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ribcage together, and her face twisted up.
    “Sister, oh, sister, don’t cry,” said my grandmother, “it will all be alright. You will see. Your boys will get better. You will see.”
    Ah Gim’s shoulders heaved. Her two boys looked up at her, and then at my grandmother. They didn’t know what was going on, and their heads lolled from side to side. “Ma, ma ma ma,” they bleated in every direction, like little goats, and their bleats drowned out the sound of their mother’s weeping.
    So that was how my grandmother came to be in possession of two extra sons, although they lived at the house around the corner. Their “auntie” took such good care of them that my grandmother only had to pay occasional visits. Eventually, the boys did recover from their illness, and although convalescence was slow and their faces were to be permanently cratered, their mother declared it a miracle. She dressed them in their best white shirts and trousers ironed so neatly that the creases in the middle could cut fingers, and she sent them to my grandmother’s house. “But we don’t want to go, Auntie,” they protested.
    “Must go,” demanded their mother.
    “But Auntie …”
    “Must.” She turned her face away from the boys as a smile crept onto her face. She thought that she had put one over the gods.
    “Our auntie sent us here to call you Ma,” said the seven-year-old boy tentatively, standing in the living room of my grandmother’s house. My grandmother sat in her brown wooden chair, looked closely at the two spotty-faced boys, and beamed. “So good to see that you boys are all better now!” she cried. “Oh, I am so happy!”
    My grandfather, who was sitting opposite, did not say anything. Ah Gim stood behind her boys, her hand so heavy on each one’s shoulder that they appeared lopsided. “Your wife is so clever!” she burbled. “She sure knows how to bring up children, doesn’t she? Ah, look at your boys, so good and clever! I only hope that they can be a good influence on these two useless ones.”
    Not knowing how to answer, my grandfather decided to resort to his repertoire of grunts and hmmmpphhs, from which it was impossible to tell whether he concurred or was contemptuous. He scarcely glanced at the two boys and their overzealous aunt. He bore the agony of this visit only by reading a thin volume of Mao Ze Dong poems. Finally, it was time for them to leave.
    “You must bring your sons over to play one day!”
    “Of course! Of course!” said my grandmother. She was standing up, ruffling the hair of the two boys as they walked towards the door.
    “Now say goodbye to your ma!”
    The two boys dutifully bleated their farewells.
    *
    When my grandmother returned to the room, my grandfather was still reading. “Two new sons, now,” said my grandfather, as he slowly turned a page, “two new sons. Are you planning to adopt any more? Perhaps a few more daughters from the village. Yes, a few more girls from the village and perhaps a little goat too hah?”
    “What is the matter with you?” demanded my grandmother.
    “Oh, nothing, nothing.”
    “You should be happy. The more children the merrier.”
    “Hmmmpphhh,” muttered my grandfather, “they’re not my children.”
    “Ah! So that’s what it is, is it?”
    My grandfather remained silent.
    “Not my fault that children like me,” said my grandmother.
    Finally my grandfather erupted. “Sure, children like you, even pockmarked poor excuses like that. But let me tell you one thing. I think you should take care of your own children before your fingers begin to itch for anyone else’s.”
    “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    “Exactly what I said.”
    “And what have you said, old man? Stop talking in circles and tell me what you’re getting at.”
    “Well,” began my grandfather deliberately, “I thought you had no interest in sons, considering what you were trying to do with our fourth boy.”
    “Fourth boy was the past!” cried my