Home By Marquel The Phone Number Keeper

The Phone Number Keeper

Marquel, TPVs NYTimes Privacy and Net Neutrality Section correspondent, was surfing the Net, when he read, 2 Members of Sect Executed in China for Deadly Beating at McDonald’s.

The followers of the Church of Almighty God, a banned religious order, were executed over the deadly attack of a woman who had declined to give her phone number. Unlike in Americas, where we are encouraged to keep our privacy private, the Chinese seem to feel otherwise. Not to give your number is thought of as evil and, as in this case, can lead to your death. Marquel wondered how such different societies could ever hope to mesh or at least understand one another.

Marquel went to Chinatown and visited Mufi’s restaurant. He explained his interest and Mufi said fine, emphasizing, “good luck.” It was lunchtime and the restaurant, even though unmarked, was overflowing.

Marquel approached two men, and said hello. They offered him some noodles and barbecued quail but Marquel said he had just one question.

“Yes, what is it?” They asked.

“What’s your phone number?” I asked.
Both gave me their phone numbers without hesitation. They looked at me with anticipation. They wanted something. “Quail sauce?” I asked. “I’ll get it for you.”
“No no. Your number. What’s your number?” They asked.
I was uncomfortable. I knew nothing about these two except they liked quail in barbecue sauce. But their stares told me I owed them my number. So I gave it.
“You know, in America, your phone number is private. It would be like asking a stranger if he or she were a virgin.” I said.
“Virgin, virgin,” they said, laughing and smiling. “Only virgins give telephone number? Good idea!” They exclaimed.
“No, no.” I said, “nobody gives their number. Especially a virgin.”
“That not good. She stay virgin long time like that.” Said one.
“But what if you ask me for my number and I say it’s private?” I asked.
“We be offended,” they said.
I went up to ten more tables. They all gave me their numbers and asked for mine. I went back to the first table.
“Very well what if I just walked up to a stranger and said hello. And then I said, ‘you don’t look well. Have you seen a doctor lately?’ Is there a sense of invasion of privacy?” I asked.
“That could start a fight. You don’t pry like that.”  They said.
“Then why isn’t a telephone number private. Isn’t it prying?” I asked.
“No. It means you want to continue the conversation. What’s wrong with that?” They asked.
” Well, okay, I don’t really understand. How come this Christian group killed a woman who wouldn’t give her number?” I asked.
“Well Christian group is not real Chinese group. Kind of silly. Why be Christian in China? You can be Buddhist. Or any number of other religions. But Christian not Chinese.” They said.
“So they killed her because they were Christians?” I asked.
“No no. That group nuts. That’s what I mean. For Chinese, you nuts to be Christian. Why do that? But still the woman nuts too. So she insulted this Christian group that already knows they’re nuts so maybe like the woman was calling them nuts, and they overreacted a bit.” They said.
“Just a bit. It’s there any reason for this difference between us?” They motioned to Mufi and a waiter came with roast boar in peanut ginger and garlic sauce with tropical bird syrup. They dug in.
Halfway through, they looked at each other, and almost conspiratorially turned to me. “It’s also Mao,” they said. “In the red book he said, ‘We share our fate, we share our numbers, but we don’t share our chopsticks.‘ “
“So because of Mao, you give out your phone numbers?” I asked.
“Many people think it’s a misinterpretation. There were no telephones then. You could not share that number. You didn’t have one. But the numbers, in the sense of the great numbers of people, we were all expected to share ourselves.”
“But not your chopsticks?” I asked.
“Never. Mao believed in health. That’s why you don’t pry into somebody’s health. And chopsticks were almost always wooden. Very unhealthy.
Mufi called me over. He wanted me to taste his water buffalo with bamboo shoots and curried kumquat sauce. I swooned. We made a date for dinner. And then to see a Charlie Chan movie.

I went home. On the C train I blocked all the numbers to whom I’d given out mine. I’d rather share a chopstick.

[embedyt]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4t5GdrIag_I[/embedyt]

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By MARQUEL: The Phone Number Keeper

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