|
Only One Word
By
Dau Viet Hung
There were many things he
disliked about the old man, but even so, Ty liked and
respected him more than anyone else.
Sometimes Ty observed him very closely, trying to find
out where his Mr Sau did dwell in this short, wiry old
man with his tanned skin, flat face, and kind eyes that
were mostly warm but could also turn icy and severe. Was
it possible that there were two of them in a single
body?
Ty was already fifteen years old, but Mr Sau still
thought of him as a little boy who badly needed care
from grown-ups. He could not utter a single swear word
without being strongly scolded by the old man. "How
can you learn bad things so fast?" Another one of
his constant reminders that never failed to anger Ty
was, "You must study hard, my child."
***
At the
liaison station Mr Sau was neither the head nor the
deputy head. Nor was he a liaison man. In fact he was
free lodger and did odd jobs for everybody like cooking,
boiling water and repairing bed planks. Off and on, when
there were not enough liaison officers at the station,
he was entrusted with some minor jobs like sending away
letters or documents or leading some guerrillas to
another station. And yet, Mr Sau seemed to be somebody.
"Ty, you must say ‘hello’ or ‘good-bye’ when you come
in or go out. You just leave without our notice or go
home without saying anything; that’s impolite. You must
know how to behave yourself." There were many times
Ty thought of leaving the station, but stayed on because
he did not know where he’d go and what he’d do.
Ty’s father was a guerrilla who was killed during a
mopping up operation by the enemy. Ty was just seven
years old then. His mother married again soon after and
left him for ever. He was forced to live with his
paternal grandfather in the countryside. When he was 14,
he was hired to look after a landlord’s buffaloes. When
the freedom fighters attacked a blockhouse nearby and
ran it over, he and his friends collected a lot of war
trophies for them. On that occasion, he asked them to
recruit him. "You’re too young to join the army,"
the commander of the unit told him. "Just stay at
this liaison station and help our guerrillas for two
more years. I’ll come back and employ you." So here
he was.
***
He was
much more useful than Mr Sau at the station, he told
himself. He delivered urgent circulars and official
letters to their destinations very quickly. Before the
fighters launched an operation he scouted the terrain
first to make sure it was secure, then returned and led
them across it. Every task that was assigned to him, he
did well. When he was recommended, he usually glanced at
Mr Sau as if to say, "Look, I’m more important than
you." Nevertheless, Mr Tu Hau told him one day, "Ty,
I’ll entrust you to Mr Sau’s care. You must obey him all
the time. It’s a military order."
Mr Sau’s orders often sounded very strange. "Ty, try
to gather at least three bundles of firewood. That’s an
order;" or, "Fill up these two tanks with water.
They nearly ran out this evening." Or "Massage my
back. It hurts a lot." "Is that an order, Mr Sau?"
he once asked the old man. "Yes, it is. Do it
quickly." No matter what they were, real orders or
not, Ty obeyed them all and performed them well. In the
process, his interest in Mr Sau deepened. Sometimes,
from the bottom of his heart, he craved for something
from Mr Sau, but could not quite figure out what it was.
That Sau sympathised with and liked him was very evident
to Ty. But, on the other hand, he could understand that
the old man treated him so seriously as well. Each time
Ty fell ill, Mr Sau was so worried that he could not
sleep. Once, when he had a very high fever, Sau stayed
up all night, placing wet and cold towels on his
forehead. When Ty regained consciousness, the old man
shouted like a child, "Thank God, you are all right
now. Don’t go out in the rain anymore." Ty was moved
to tears. For a long, long time, except for his paternal
grandfather, nobody had shown such feelings towards him.
Time and again, he thought that he would like to have a
father like the old man with his simple teaching and
orders, "From now on, don’t do this, don’t do that."
He would be very happy to comply with such instructions.
But a few days later, when he had completely recovered
from his illness, Ty found Mr Sau a bit different. He
did not give him orders any more. Without jobs Ty felt
very annoyed. He wanted to hear his orders again. Any
orders would be welcome, even the one that he often
hated very much, "My child, get in and study."
***
From
his childhood up to now, Ty had never seen the inside of
a school. Now he had to spell syllable after syllable,
word after word, and it was very unpleasant. As soon as
he learnt a new word, he forgot the previous one. What
was more, once Mr Tu Hau told him to address Mr Sau as "Teacher."
"Could Old Sau be my master? Never," he told
himself, although he vaguely knew that Mr Sau had
previously been a village teacher. A howitzer shell had
landed in the middle of his house, leaving him the sole
survivor. Wandering about in his grief, he had stumbled
across this station. Over time, thanks to his efforts,
many people like Mr Tu Hau, Mr Chon Liem and Miss Thao
had learnt the three Rs. Now they were able to read
newspapers. Ty had not heard Mr Tu Hau address Mr Sau as
Teacher, but Mr Chon Liem and Miss Thao always addressed
him with great respect.
"If someone teaches you just one word, or even half a
word, you should address the person ‘Teacher,’" says
a Vietnamese proverb. But Ty was not convinced. Even if
Mr Sau taught him thousands of words, he would never
address him "Teacher." In his mind, a teacher had
to be a tall man with a leather satchel and polished
shoes that shone. Mr Sau was always bare-footed and
usually in black pyjamas with unkempt hair. How could he
be a teacher? So this instruction of Mr Tu Hau was one
that Ty ignored totally.
***
For a
week now, Ty had been in charge of keeping a lookout on
Highway 4 for any signs of enemy activity, so that he
could lead guerrillas across when the time came. It was
only a week, but he missed Mr Sau very much. The more he
missed the old man the more he felt guilty. Living among
the guerrillas, Ty had earned their high appreciation
because he was polite, considerate and obedient. "If
only I’d learned more carefully as Mr Sau had told me
to, I would have been further praised," Ty thought.
He resolved that when he got back to the station, he
would show his gratitude by studying hard.
As he returned to the liaison station after completing
his mission on Highway 4, Ty came upon Miss Thao purely
by chance. She’d been badly wounded by the enemy’s
artillery shells. She was unable to speak clearly
because her left cheek was injured. She gestured to him
weakly as if she wanted him to do something. He brought
her the handbag she usually carried. She took out of the
bag a pencil and a notebook, then wrote something on a
sheet, tore it and gave it to him. Hardly had he taken
it when she fainted.
Looking carefully at the short note, he could not
understand what she meant. He looked at her again and
found blood oozing out of her wound. He hastily bandaged
the wound and took her to a field hospital that had been
rigged up in the district. There he entrusted her to the
field physician. Suddenly, he remembered the letter. He
asked a nurse to read it for him. The note said, "Move
the station away at once. It’s been exposed. The enemy
is going to make a round up in our locality." He
felt the earth shake under his feet. One day had already
elapsed. From the hospital to the station, it would take
him at least one more day. It was too late! He did not
even say good-bye to the nurse as he rushed out.
When he reached the station, he could not believe what
he was seeing. The small tree trunks used as pillars for
the liaison tent were now smouldering. The belongings of
the people in the station had been torn up and lay
scattered here and there. Mr Tu Hau lay prone with one
arm bent inwards under his chest and the other stretched
forward as if he was trying to catch something. In the
kitchen, the tray Ty used to have meals with the liaison
officers lay tilted and food was spilled everywhere. On
the floor were many patches of dark-red blood. Swarms of
flies flew up when they were disturbed, then came down
again.
Ty felt bitterness rise in his throat. He walked to the
tray. He knelt down, shouting aloud, "Father! Father!"
His voice became weaker and weaker and was finally
drowned in the rustle of the forest leaves. So Mr Sau
had been taken away by the enemy.
Then he stared.
There was a trail of blood drops leading towards the
kitchen garden. He tracked it with growing dread. The
trail was getting fainter. Then he stopped abruptly. "The
death zone," he whispered. But there was no stopping
him now. He kept moving towards the bushes, ignoring the
branches that blocked his way until he reached an area
where fallen trees lay scattered. He walked past them
with difficulty and came upon the twisted bodies of a
reconnoitring squadron of eleven Sai Gon Army soldiers.
Mr Sau was among them, in his tattered black pyjamas.
His eyes were wide open, and there was no sign of
severity or kindness in them, but they reflected the
pride of having deceived the enemy into the death zone
(a heavily mined area). His lips were half open as if he
had smiled at Death. Ty knelt down and bowed to the old
man, then lifted his body and hugged it tightly. His
thin shoulders shook violently as he sobbed out aloud, "Teacher!
My Teacher!"
Translated by Van Minh |
Best websites
