. Some of
the things the little man had said suddenly
came back to me with extra ordinary force. It
was as if I had been walking along a narrow
single -track railway bridge and had abruptly
been struck by the thought: What shall I do if
a train comes rushing towards me? Perhaps
the time would come when Id have to make
such a decision. The idea made my heart
pound like a hammer.
The little man told us one day about a
derelict mine. The ore had given and the
miners had all moved to other pits. The power
was still connected, however, and one
morning the lights were turned on for a party
of visiting journalists. One of the men get
separated from the rest of the group and,
before he knew it, he was hopelessly lost in
the mazes of tunnels and passages which
twisted about underground like the coils of
some immense serpent. He must have rushed
around, gradually becoming panic- stricken, in
those weird, deserted corridors hundreds of
feet below the ground. His shouts for help
would have been deadened by the thick walls.
And then he ran headlong into the open
elevator- pit and fell hundreds of feet into pitch
darkness.
This story made a great impression on
me and it was long before I could rid my mind
of the terrifying vision.
Gradually I came to think that, however
monotonous and unrewarding my present
work might be, I should at least be grateful
that it was fate.After all, I said one evening,
Why do we work anyway? When alls said
and done, surely its so we can earn enough
to keep alive. In that case, its a complete
contradiction to take a job where youre
risking your life.
It seemed unbelievable to me that
anyone should be so mad as to do work in
which he might at any moment be killed. Later
I was to learn that such logic does not always
apply and that to break the unendurable
monotony of their lives, some people will in
fact do things which can only be classed as
insane.
 Cho and the little man became friends
and I often saw them together. One evening
as I was calling for Cho on my way back from
work, I found him standing outside his shop
talking to the little man. They both nodded to
me. The man had a map in his hands. Here it
is, he said, pointing a small corner of land
sticking out into the blue northern sea, heres
Nikolaevsk. Thats where Ill be heading now.
A friend of mines, he continued, I first
thought Id try my luck somewhere really far
away- Sakhalin, Kamchatka, or somewhere.
But then I thought if I came to Tokyo Id meet
a lot of interesting people, people I could talk
to, people who felt like I did about things. Ive
always been a great talker, you know, ever
since I was a youngster. Well, Ive got to like a
lot of you fellows, but Im not really your type.
So now, Im pushing on. I wont be going
straight to Nikolaevsks. Ill spend the winter
working in Hokkaido and try crossing over to
the mainland next spring. He passed for a
while. I suppose the fact is Im just a born
wanderer, he added, laughing. We said
goodbye, and Cho and I stood watching him
walk away in the distance.
He asked me if I wanted to go with him,
said Cho. And I would have, too, except for
my old mother. Shed be lost without me.
We started walking along slowly. A few
sprigs of wilted morning glory stood in a black,
unglazed vase in a window opposite the shop.
It was really amazing how blue the sky was.
Under this deep, weird, silent blue, the black-
tiled roofs of the houses seemed to roll sadly
into the distance like dunes along a seashore.
None of us ever saw the little man again.
We heard that he found a job in a factory at
oil. No doubt he made his way to Hokkaido
and perhaps he even reached Nikolaevsk.
Whenever he may be, I am sure he is
heatedly expounding his theories.
I thought about him often. I remembered
the clear look in his eyes when he was not
talking. In them, were reflected the images of
faraway mountains, of clouds floating across
distant skies, of infinitely remote stars, and
sometimes of the dark, raging ocean. Yes, he
was a wanderer and I felt that like the
wanderers of old he had within him a song
that comforted him in his weariness and that
constantly spurred him on to discover new
places and new ideas. Compared to him the
members of our group, rooted here in our
dreary suburb, seemed to me men exhausted
by the monotony of work, men in whom all
spirit of adventure had atrophied. At least, that
is what I thought until the following incident.
I had spent all day painting a huge
advertisement for womans dresses on a tin
billboard. In the evening when I had finished, I
decided to pass by Chos shop. It was a close
sultry evening and although the summer was
almost over, the sun was extremely hot. There
was not the slightest breeze. When I arrived,
Cho was standing in a shirt and a pair of khaki
trousers working on a shiny tin bucket.
Have you ever been to the girls circus at
Asakusa? he said when he saw me.
No, never. Ive been to the opera once-
thats all.
Id like to go to the amusement park at
Asakusa, said Cho, wiping the perspiration
off his face.
Asakusa, I said. That shouldnt be too
difficult. It doesnt take all that long to get
there.
Its all right if youve got money. Then
you can go to the mountains for the summer.
But when am I going to have time to go to
Asakusa? I suppose thats what they mean
by no leisure for the poor. His face was
wreathed in smiles; he looked as if he was
imagining the gay, bustling pleasure grounds
of Asakusa.
Presently Kichiko, the engineers mate,
joined us. He had on a short workmans coat.
Well, hot enough for you? he said in his
gruff voice. Whats happening? Anything
interesting?
No, said Cho. By the way, Kichi, where
were you last night?
Last night?, Oh yes, after work I went
down to the river at Ryogoku to cool off. He
sat down on Chos work bench and began
fanning himself.
Look, Cho, said Kichiko after a while.
What about you and me climbing that
chimney over there by the spinning mill? Wed
get quite a view.
In this heat? said Cho. How high do
you suppose it is?
 Come on, dont be a coward. said
Kichiko laughing. Its two hundred and fifty
feet.
Heights dont bother me, said Cho. I
was always climbing trees when I was a kid.
Well, then, lets go.
What about you? said cho, looking in
my direction.
I remember how I had once peered out of
the window from the fourth floor of an office
building. The pavement below had looked
white and dry in the glaring sun, and the heat
seemed to be flashing from the hard surface.
Suddenly I had imagined how my blood would
redden those burned, white stones if I fell out
of the window.
I glanced at Cho but did not answer.
Just then Kichiko looked at me. Come
on. he said. You can have a go at painting
the top of the chimney. Itll be more fun than
those billboards of yours!
I was too much of a coward to admit that I
was frightened of heights. All right, Ill come
along, I said, even simulating a certain
enthusiasm.
The three of us left Chos shop. On our
way we stopped at an ice cream parlor and
each had a glass of ice water. Then we set out
for the spinning mill. It was on a huge dusty
plain at the edge of the city. As we trudge
along, the shriek of the crickets reverberated
in my ears like the sound of a boiling kettle.
The perspiration was streaming down my
forehead. We were all looking ahead at the
chimney which reared itself before us under
the blue, cloud-speckled sky. It had only
recently been completed and the scaffolding
was still coiled around it all the way to the top
like a monstrous snake. There was no smoke.
We reached the chimney in about 15
minutes.
Are you sure its 200 and 50 feet? Said
Cho, looking up.It doesnt seem that high
from here.
Come and see, said Kichiko. Youll get
dizzy just standing down here staring at it. He
bent his head back and looked up to the top.
Imagine working up there, though, he added.
They wouldnt get me to work on a chimney
like that for anything.
We took off our coats and threw them on
the ground next to the solid- looking brick
foundation; then we removed our shoes and
wet the palms of our hands with spittle. I put
one foot on the rickety scaffolding and
glanced back at the city: under the deep blue
sky the rooftops stretched out in solid black
rows; they looked very safe.
Kichiko started climbing first; after him
went the rotund Cho and finally myself. The
steps were not built straight, but circled round
the chimney in an endless- looking spiral. The
narrow iron rungs dug sharply into the soft
soles of my feet.
I had not realized what this climb would
be like. As the other two moved steadily
upward round the chimney, I gradually began
to fall behind. When I had reached about the
halfway mark, I suddenly felt I could not
continue. But glancing down, I realized that it
would be at least as hard to start going down.
From now on, I forced every muscle in my
body to continue climbing. My feet no longer
hurt, but my legs were trembling
uncontrollably, and although I planted myself
firmly on each rung, I had the uncomfortable
feeling that any moment my body would float
off into space of its own accord.
The wind was blowing quite hard up here
and I could hear some of the looser boards of
the scaffolding clatter noisily. If just one of
these flimsy rungs should slip or break, Id
lose my footing and go plunging headlong into
space. At the thought, a cold sweat ran over
my whole body. My hands were particularly
clammy and I was certain that they would slip
as I grasped the rungs above. If only I could
wipe them or rub them with sand.
Looking up, I saw that Kichiko had
reached the top of the chimney. He was
standing on the narrow bricklayers platform
that surrounded it and leaning with both his
hands on a low, perilous railing. He looked
round at the scenery. Now Cho reached the
top and joined Kichiko in admiring the view.
From time to time they glanced down the side
of the chimney to see how I was getting on.
 Finally I reached the top. It was broader
than I had imagined while climbing - about 6
ft. In diameter. My legs were twitching with a
sort of cramp and I realized that I could not
possibly stand on the platform with the other
two. Instead I squatted down carefully on the
wooden boards and held onto the bottom of
the railing with both hands. My teeth chattered
and my whole body was trembling.
I no longer cared in the slightest what
impression on my companions. My only object
now was to elicit their sympathy so that they
might somehow help me to reach the ground
safely. Normally they would have laughed to
see me in this condition and probably they
would have teased me. But now they just
glanced at me occasionally without smiling or
saying anything as if it were quite normal that
I should be in such a state. In some way, this
attitude of theirs added still further to my
anxiety. I should almost have welcomed some
normal bantering. Instead I heard Cho saying:
Take a look over there, Kichi. The seas come
right up close, hasnt it? And look at those
trams. Theyre just like little crawling bugs
Whats that tower over there?
Thats the 12- story pagoda of Asakusa,
answered Kichiko nonchalantly.
I just stared straight down at the wooden
boards. My head was blank and there was a
haze in front of my eyes. Yet I could not help
noticing between the wide cracks of the
boards people down below like tiny black
beans. At this sight my throat became clogged
and I could hardly breathe. I must stay still, I
told myself. If I try looking at the sea or the 12
story pagoda of Asakusa, Im done for.
Gradually I noticed that the sun was
sinking and that the whole sky had turned
crimson. Why in Gods name had I come up
here? How would I ever get down? I was
bound to lose my footing on those endless
steps. As my mind darted back over my past
life, which now seemed infinitely remote, I
remembered with shame how I had cursed
the monotony and never felt really grateful for
its safety.
Only a few feet away gaped the huge,
black, empty mouth of the chimney. I was
aware of a distant rumbling sound coming
from its depths, like the roar of some great
monster. At the same time I suddenly realized
that the entire chimney was swaying to and
fro, even if only very slightly. I had forgotten
that tall buildings and chimneys move in the
wind.
A sense of despair came over me. Just
then I heard an astounding remark from
Kichiko.
I dont suppose you could do that trick of
yours up here? he said.
I looked up at Cho, who was standing
directly over me. His face at this moment
seemed more enormous than ever. He smiled
strangely and looked around.
Of course I could, he said after a while.
I can stand on my hands anywhere. The
trouble is, theres no proper place to rest my
hands on up here. These damned boards
bend every time you step on them. Besides,
this platforms so narrow that the railing would
get in the way when I raised my legs.
Supposing we bet you? If you can do it
up here, well each give you a yen. said
Kichiko after a pause. What about it? he
added, looking down at me. Youd give him a
yen, wouldnt you?
The whole thin was a joke, he realized.
Cho was a determined fellow, but he wasnt
crazy. He obviously knew that this would be
suicide. I nodded silently at Kichiko. Id share
in the joke, if thats what they wanted.
Youd each give me a yen, eh? said
Cho. That makes a whole days wages.
Only look here, said Kichiko laughing
nervously,If you make a mistake, itll be the
end of you. Ill have to go down and pick up
the mess.
You neednt tell me. I can figure that out
for myself,said Cho. The trouble is, he
continued, as if speaking to himself, where
would I put my hands? He looked all around
the platform. Then his eyes came to rest on
the thick iron mouth of the chimney. He bent
over and looked into the great black opening.
If I do it,he said, Ill stand on this edge.
He felt the surface of the chimney top.
The trouble is, its damned
slippery.Suddenly his expression changed,
and with a sense of horror I knew that he was
going to try the trick. I wanted to stop him and
began to stutter out something, but the words
wouldnt come. All I could do was to squat
there gazing up at him intently with my sunken
eyes. Surely, I thought, he could not be doing
this for the two yen, however much he may
have wanted to spend the day at Asakusa.
Could it be that he was still trying in some
strange way to get the better of that girl at the
circus? Or was he emulating the little man and
defying monotony in his own way? I never
knew. The next moment I heard Cho say: All
right, Ill take the wager. Ill have to go. there
was no longer the slightest trace of laughter in
his voice.
Wait a minute, said Kichiko, suddenly
becoming dead serious. You know whatll
happen if you slip.
If I slip, thats the end of me. There was
a touch of defiance in Chos voice as he threw
out the words. He turned round in the
direction of the city and stared at it for a few
moments. The sun was rapidly disappearing
now and strangely shaped tufts of cloud
drifted past in the darkening sky. Yet the top of
our chimney was brilliant red from the last
rays of the sun, as if illuminated by giant
flames.
Cho spat on his hands and rubbed his
palms carefully with a handkerchief to remove
any trace of greasiness. Then he hung the
handkerchief on the railing and, bracing
himself, planted both hands on the iron mouth
of the chimney. For several moments he stood
there peering down into the huge, black
opening from whose depths emerged the
continual roaring sound. I glanced at him. His
eyes protruded from their sockets, his short
head was wet with perspiration. All this time
the chimney swayed rhythmically to and fro in
the wind.
Cho brought his legs together and drew
them in as far as possible to avoid catching
them on the railing. Once they were raised, it
would be too late to make any adjustment.
Should he then miscalculate and lose his
balance, he would either fall headlong into the
200 and 50 ft. Gullet of the chimney or
backward over the railing and down to the
hard ground below.
His legs had now left the platform and
were already a few feet in the air. My head
began going round and I had to look down.
When I next glanced up, Cho was gradually
straightening his legs. A moment later they
were fully extended and now he stood there
on his hands, his body a rigid line against the
evening sky. A presentiment of relief ran
through me.
Kichiko had not taken his eyes off Cho for
a moment. He continue to gaze fixedly at him
as he now slowly drew in his legs and began
to retrace the line he had drawn in the air.
Skillfully avoiding the railing, he gradually
brought them back to the platform. For the first
time since the performance had begun, I
allowed myself to look straight at him. The
strength of his entire body seemed to be
concentrated in the bulging muscles of his
arms. I noticed that a sort of spasm was
passing from the nape of his neck to his
shoulders. His hair was drenched.
The handstand was safely completed. For
a while none of us spoke. Cho stood staring
straight into space with unblinking, protruding
eyes. His complexion was not even pale, but
completely colorless like a dead mans. round
the corners of his mouth I detected a cool,
dark, self- mocking smile.
In a flash I remembered seeing such a
smile once before. A car had come hurtling
along the street where I was walking and
had almost run over a man working on the
tramlines. By some miracle he had
escaped, though the side of the car must
have grazed his overalls. Afterward he had
stood there rigid in the middle of the street
still holding a large granite paving stone. His
eyes were wide open and there was a weird
smile on his face. The car disappeared in
the distance and the people who had
stopped to look hurried on; but the man still
stood there staring straight ahead into
space.
Then I noticed a black bird skimming
past directly over the chimney and
silhouetted strangely against the dark sky.
Kichiko was the to go down and I followed
him. Glancing back, I saw Cho still standing
there on the platform. His face was that of a
dead man. He seemed sunk in thought.