Bamboo People

by Mitali Perkins

  14

  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.

  15

  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.

  During dinner, I grin as Tai imitates my groans and moans. “Sounded like somebody was killing a pig,” he says. “You sore?”

  “Definitely. But not as much as I might have been without your training. And if those buffalo hadn’t done our work, I’d probably be dead by now.”

  “Buffalo like to help each other,” Tai says, nudging me. I laugh; he’s pointing at U-Tha-Din, who’s chewing his rice absentmindedly, looking just like Yan and Gon.

  16

  As camp begins to close down for the night, I watch the road. Tai may not care, but I do. What will the captain say when he finds out what we’ve done? I’ve almost convinced myself that he isn’t going to show up when the jeep comes hurtling down the hill.

  The inside of my mouth tastes like I’ve swallowed sawdust instead of fried rice. One day at a time, I tell myself. Mind your own business. Stay out of trouble.

  Carrying kerosene lanterns, the soldiers run to open the doors of the jeep. The captain steps out,

  followed by his guest, a portly man with several ribbons on his uniform. We lower our heads to show respect.

  “U-Tha-Din,” barks the captain, after the bowing and saluting is over. “What kind of a leader are you? Why are the recruits not working? Have they cleared that river as the farmer requested? We must maintain good relations with that man. If not, the major will make sure somebody else is assigned to take over this camp.”

  U-Tha-Din grins broadly. “The work’s on schedule, sir! The farmer already sent his first payment in gratitude for our work.”

  “What?”

  Grabbing a lantern, the captain heads for the construction site. The major and U-Tha-Din stay behind, but everybody else follows the captain, with Tai at his heels and me at the rear of the procession.

  Moonlight sparkles on the river. The captain stops short when he catches sight of the rocks piled in two huge mounds, just as he ordered. He studies the irrigation channels in the farmer’s field. Then, in one swift motion, he turns and grabs Tai’s collar, yanking him close. He’s so angry, he’s forgotten to keep up his fatherly façade. “Did you put the stones back into the river?” he growls. “All of them?”

  Bindu steps forward. “We found them there this morning, sir. Isn’t that right, boys?”

  The captain lets go of Tai’s collar. His voice is more controlled this time. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

  Before anybody can answer, the major joins us, followed by a grinning U-Tha-Din. “I heard that two of your recruits managed a difficult task quite efficiently,” the major says. “Where are those boys?”

  The other recruits nudge and shove Tai and me forward. I catch Win Min’s scowl in the crowd of faces.

  “These boys borrowed a cart and two water buffalo, sir,” says U-Tha-Din, his beady eyes gleaming. “They talked the farmer into the loan.”

  The major smiles and claps U-Tha-Din on the back. “Good work, Sergeant. The captain said you want to see action on the front lines, but I think we need you here.”

  U-Tha-Din beams even more brightly.

  “Isn’t that right, Captain?” asks the major.

  “Yes, sir,” the captain answers, but that muscle in his cheek twitches like a snake about to strike. “Soldiers dismissed.”

  The major heads back to the jeep, but the captain lingers. “Get ready for some time alone, street scum,” he tells Tai. “And you, too, Teacher.”

  “It was my idea,” Tai says quickly. “Chiko had nothing to do with it.”

  “Is that right, Teacher?” the captain asks, turning to me. “Should I punish your friend?”

  I try to make myself speak, but nothing comes out of my mouth.

  Tai answers for me. “I’m the one,” he says, elbowing me out of the way.

  With the major waiting, the captain doesn’t have much time. He calls U-Tha-Din back and barks his orders. “Give the street boy three days of solitary. Starting immediately.”

  I wait for U-Tha-Din to protest, but he salutes his commanding officer.

  It’s done. Tai is going to confinement, and I’m not.

  So why do I feel like the one who’s condemned?

  17

  U-Tha-Din tells Tai to go to the gym and change out of his uniform. He places one hand on Tai’s shoulder before walking away. I stay with Tai, trying to think of something to say.

  Tai puts on his old longyi. “I’ll be fine, Chiko. It’s only three days. Two nights. Stay out of trouble while I’m gone.”

  That’s my problem, I think. I try to stay out of trouble.

  I can’t meet his eyes.

  Win Min and two other soldiers escort Tai to the confinement room behind the barracks. They don’t let me follow; the place is off-limits to everybody except the captain’s favorites.

  Bindu is on guard in the gym, so I ask what the place is like. “It’s a cell no bigger than a box,” he tells me. “No windows and no bathroom. Just a hole in the ground.”

  The next day, I approach one of the captain’s men with a kyat note and ask him to give Tai some of my food and water, along with a blanket. The soldier takes the money—snatches it, i
n fact—and agrees to the food and water, but refuses to give Tai the blanket.

  For two nights I can’t sleep. I toss and turn, hating myself more than ever, worrying that Tai is cold, or sick. How could I let him shoulder the blame for something we both did? Will I ever stop being a coward?

  On the third day after dinner, Tai is released. He’s weak but still upright. I’m waiting for him as he comes around the barracks. He even manages a smile when I rush to his side. I’ve brought his other longyi along and help him to the river so he can bathe.

  I take his dirty clothes, go downstream a bit, and scrub them out while Tai washes himself from head to toe. Thank goodness it’s time to sleep—he looks exhausted.

  “I’m sorry, Tai,” I say when we’re finally settled in the gym. He’s shivering, even though he’s under his blanket, so I give him my blanket, too.

  “For what?” he asks. “For not getting thrown in there with me? The stink was bad enough without you adding to it. And thanks for the food, Chiko. I’d be dead if it wasn’t for you.”

  “How did you …? What was it like?”

  He’s quiet for a minute. “I could hardly breathe. Not being able to stand was the hardest. I made it only by picturing Sawati’s face.”

  “I’m sure she’s with my mother, Tai.”

  But he shakes his head, unconvinced.

  18

  Tai’s body recovers quickly, but the anxiety over his sister gets even more intense. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t figure out a way to escape. Cars and trucks don’t come now that the material for the latrines has been delivered. The dense jungle cuts us off from the rest of the world better than any wall or chain-link fence. Two or three of the captain’s soldiers are on patrol at all times, showing off the new rifles only they are allowed to carry.

  The camp has a small number of expensive foreign-made assault rifles that are assigned to “trustworthy fighters for Burma.” And how does a soldier earn that label? Judging by the sections trained before ours, only a proven admirer of the captain’s can handle that kind of weapon. The rest of us never come close—we’re stuck with older, less reliable rifles made cheaply in Burma’s factories.