Hector and the Tibetan Coins

Hector wanted a hobby, but it had to be an unusual one. He knew people who knitted, crocheted, painted, coached football, collected comic books, and played complicated card games. He wanted a hobby that no one else, or at least that few people had.  

One day he revealed his goal to his brother Horace. "Horace, I'm looking for a hobby, but it has to be an unusual one."

"Why so? Wouldn't you like to be able to share your hobby with other people? What if you decided to collect, say, Tibetan coins, and then you discover that you have to go to Tibet to buy them or sell them or find people who are interested in your hobby? Sounds dumb to me."

"Well, I'll have to think about it. I'll let you know what I decide."

And what he decided was to collect Tibetan coins. Hector went online and discovered the beauty of Tibetan coins. He could buy them on various sites for various prices, and soon he had quite a collection of coins, intricately designed pieces of copper and silver and even gold.

One day his brother Horace called Hector. "So did you find a hobby?"

"Yes, yes I did."

"So what are you collecting, bottle caps?"

"No, Tibetan coins. You're the one who suggested that as a hobby."

"You're serious?"

"Absolutely."

"So did you find some Tibetan coins lying on the sidewalk?"

"No, I bought them online. Fairly expensive, but really beautiful."

"You ought to find some Tibetan friends." Horace seemed to think that was rather funny.

"Is that funny? No, not funny. I think it's a great idea."

And so Hector proceeded to look for Tibetan friends. He checked the internet and discovered that there were about 9000 Tibetan-Americans. Not many in a country of over 300 million people. His calculator determined that about .003 percent of Americans were of Tibetan ancestry.

Would he be condemned to a lonely existence with his beautiful Tibetan coins and unable to find people who could tell him more about Tibet and its coins and its people?  

Then he had an idea. He checked the internet to see if there were any online groups of Tibetan Americans. He didn't see any, so he decided to create his own website. He called it Tibetan Friends and gave himself the name of Yeshi, which, he learned, means "wisdom" in Tibetan. On his new site he placed photos and drawings of Tibetan coins and Tibetan scenes. He invited his fellow Tibetans to join him in discussions of Tibetan customs and history and language. On one part of his website, Hector placed a map of Tibet, with an X to mark the spot whence his own ancestors had supposedly emigrated.

Before long, Yeshi (formerly known as Hector) began to get inquiries from Tibetan-Americans from coast to coast. By May 1, only a month after his site's debut, there were 99 members of the group. Some of them posted photos of themselves, but Hector did not, because he was not Tibetan. A few of his new internet friends began to chide him.

"Yeshi, show us what you look like. Are you ashamed of your appearance?"

Yeshi had to think carefully about his response. "No, the truth is that my family has been involved in some difficult political situations in Tibet, so I cannot show my face on this website. In fact, Yeshi is not my real name." At least part of his response was true, he thought.

Some of Hector's new friends also collected Tibetan coins, and soon they were buying and selling and exchanging coins with him. To protect his anonymity, Hector rented a post office box using the name of his website, Tibetan Friends. Of course, he had to include the name of his hometown, Ashleyville, Ohio.

Everything was humming along. Hector devoted his spare time to his coin collection and to reading about the sad history of Tibet. Yes, most countries had sad histories, it seemed, but the Tibetans had suffered so much more than many other peoples. He was feeling close to the Tibetans he read about in books, the ones who had designed and made his beautiful coins, and the ones he met on his website.

Then his dream exploded.. One day he went to the Ashleyville post office to check his mailbox. A small package was inside. As he turned around, he saw a man watching him.

"Yeshi, is that you?"

Hector stood there for a moment. What to do? The man repeated the question.

"Yes, who are you?"

"My name is also Yeshi, but I have a feeling that is not your name."

"My name is Hector. But what are you doing here? Are you spying on me?"

"Yes. Yes, I am. I sent you that package and used bright red paper. I knew the time you normally arrive at the post office, and I knew when the package would arrive, containing another beautiful Tibetan coin."

"Oh." Hector didn't know what to say.

"Hector, I can explain better over a cup of tea. Is there a place where we can sit down and have something to eat?"

"Yes. Just around the corner."

They walked out of the post office, down the street, and around the corner to a small cafe. The two men said nothing to each other until they were seated in a booth by a window.

Hector began. "Were you really spying on me? How could that happen? I don't understand."

"I was a detective with the Paisleyville police force until I retired. Something about your website didn't quite click. You didn't sound like a Tibetan."

"I tried. I tried to make the website pleasant and informative. I tried to sound like a Tibetan. Where did I go wrong?"

"Well, there was no personal information, you know, the little touches that a real Tibetan might add about food or family or places that are not easily found on the internet."

The server came with their tea and scones. Hector took a sip of tea.

"Were you born in Tibet, Yeshi?"

"No, but my parents were. Because there are so few of us living in the United States, we try to keep in touch. As you know, there are roughly 9,000 Tibetan-Americans. Yes, 9000 sounds like a big number, but it isn't. If we all lived in one place, we could comprise a small town, like Ashleyville or Paisleyville, where I live. And another thing, we have various fraternal organizations, the way immigrants tend to do. You never mentioned any of those groups."

"My grandparents came from Sweden. They used to talk about the clubs they belonged to, clubs for Swedes to keep in touch."

"Yes, and to help each other out as needed."

Hector took a big bite of his scone. "Are you going to turn me in?"

Yeshi scowled, then broke into a grin. "I don't think you've done any harm. The police have other, more serious things to worry about. But tell me, why did you decide on a Tibetan website? Why not some other country?"

"Because I started collecting Tibetan coins. I was looking for a hobby, an unusual hobby, and my brother threw out the suggestion that I could collect coins from Tibet. I think he was joking. He was trying to think of something bizarre, I guess. Bizarre to his way of thinking, but not to mine."

"Well, Hector, you know it's quite a good website. But I can help you make it better."

"Thanks. What do you suggest?"

"News about the main Tibetan fraternal organizations. Recipes. Places for people to comment."

"Maybe you should take it over. You know so much more about Tibet, or at least you seem to. And your name really is Yeshi."

"But I'm not too great at maintaining a website."

Hector was feeling sad and guilty. "Well, I guess I could still maintain it, and you could send me more stuff to put online. That would be fine. But I'd like to continue to put some of my own comments on the site. Could I still be Yeshi?"

The detective looked out the window, then back at Hector. "I've been interested for some time in meeting other Tibetan-Americans. I was thinking of one big picnic this summer in central Ohio. Another idea would be to have picnics in different parts of the country. What do you think of those ideas?"

"Sounds good. But I guess I couldn't go."

'Why not?"

"Because my name isn't Yeshi, and I am not Tibetan. I'm a fraud."

The real Yeshi laughed. "Well, you probably wouldn't be the only non-Tibetan at the picnic. People do marry outside of their group, you know."

"But I would still be a fraud."

"No, you wouldn't, not if you confessed to your impersonation of a Tibetan. Do it on the website. And talk about how much you admire Tibetan coins and Tibetan scenery and the Tibetan people. Everyone will be on your side. Look, no one in America pays that much attention to Tibetans. Maybe Asian-Americans might notice, but the rest, not so much. Most Americans probably lump us all together and think everyone's Chinese. But you, you've noticed us. You've made us feel good about our heritage through your website. Once you reveal who you are and put your photo on the site, I think they'll come around. Look, I'll even give you a Tibetan hat that you can wear for your official website photo."

"Are you sure this will work, Yeshi?"

"Yes, Hector. What choice do you have, really? You can't go on with this subterfuge. I will reveal your secret, if you don't. So come clean, and see what happens."

"You're right. Can we do this now? Can you help me with my confession?"

"Absolutely. I even have a Tibetan hat in my car, so we can take care of the photo as well."

Hector later concluded that sometimes when you do something wrong, it comes out right in the end, so in the end it's good that you did the wrong thing in the beginning.  

He was not sure his grandmother would have agreed.

By Anita G. Gorman

From: United States

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