Bamboo People (6 page)

“I’m okay,” I say, even though it’s still hard to breathe. I glance around. The sergeant is headed

for the river, and the other recruits are following him. Slowly I get up and offer my hand to Tai.

“Thanks.” Tai lets me haul him to his feet.

I don’t meet his eye.
For what?
I want to ask.
For standing there while that thug almost killed you?

“What were you saying to the driver?” he whispers. “You did a great job of distracting him. For a second I thought you didn’t see me climbing into the back.”

I didn’t. I focus on his first question. “Weren’t you listening last night? I sent a letter to Mother asking her to take care of your sister. The driver will bring an answer when he returns.”

“You did that? For me?” Tai tries to smile, but he’s still clutching his side and his breath is ragged. “I won’t forget that, Chiko. Where are your glasses?”

“I’ve got them. He crushed one lens, but I can still see out of the other. He told me not to wear them, though.”

Tai reaches out and clasps my hand as we head to the river, where the other recruits are gathering. It’s a strange sensation. This is how men walk with a good friend, a best friend: hand in hand. A first for me.

When we reach the boys in our section, a few murmur greetings and ask if we’re okay.

“I’m fine,” Tai assures them.

I’m not,
I want to say. My skull feels like it’s shattered, and my ribs are bruised. But Tai’s beating was much worse than mine. “I’m all right.”

U-Tha-Din begins to describe our task for the day. “We have to gather stones from the middle of the river and bring them to the construction site. The farmer across the river wants us to arrange the rest of the stones so the current runs into his irrigation channels with more force. In return, he is going to provide us with eggs and milk every day.”

The whole section cheers. Eggs and milk are a luxury, even in the city. Everybody starts working hard. As we lift stones from the river and lug them across the field, I keep an eye on Tai to see if he needs help. But he’s made of tougher fiber than I am. By the afternoon he’s outrunning me again, carrying big rocks, gaining energy by the minute. His sandaled feet are bleeding, but even that doesn’t seem to slow him down.

I’m a different story. Sweat plasters my shirt against my skin, and my knees and back are so stiff it feels like they can’t bend again. But they do; I make them. Everything close is blurry, so I’m even more clumsy than usual. My hands get cut and my forearms scraped as I grip the rocks, but I keep going. If Tai can recover after a beating like that, I can’t give up.

The other boys are almost as tired as we are, but we all keep going. By the time the sun sets, stones are piled high where the latrines will be built. The river pours water cleanly and quickly into the farmer’s irrigation channels.

“At ease,” orders U-Tha-Din finally, and we slump to the ground, groaning. “Tomorrow we’ll start construction. The work will be a bit easier.”

The captain comes out from the barracks to inspect our work. He calls the sergeant over, and they speak in low voices. Then he walks to his jeep and climbs in.

I breathe a bit easier; maybe he’s leaving camp for good. But U-Tha-Din beckons to Tai and me. His expression is annoyed. “Tough luck, boys,” he says. “The captain wants to talk to you.”

Tai and I make our way to the jeep while the others stumble to the gym. I swallow my fear as we approach the silent figure in the driver’s seat. Tai moves forward to stand right beside the jeep. I feel a twinge of envy—what would it be like to feel so brave at a time like this?

“Did you think you’d get away with only a beating?” the captain asks Tai.

“No, sir,” Tai answers.

“You’re right. If you’re to serve Burma, you must learn the meaning of obedience. There’s always a few like you in every group. Come closer, Teacher.”

I step forward, my eyes on the ground.

“What’s the matter? You crying?”

I don’t answer. Both my cheeks are tender to the touch from the smacks and kicks I received earlier.

He spits on the ground at my feet. “Do you hear me? Answer when I ask you a question.”

“Ye-e-es, sir,” I manage.

“The sergeant said you have some work for us, Captain,” Tai says quickly.

“I do. Once everyone else in the camp is asleep, the two of you are to move that pile of stones back into the river. Right where they were before. Complete the job before morning. Without a word to anyone. Understand?”

I look up. Am I hearing right? I must be, because Tai looks as astounded as I am.

“But, sir,” he says. “Ten recruits spent the whole day clearing the river. How can the two of us put the stones back before morning? And don’t we need them to build the latrines?”

“Put those stones back. There’s a small cell in our barracks for recruits who don’t obey. The ceiling’s so low you can’t stand. If I hear that you didn’t do the job, you’ll each spend a week in there. Alone.”

He turns on the engine and roars off into the night, leaving us staring hopelessly at each other. How can the two of us reverse a task that’s taken so many an entire day to accomplish? And even if we manage to lug back all the stones, U-Tha-Din and the other recruits will be furious. And what will the farmer say? He asked us to complete the job by tomorrow. The whole camp will lose the promise of milk and eggs.

The captain’s elite soldiers have lit a bonfire near the gym. “Have fun, boys,” one calls as we walk off into the twilight. “Captain told us about your assignment. Don’t go anywhere, now—it might be fun to hear the leopards enjoying a midnight snack.”

They laugh as we head over to the pile of stones looming like a mountain in the darkness. I take a deep breath and stoop to pick up a stone. Might as well tackle the biggest ones while I still have energy from dinner. Before I collapse.

Tai is gazing off into the distance. “Hmmm,” he says. I straighten and follow his line of vision. He’s focused on a flickering light in the farmhouse window across the river. “You rest, Chiko,” he tells me. “I’ll be back soon.”

“We have to get started, Tai. Where are you going? Didn’t you hear what those guards said about leopards prowling out there?”

“I won’t go into the jungle.”

I shake my head. “Do you want another beating? You barely survived the last one.”

Tai shrugs. “Half of that was acting. I’m an expert at beatings—I told you I’d teach you how. Don’t worry. There’s always an easier way.”

He’s gone, sprinting to the riverbank as if his bruised feet are starting their day. The darkness swallows him as he splashes away, and I’m alone. I turn back to the pile of rocks. How are we ever going to get this job done? Every bone and muscle in my body is aching.
Maybe I should rest for a few minutes,
I think. I can’t help myself—I lean against the pile and close my eyes.

A rustling creak and a loud splash bring me to my feet with a start. I’ve been asleep, but for how long? Then I see it—a dark shape, growing as it approaches. What is that … that
thing?
Some animal from the jungle? Is this how I’m going to die?
Do something, you idiot! Call for help!

But before I can cry out, Tai’s voice comes through the darkness. “Chiko! It’s me! Say hello to Yan and Gon.”

I peer into the darkness, but I still can’t make out exactly what’s coming toward me. Why is Tai’s voice coming from such a height? “What—?”

“I’ve got the farmer’s two buffalo.”

“How’d you manage that?” I ask, trying to register that the bulky monster is actually two large, docile water buffalo pulling a cart.

“I told him we needed them to complete his job by tomorrow. He grumbled a bit, but he agreed.” Tai’s teeth flash in the moonlight as he jumps off the cart.

We use the animals to pull the rocks across the field, but we still have to pile them into the cart. Each rock becomes harder and harder to lift, and Tai leaves again to scavenge in the construction site. “Go check on those guards,” he tells me.

I tiptoe back until I see the silhouettes of the soldiers. They’re flat on the ground, and I hear them snoring.

Tai has found a long plank. Resting it against the cart like a ramp, we roll and slide the biggest boulders along its length. The buffalo make short work of the distance across the field, and after only three trips, the job’s done. The two of us—using the sturdy creatures, a plank, and the cart—have moved the stones back to the river in just a couple of hours.

After Tai returns the cart and buffalo to the farmer, we creep past the sleeping guards into the gym, change into our
longyi,
and slide under our blankets.

“What time is it?” I whisper.

“About midnight, I think.”

“What will we tell U-Tha-Din in the morning?”

“Trust me,” Tai murmurs sleepily.

I stay awake for a while, too tired to fall asleep. Beside me Tai snores lightly, and I remember back to when I first saw him.
Uneducated boy,
I thought then.
Who does that kid think he is?

Tonight all the book learning in the world couldn’t have helped me finish that impossible job on my own. Daw Widow was right. I do have a lot to learn.

A shout wakes us before the roosters begin crowing. “Everybody out!
Now!”

We scramble into our uniforms and head outside. In the distance U-Tha-Din is pacing back and forth by the river. As we hurry to join him, the rest of our section starts to realize what has happened. The captain’s soldiers are snickering at the sight of the rocks back in the river.

The sergeant glares at Tai and me. “Well?” he asks.

Tai and I exchange glances.
Speak up!
I tell myself, but I can’t think of anything to say.

“The captain ordered Chiko and me to move the rocks back,” Tai says. “So we did.”

“What? Why?”

I flinch as the other recruits aim scowls and spit insults in our direction.

“Punishment,” Tai says. “For trying to escape.”

“Well, this is wonderful!” U-Tha-Din says sarcastically, beginning to pace again. His stocky figure reminds me of a caged boar I saw once in the zoo. “The captain is returning with a major later today. He told me that we have to dig out and haul
another
pile of rocks from the river this morning. Another pile as large as the one we
thought
we’d already moved. If we don’t get both done in time, I’m finished. In fact, I’m finished now.”

U-Tha-Din seems to have forgotten that he’s an officer addressing a group of new recruits. Tai actually grins. I can’t believe it. “Don’t worry,” he says. “Chiko and I have a plan.”

U-Tha-Din stops pacing. “A plan? What plan? Come here, boy.”

Tai talks to him in a low voice, and soon the sergeant is squinting across the river to the farm. When Tai is done explaining, U-Tha-Din claps Tai on the back. “It just might work!” the older man booms. “Go on, boy!”

It does work. With the cart, buffalo, and the same long plank, our section finishes the task before noon. Now two huge piles of stones mark the construction site. The freed river pours smoothly downstream into the farmer’s irrigation channels. When Tai returns the buffalo, the farmer is so delighted he sends along two dozen eggs, milk, and a pail of sugarcane juice.

“You’ve earned this, boys,” U-Tha-Din tells us, beaming. “Nice work.”

The other recruits cheer and clap Tai and me on the back. Sinking into the grass, we bask in the sunshine and share the sugarcane juice. Under the cooking tarp, the soldiers on kitchen duty start frying rice with egg.

“You did it!” I say to Tai, sipping the sweet juice slowly to make it last.

He doesn’t seem happy, though. Instead he has a distant look in his eyes.

“Are you worried about what the captain will do when he finds out?” I ask.

“I don’t really care,” Tai mutters, banging his empty cup against the ground. “I need to get out of here. I asked the farmer for advice, but he has no transport either. Besides, he’s scared of the captain, just like everybody else.”

How can he still be thinking of escaping after what happened yesterday? “Maybe that truck driver made it back to Yangon,” I say. “My mother has her letter by now if he did. Maybe she’s trying to find Sawati.”

Tai doesn’t answer, but he smiles. I offer him some of my share of rice and egg, and he shakes his head. “You’ll need your strength,” he says. “Especially when Captain Evil comes back later to check on us.”

While U-Tha-Din naps in the shade, the captain’s soldiers organize our afternoon training. Win Min, irritated that we’ve somehow managed to outfox his “father,” takes special pains to make us work hard. He’s rigged an obstacle course and runs us through it six times. We do push-ups and chin-ups until my arms burn like two sticks on fire. After tea break it’s time for kickboxing.

I’ve avoided being called forward for any matches up to now, but those guards have their eye on me, especially Win Min. Tai must realize the same thing. During the break, he takes me aside. “When one of them throws a kick at you, try to fling your head back hard before the kick lands and yell. Then fall to the ground before the full weight of the foot can ram into you. Once you’re down, the match will be over. No harm in everybody thinking you’re weak; it’s better than being in pain, isn’t it? Or dead?”

“I suppose,” I say doubtfully.

“Let’s try it,” he insists. “We have a few minutes.”

We slip behind a tree and act through his suggestion in slow motion, with me recoiling as soon as Tai’s foot comes near my face. We only have time for two practice sessions, but I’m glad we manage even that, because Win Min calls my name first. Thankfully, Bindu volunteers to be my rival. The word among the recruits is that he doesn’t kick very high or very hard.

The match begins. Concentrating hard, I hold my breath as Bindu’s foot lands on my stomach. The others were right; he doesn’t kick hard at all. I try to follow Tai’s instructions as best I can. Before I know what’s happened, I’m on the ground with Bindu grinning over me. He’s won, of course, but I’m not in any more pain than I was when we started.