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stiff and golden in the sunlight. From above the tops of stalks, I can see the
backs of men and women stooped over, planting. Their heads come up for a
quick moment when they walk forward, only to stoop again.
We pass up other men and women walking alongsi.de the roads with
bamboo poles shouldered behind their necks. Hanging at each end is a basket
filled with eggs, freshly picked mangoes, spike-skinned lychees, bunches of
bok-choy, water cress, eels, squids, and catfish. We leave trails of dust, which
veil the people we pass, but they keep walking with heads up, hands gripping
each end of the bamboo shoots for balance.
The motorized rickshaw pulls into a small village of bungalows and
two story villas with porches. Ba Nguyen gets out first and helps Mother out.
He reaches for my hand, but I am already climbing out on the other side. The
rickshaw drives around in a circle and heads back in the direction of the rice
fields.
Ba Nguyen and Mother climb up the wooden steps and enter a home
whose double French doors are already opened.
"But what about Dad?" I ask as I follow right behind them.
Mother turns around, and her lips quiver.
"But, we're home."
The comers tum up again, and her eyes widen. She turns away from
me and walks farther inside the house.
It is the afternoon, siesta time, and for someone who is bent, broken,
and scarred, Ba Nguyen walks well ahead of me. His hands part the branches,
clear away the vines from his face. Although the mai trees are ablaze with
yellow flowers, the jungle is dark the farther we walk. In a small clearing a
hammock stretches between two tall banyan trees. Ba Nguyen climbs inside. It
is big enough for both of us. He helps me inside, and the hammock sways from
my effort.
"Remember this?" he smiles as he settles back into the meshing. "I
used to take you here for a siesta. Remember?"
the distance."
I lie next to him.
"Yes, I remember."
Ba Nguyen bridges his hands behind his head and sighs.
"Some afternoons you were awakened by the sound of bombings in
Just then there is a rumbling far off in the distance like pent up anger.
The hammock still swings and I cannot tell if the Earth is moving.
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