From: hylam@soda.berkeley.edu (HTL)
Newsgroups: soc.culture.vietnamese
Subject: [VN-Story] BackHome (Part 4)
Date: 20 Nov 1992 19:08:59 GMT
Organization: U.C. Berkeley, CS Undergraduate Association
Distribution: world
NNTP-Posting-Host: soda.berkeley.edu

This part and the rest(?) will appear in HORIZONS, Winter 1993.
Thanks to Huy Thanh Cao for editing my story.

			BACKHOME
			(Part 4)

That night there was electricity. Around six o'clock I rinsed 
myself with clean rain water, and then put on my shorts and T-shirt. I 
went to my bed to clean up the mess but found out that my mother 
had already rearranged the reed mat and folded my clothes neatly 
for me.

Something on the bed sharply caught my attention. It was a 
pack of Marlboro cigarettes. I bought a ten-pack and now there was 
only one left. Somebody had taken my cigarettes. The gum and candy 
pieces were gone too. I checked to see if any valuables were 
missing, but everything else was okay. During the day, there were 
people going into and out of the house, so there was no way to 
know for sure who took my things. There were my nieces and nephews 
and the neighborhood kids running through my house all the time. 
They probably thought I would not know if one pack of cigarettes 
or a piece of candy or gum was missing. But I could tell when 
there was only one pack of cigarettes left and all the candies and 
gums disappeared. Although I don't smoke, I thought it would be 
nice to offer my friends an American cigarette. I also intended to 
give the candies to the kids, but now there was nothing to give, 
so I let the matter pass quietly. Athough I was fond of the
kids and was not feeling angry toward them, I moved my luggage 
into my bother's bedroom where it would be safer.

At about seven that night, my father and I visited my aunt, 
who had become ill upon hearing that her son died in Germany five 
years ago. I walked quietly behind him. During the winter it got 
dark very early. Although there was electricity tonight, the town 
was still dark and I could hardly see the ground under my feet. 
There were electric-wire poles but none of them had a light bulb. 
Not everyone in the town could afford electricity, and in fact, 
most people still used tiny oil lamps.

There were some coffee shops and people were selling
snacks. It took about five minutes for us to reach the highway 
and another five minutes to reach my aunt's house just off the 
highway. I was amazed to see so many young men and teenagers 
hanging around coffee shops along this highway. During the day 
they went to the fields or out of town to work. At night they 
returned home with nothing better to do than entertain themselves 
with wine and coffee and smoke while chatting.

As I passed a group of teenagers drinking wine, one smiled 
and waved to me while pointing at the food and wine. I smiled and 
signaled to them with my finger pointing at my father, meaning 
that I wanted to join them but instead had to go with my father. 
He looked a little embarrassed because of my refusal, and I think 
I hurt his feelings and dignity.  He looked familiar but I forgot
his name.

I arrived at my aunt's house and talked to her and my cousins 
for a while. I offered some money to help them buy food and 
medicine. Around eight o'clock I got home and saw that my nieces, 
nephews, and the neighborhood kids were sitting in rows on the 
floor watching television. Some of the boys were wearing nothing 
but shorts, exposing their bare skinny sunburnt bodies. I joined 
them and sat on the last row in a corner.

They were watching an American movie translated into Vietnamese.
The theme of the movie was about slavery in America.

While watching the movie, I stirred more than anybody 
else. I could not stay still more than a few minutes because I was 
busy fighting off those tiny, blood-hungry, possibly deadly 
mosquitoes; they were everywhere. I killed some of them by 
clapping my palms in the air. Whenever I felt a sharp pain, my 
hand automatically slapped right onto the spot, crushing the 
mosquito before it had the chance to get away. There were some 
tiny smears of blood on my palms. I fought a restless battle 
against these mosquitoes, but they bit me half a dozen times on my 
legs, hands, and neck. The only way I could avoid being bitten was 
to keep caressing my hands, legs, and neck constantly. Once in a 
while a kid glanced at me and smiled quietly because I could not 
tolerate these mosquito bites like they could. I wondered how they 
could sit still, unconsciously ignoring the deadly bites of these 
mosquitoes which undoubtedly were harmful to their health.

Finally the movie ended around ten and the kids went home. I 
was so exhausted but nevertheless could not sleep. It was so quiet 
around here at night. Because there was nothing much nightlife in 
the countryside, people went to bed early so they could wake up 
early. My father was falling asleep on the folding bed, wearing 
only shorts and T-shirt and exposing his hands and legs to the 
mosquitoes. My mother kept on walking around restlessly, making 
sure I went to bed first. Looking at the way she coughed while 
walking shakily back and forth, I felt really tired for her 
myself. Although she was nine years younger than my father, the 
years of worriedness, exhaustion, and illness had left their marks 
on her.

"Mom, please go to bed. I am not a kid any longer and I know 
what to do." I grumbled, "You go to bed and I'll lit up the oil 
lamp and turn off the light."

She looked at me for a split of a second, perhaps 
feeling hurt, and quietly and slowly climbed up her bed. Suddenly 
I felt a pang in my heart. I wanted to say sorry, but no words 
came out.

Suddenly I felt a little dizzy and cold.  I took out two 
Tylenol pills and went to the kitchen to prepare some warm water
in the teapot.

My mother sat up but still stayed in the net and asked, "Hy, 
can't sleep, huh?"

"Oh, I just want to drink some water," I smiled and replied. 
My father stirred on his folding-bed, still sleeping.

"Is there any more water?" she asked.

"Yes."

"It's very late already. Try to get some sleep."

"Yes."

After taking the pills and drinking lots of warm water I felt 
much better. I lit up another oil lamp and carried it to my bed. 
Pulling out a small notebook from my hand-bag, I read over the 
notes to remind me of what I needed to do first. The last few 
lines said:

*        Give money to your brothers and sisters.
*        Give more money to your parents since they do not work.
*        Give some to your aunts and uncles.
*        Keep some for your miscellaneous expenses.
*        Places to visit:  take your nieces and nephews to 
         Saigon, Can Tho, Vung Tau...

After giving money to my family and relatives, I thought, I would 
still have U.S. $600 left to use. The idea of site-seeing no longer 
seemed as attractive. I began to find life in the countryside more 
interesting and fun. There were vast paddy fields, trees, rivers, 
and those kids who made me laugh inside out. I folded the notebook 
and tucked it away, under the reed mat.

A few drops of rain began to fall onto the tin roof. Small gusts of
of wind began to blow and howl through the crack of the window.  I
felt a chill creepping along the back of my neck and my shoulders
shook a little.  I crawled into the net and looked around 
carefully: There were two big fat mosquitoes in my net, one flying 
and the other resting on the inner side of the net. I smacked one and 
got the other soon after with my palms. How disgusting it was to 
see my palms smeared with two tiny spots of blood!

"Darn, you mosquitoes. Whose blood have you greedily stolen?" 
I cursed angrily.  It could have belonged to the kids or mine.

Decided to get out of bed, I laid down flat and lifted 
the net just low enough to roll myself out of the net so no 
mosquito could sneak in from outside. I tiptoed noiselessly to the 
back of the house, passing my father who was still sleeping 
outside on the folding bed. I stared right into his face in the 
dim light of the oil lamp's flickering fire. It struck me then how 
very quickly he had aged. Suddenly he opened his eyes, looked at 
me and smiled, but said nothing.

"Oh, I, I am going to brush my teeth," I said, just low 
enough not to disturb my mother, although I knew she was still 
awake.

Now it was around midnight. While brushing my teeth, my eyes were
shut, my ears were open, and my mind was concentrated
on the silence and darkness of the night. I tilted my 
head and held my breath trying to listen to the sound of water 
running downstream. Then I heard the sharp creaking sound of 
someone sculling a boat: e et, e et, e et,...

"Who's that?" a woman's void echoed into the night. She 
anchored her boat in the back of my house.

"Me. Is that you Mrs. Ba~y?" replied the man.

"Oh, Mr. Nam, going home so soon, huh?"

"It's going to rain."

"Yeah, I afraid so. Got any fish?"

"No. I go again later once the rain stops."

Their conversation was so loud that it woke up her baby. The 
baby cried, "Ah, ah, ah,..."

"Sleep my son. Tomorrow Mr. Nam catch you a big fish.  That big."

"Ah, ah, ah,..."

"A^`u o+ di' da^`u ca^`u da'n -do^'ng -dinh ca^`u che la('c 
le~o co^.t -di`nh kho' -di..." the woman sang softly, trying to 
lull the baby into sleep.

While I was busy listening to the woman singing I forgot 
about the mosquitoes and got a few more bites. I finished brushing 
my teeth, walked back to bed, blew off the oil lamp's light, laid 
flat on the edge of the bed outside the net, shook the net 
lightly, lifted it up a little, and rolled in. The baby was still 
crying, "Ah, ah, ah,..."

It was past midnight but I was still wide awake. My headache 
came back. I lied on my back in the dark but couldn't shift my 
body into a comfortable position because the bamboo bed was so 
hard. It began to rain very hard. Water kept on pouring, streams 
upon streams onto the tin roof. Fifteen minutes later it stopped 
raining.  The wind calmed down and the silence of the night came back.
I stared into the dark and somehow felt sadness crept in again.
It was a mix feeling. I felt happy and yet sad.  I felt at home and
yet far away. The baby stopped crying; perhaps the rain lulled him 
to sleep. Closing my eyes I listened tentatively to the sounds of 
frogs and bullfrogs, insects and crickets, calling into the
tranquility of the night. I wondered if they were singing, laughing, 
or crying. Eventually I fell asleep.  I wished I never woke up again.

(To be continued...)


Newsgroups: soc.culture.vietnamese