Tales from the Trails - Trio 10, 126 PM
In Port Williams, Mikaelo talks with a homebound college student, an outside admirer, and an enthusiastic voter registration advocate.
PORT WILLIAMS, N.H. – TRIO 10, 126 PM
In Little Irikyo, the first warm weekend of Trio is buzzing with life. The calm sea breeze gently shifts the branches of the imported ginkgo trees, and birds flutter among the cautiously budding leaves. Neighbors greet neighbors at the pop-up farmers market in Harry Sakai Square, sharing stories and jokes over plates of street food and hot buns.
For more information on Port Williams’ Ylrikian Uniguitan community, read this piece about the city’s Ylrikian and Crescent Islander diaspora’s response to the upcoming Crescent Islands’ referendum on independence.
As the largest hub of Ylrikian Uniguitans in the Federation, the district exhibits an explosive combination of Western and Eastern culture. Rather than using the more expensive and difficult-to-find octopus typical of Ylrikian cuisine, Sakai Square yakisoba incorporates more local ingredients like Ferrian crab meat, or Port Williams’ world-famous mussels. Vendors sell Ylrikian-language versions of Fosterian religious texts, and a group of bubbly volunteers from the Ylrikian Uniguitan Civil Rights Association (YUCRA) implore market visitors to vote.
Below are some of the conversations I had while at the Little Irikyo market.
Kate is a 23-year-old pharmacy student who grew up in Little Irikyo. She’s with her boyfriend, Lewis, who she’s introducing to her family this weekend. Lewis is from a rural area in Plains, and is clearly still getting his bearings in this much more diverse and high-energy urban neighborhood.
“He’s cute, isn’t he?” she says, pointing over to the lanky, bespectacled man gawking at the kintsugi1 bowls on display at a stall. “He’s kind of a dork, but I love him. My parents are super traditional, but they love him too. Or at least, they love the fact that he’s becoming a doctor.”
The child of refugees who came to Uniguita in the early 90s, Kate tells me that her parents had mixed feelings when she got into the elite University of Nova Espero.
“They were ecstatic that I got into UNE, it’s every immigrant parent’s dream for their kid to get into UNE,” she tells me. “But my dad was heartbroken that his little girl was going to be hours down the coast. ‘It’s so far away,’ he’d say. ‘And what if there aren’t any Ylrikian boys there,’” she says with a laugh. “Whoops.”
Lewis comes over and introduces himself in a twang that’d betray his Fertile Center roots if Kate hadn’t already told me where he’s from.
“Everything’s really… loud here,” he says. This elicits a giggle from Kate, very much amused at the fish so clearly out of water. “But it’s honestly been a lot of fun! I love this… um, uh,” he says as he fumbles with a bottle filled with a deep-red liquid.
“Sakura Pop!” Kate exclaims. “I’m so glad he likes it, it’s honestly a green flag for me. So many people from outside of here don’t like it very much.”
The couple continues onward, waving goodbye as they duck into a line of nearby shops.
Benjamin is a lifelong Port Williams resident and employee of Rensselaer Shipbuilding, which has a massive shipyard around a mile away. Though he’s from a predominantly Western neighborhood on the city’s south side, he says he likes the “energy” of Little Irikyo, especially on market days.
“Our neighborhood can just be too quiet sometimes,” he tells me while sitting on a bench near the center of the action. “It’s nice when you’re trying to go to sleep, or just want a quiet walk to yourself, but sometimes it just feels a little… I don’t know, cold?”
“It feels a lot warmer here,” says Benjamin as he lights up a cigarette.
As we’re talking, a number of vendors and neighborhood residents wave hello to Benjamin. He tells me to stay put while he catches up with a man pushing a cart overflowing with bouquets of daffodils, poppies, and imported roses.
“Sorry about that,” he apologizes. “I hadn’t seen Danny in about a year. I was starting to get worried about him!”
The air is filled with the buzz of a thousand conversations, the laughter of children running around, and the splattering of fryer oil. The thrum is intermittently pierced by the honking of a nearby jitney, the ringing of a bike bell, or the chirping of the returning migratory birds.
“I’d move up here, but my wife would throw a fit. She thinks it’s too noisy,” Benjamin laments. “Oh well. She’s worth the train trip,” he says waving around a bright red rose he purchased from Danny.
“Hello sir! Are you registered to vote?” is how 57-year-old Esther greets me at the YUCRA table. Even after I tell her that I’m registered in Nova Espero, she shows no urgency in moving me along. Compared to the rest of the market, the spot around the YUCRA table is relatively quiet. When I tell her that I work for the Universalo, she seems excited.
“Maybe folks will hear my message. Too many people in Uniguita aren’t registered to vote. They don’t even seem to care about politics,” she complains. In fact, Port Williams has particularly low rates of political participation – in the 124 PM general election, only around 49% of the city’s registered voters cast a ballot, compared to 57% nationwide.
“I grew up in Ylrikia, and left when I was 24… it’s different now, but when I was a kid you couldn’t really vote. Well, you could, but there was only one party so it wasn’t really an election,” Esther explains. “People here take it for granted sometimes, I think.”
Esther gets excited when her co-volunteer, Sophie, convinces a young man to register to vote. She thanks him for registering before turning back to me.
“I think people talk to her more because she’s a cute college girl,” Esther whispers to me with a laugh. “Whatever gets them to the polls I suppose!”
Kintsugi is the Ylrikian art form of using a golden lacquer to mend cracks in a broken ceramic cup or bowl.