It must be, because Peh pulls me into the trees. “Soldiers,” he hisses.
Every muscle in my body tightens with anger. Those Burmese will stop at nothing. They kill without remorse—that’s why our village had to evacuate three months ago. Most of the villagers hid in the jungle on the Burmese side of the border, but a few escaped into Thailand, like my family. I grabbed Mango and followed Peh and Mua and my sister. None of them turned around. They didn’t see the soldiers burning our home and bamboo grove. But I did. My mind blazes with the memory.
“Get down,” Peh orders now.
We obey instantly, flattening ourselves under the bushes and camouflaging each other with leaves. I reach out one hand and quickly cover the hem of Peh’s trousers and his boot.
“Good work, son,” Peh whispers.
I can’t help feeling pleased, despite the danger. It’s been a while since I’ve heard praise from either of my parents. Lately it’s been lectures from Mua and disappointed looks from Peh. In fact, the entire camp was surprised when he chose me to be a member of the team, but I know why I’m here. I overheard my parents talking when they thought I was asleep. As usual, I was staring into the darkness, remembering the soldiers who burned our house.
“The boy’s changed,” Peh said. “He’s full of anger.”
“It’s that new friend of his,” Mua whispered. “He’s a bad influence.”
“You’re right. Maybe it would be good for Tu Reh to join me on the next mission.”
I almost jumped up and shouted, “Yes, Peh!” before remembering I was supposed to be asleep. I’d been wanting to join Peh’s team since we got to camp. I was tired of wasting time with school and chores and games with my little sister while other Karenni fought to stay alive in the jungle.
“But it’s dangerous,” said Mua.
“He’s sixteen now, my love, becoming a man.”
“I know.” Mua sighed.
“But what kind of a man is he becoming?” Peh asked, and he sounded worried. I could hear him crunching on the bamboo shoots Mua fries and stores as snacks.
“A brave one, like his peh,” Mua said. “With a big appetite like his peh’s”
My parents laughed. I saw Peh reach over and take Mua in his arms. One of them blew out the candle, and darkness hid them.
I don’t care why my parents let me come. I’m here now, with Sa Reh so jealous he can hardly stand it. My parents were right about him and me being angry. He hates the Burmese as much as I do, maybe even more. When he was small they forced his mua into hard labor. She wasn’t strong enough to survive it. Sa Reh once told me about the day they captured her. He hasn’t talked about it to anyone else.
“Kill a soldier for my mua,” he told me before I left.
I made the promise, but our mission on this journey isn’t to fight. We’re carrying medical supplies and food to Karenni hiding in the jungle. We don’t even have any weapons. Peh said our camp needed to reserve them for direct combat.
The voices and footsteps are distinct now, closer, louder. Soon I see them through the leaves—five soldiers wearing that forest green uniform I remember so well. I lie quietly, barely daring to breathe. Have these soldiers already discovered some of our people, maybe even killed them? I picture myself leaping out at them, knocking down one, then two, then three. If only one of us had a rifle!
They’re talking about finding the healer’s hut and destroying it. My heart beats faster as I think of the two Karenni girls who live there with their grandfather.
Somebody has to defend them! I’m sure Peh is thinking like I am.
Five of us. Five of them.
We can take them, rifles or no rifles. I’m strong—my thighs and arms are as big as Peh’s now. I brace myself, ready to leap out as soon as he gives the signal.
2
But Peh keeps still.
The soldiers have found the spring. Now they’re only about twenty meters away, arguing as they fill their water bottles.
With a pang, I remember I didn’t pick up my bamboo pole before Peh pulled me away. Will the soldiers find it? Will they feel the grip of my hand, still warm, on the bamboo?
They’re moving again, marching, tramping, talking in loud voices.
Peh waits until we can’t hear them before crawling out of the leaves. “Back to the spring,” he orders curtly.
He and the others talk in low voices while I hunt for my pole. That piece of bamboo and Mango are the only two possessions I still have from our village. The pole is nowhere in sight. I cut it from the grove that was planted by my grandfather’s father—the grove that is gone now. BAM!
An explosion shatters the jungle. My hands fly to cover my ears. Not many things scare me, but detonating a hidden mine is one of them. Too many people in camp have only one leg.
When the noise stops echoing, Peh shakes his head. “Sounds like a claymore. That’s the worst kind.” BOOM!
Another one! This one isn’t as loud. For once I’m glad the Burmese planted so many mines in these jungles. If only more of them would explode under their own feet. It would make things so much easier for us.
“Let’s get out of here,” says one of the men. “If any of those soldiers are still alive, they’ll be coming back this way soon.”
“No, they won’t,” Peh says. “Didn’t you hear what they said? They’re heading to destroy the healer’s hut and return by nightfall.”
The other men are shaking their heads. “We’ll have to fight those scoundrels if we follow them,” one says. “We didn’t bring any weapons, and we’ve got people waiting for supplies.”
“The girls and their grandfather are in danger,” Peh says. “Someone has to warn them.”
Nobody answers, and none of them meet his eyes. I clench my fists. Isn’t there a man on this team besides Peh?
“I’ll do it,” I say. If I leave my pack, I can run fast. I’ll go through the jungle to pass the soldiers without them seeing me, warn the healer, and then race back here to catch up with the team.
Peh’s expression doesn’t change much, but I can tell he’s pleased. “I’ll show you a shortcut, Tu Reh,” he says. “But first let’s check on those soldiers. Will the rest of you wait?”
“We’ll wait,” someone answers. “We can’t do this mission without you, Oo Reh. But hurry back.”
“I will,” Peh promises, and the men seem satisfied.
I leave my pack with them and follow my father.
3
We backtrack around a bend where the trail seems to end in a tangle of bushes. We just came this way, pushing through the undergrowth, so Peh and I know the main trail is just on the other side.
“What’s that?” I ask, pointing into the field beside us.
Peh squints into the afternoon sun. A short distance away, four limp piles of uniforms are strewn across the field. The bodies don’t move, but we keep still just in case and watch for a few minutes.
Peh takes off his pack. “Stay here, Tu Reh,” he whispers.
I watch him make his way to the bodies. Why did these soldiers leave the trail? Uncharted land is peppered with mines. It’s stupid to try to take shortcuts into the unknown.
Peh examines each soldier in turn, removing rifles from their bodies and gathering ammunition from their bags. They must be dead. That’s good news. Those four won’t kill or hurt Karenni again. The healer is out of danger, the girls are safe, and now we can take these weapons along.
Peh slings the four rifles over one shoulder and heads for the undergrowth bordering the field. I hold my breath each time his foot lands, but there’s no explosion. He gestures to me and disappears.
Reluctantly I walk into the brambles and bushes. It’s stifling in there. Small crosses are scratched on the trunks of trees to mark the cleared trail, and I keep a careful eye on them.
“A claymore killed the four on the field,” Peh says when I come into sight. He’s off the trail, but only by a few meters. “This one stepped on a makeshift mine. He’s still a
live.”
A body is sprawled at Peh’s feet. One leg is bent at a strange angle, but the chest is rising and falling with ragged breaths. I glimpse the splintered bone of shin poking through a shredded pant leg. If this soldier survives, which is doubtful, he’ll lose that leg for sure.
Beside him is my bamboo pole—I recognize it immediately. A dark stain on the ground under the injured leg is spreading. I step carefully to where Peh is standing and grab my pole before it gets bloody.
There’s no sign of a weapon. This soldier must not have been carrying one. I do spot a pair of eyeglasses not far from his head. I pick those up, too, and shove them into my pocket.
Peh hands me the ammunition and slings the rifles across my shoulder one by one. Once I’m loaded up, he scoops the Burmese soldier into his arms. What’s he doing? This soldier isn’t a danger to the people in the healer’s hut. We can leave him to his fate, return to the team, and finish the mission.
“Make a path for me, Tu Reh,” Peh says. “Time is short.”
I shift the weight of the rifles on my shoulder and push my way through the brambles. As I hold back branches so Peh can pass, I wonder if he’s planning to end this soldier’s pain with a bullet. It would be like him to show that kind of mercy to an enemy. But why not do it back there? Why not end it quickly?
When we reach the open trail, Peh lowers the soldier to the ground and digs through his pack for his water bottle, ointment, and strips of clean cotton. Now I really don’t understand. Why is he wasting medicine and supplies we brought for the Karenni on an enemy?
I watch in amazement as Peh washes the wound, applies ointment, and ties a tourniquet around the soldier’s thigh. Then he wraps the leg with bandages to staunch the bleeding. Finally he rises. He places his fingers on the soldier’s wrist. “He might still live.”
“He’s Burmese,” I say, the frustration ringing in my voice. “Why are we helping him, Peh?”
“He’s hurt badly. The animals will tear him to pieces tonight.”
“Then we should end his pain now,” I say, handing Peh one of the rifles. “It’s loaded. I checked.”
Slowly Peh takes the rifle. “We could do that,” he says. “But there’s another choice.”
“What?”
“We could carry him to the healer’s hut.”
Was I hearing right? “No, Peh! We promised the men we’d go back.”
“I made that promise, Tu Reh,” Peh says. “You didn’t.”
My heart sinks. What’s he saying? What does he want me to do?
Peh reaches for my bamboo pole, and I give it to him. He holds it in one hand and the rifle in his other. It looks almost like he’s weighing them.
“A man full of hatred is like a gun, my son,” Peh says. “He can be used for only one purpose—to kill.”
I know. That’s what I want to do, what I’ve dreamed of constantly since we escaped—making the Burmese pay.
Peh hands the rifle to me. Then, with a swift flick of his wrist, he tosses the bamboo pole high in the air. It’s light, so it rises easily and arcs and falls without a sound.
We each catch an end. “The rifles are good, Peh. You’re glad we have them, aren’t you?”
“I am glad. I’m not denying that. It’s a find, four rifles and ammunition, too. But could you kill a wild animal with this bamboo, Tu Reh?”
“Yes, Peh.”
He knew I could. I fought off a wild pig once. The animal raced right at my sister, and I beat it so badly we cooked it the next day. But I’ve also hunted with rifles, and so has Peh.
“What else can you do with it, Tu Reh? Do you remember harvesting it?”
We’re still holding the bamboo like a bridge. I picture our beautiful grove dancing in the sunlight and the wind, and for a second it’s hard to answer. “Mua cooks it,” I manage at last.
“She uses it for fuel, too, remember?”
“And we make medicine out of it. Baskets. Houses. Rafts. So many, many things.”
“That’s right. And that’s why I’m going to stay like the bamboo, Tu Reh. I want to be used for many purposes. Not just one.”
Peh releases his end of the pole, and it lands on the ground with a thud. “I won’t command you, my son. A Karenni man must decide for himself. Leave him for the animals. End his life now. Or carry him to the healer. It’s your choice.”
4
I feel dizzy. How can Peh leave this to me?
“Don’t decide too quickly, my son,” Peh adds. “Take some time to think.” He picks up his pack and the other three rifles and walks around the bend, leaving me with the soldier, the fourth rifle, and my pole.
I have both weapons in my hands. I can use either one. It’s my choice, he said. But even though I can’t see Peh, it’s like he’s still there. And I know what he wants me to do. I know how he feels about killing someone—he sees it only as a defense, a last resort.
I carry on the argument with him in my head. If I carry this soldier to the healer’s hut, it’s going to take me too long to get back. I’ll never catch up with the team. No! I want to take this journey with you, Peh. The whole journey. I’ve pictured our return to camp with stories to tell of Karenni lives we saved. Sa Reh will be so impressed. How can I give that up after only a couple of days, all because of a stupid Burmese soldier? Why couldn’t he have died like the others?
The fire rages in my head. Leave him here, Tu Reh. He’s Burmese. A soldier. They’re destroying our people, our land, our future. Leopards or wild dogs will pick up the scent of blood. They’ll tear him to pieces by nightfall.
I turn to go. But the soldier is stirring. He moans. One hand gropes for the pocket on his shirt.
I can’t help glancing at his face. Beads of sweat gleam on his hairless upper lip. He can’t be much older than fourteen or fifteen. Just a kid, really. Could I leave a boy younger than me to be attacked by beasts? It’s a terrible way to die.
The flaming voice in my head answers so loudly I’m surprised Peh doesn’t come running to shut it up. Then kill him yourself! Use the weapon they were carrying to kill us!
It’s time to act—time to grow up and become a man. A man for the Karenni.
I fling down the bamboo pole and lift the rifle. Placing the stock against my shoulder, I aim the barrel straight at the soldier’s skull.
Do it! Kill him!
But as my fingers tighten around the trigger, the boy’s eyes open. They stare into mine. He says something in a low voice, repeating the same word again and again.
I hear it.
I understand it.
This boy wants his mother.
Mua’s face, lined with worry, comes whirling into my mind. Somewhere, far away in the plains of Burma, another mother is waiting for a son to come home.
I swear.
I lower the rifle.
He’ll die anyway! Kill him!
The voice isn’t done shouting, but I can’t obey it.
Not with those eyes staring at me; not with that voice calling for his mother.
I sling the rifle back on my shoulder and pick up the bamboo pole. “Peh!” I call.
Peh comes hurrying back. He scans the soldier from head to toe. I see the relief in his face. “Still alive,” he says.
“Probably not for long,” I answer. “But I’ll try to take him to the healer.”
Peh doesn’t hold back his proud smile. “That’s good, Tu Reh.”
“What should I do when I get there, Peh? Should I stay and protect the girls and their grandfather? Won’t other soldiers come and try to rescue this one?”
Peh places both hands on my shoulders. I try not to show my surprise, but we both know that fathers only do this once or twice in a son’s lifetime. We stand face-to-face for a long moment. “One decision leads to another, my son. God will show you the way.”
5
I put down the rifle and tie the canteen and my pole securely to the loops on my trousers. When Peh lifts the boy and places him on my back, I stagger befo
re steadying myself. The boy’s arms dangle limply, and I clutch his clammy wrists. The smell of sweat and blood and maybe something worse attacks my nose.
Peh slings his pack and all four rifles over his shoulders. He leads me into the teak grove to find the trail. At least I won’t have to cut through the jungle now that the other soldiers are dead. He lifts and kicks fallen branches and other debris out of the way until we see a trail veering up to the left. “When you get to a broken tree, look to the west for the hut. Shouldn’t take you more than two hours if you keep moving. I’ll see you back in camp in a few weeks, Tu Reh. And trust me, you’ll be the first man I pick for the next mission.”
Giving me a quick smile, Peh’s gone. I want to shout after him, What’s next? Tell me what to do, Peh! But instead I turn and start trudging up the hill. My first task is to get to the healer’s hut. Will we make it before dark?
The Burmese boy is thin, but heavy in his sleep. I lift and place each of my feet slowly on the trail, drawing on every ounce of muscle in my legs. Soon, too soon, I have to rest. I lower the soldier to the ground with a thud. The boy moans in pain, and his eyes open again. He tries to speak, but this time no sound comes from his dry, cracked lips.
I unbuckle my canteen, still full from the spring, and drink deeply. What’s wrong with me? I can’t kill this enemy; I can’t even leave him for the animals. Gone soft, Sa Reh will say, if I ever tell him about this crazy turn of events. Maybe the soldier will do me a favor and die on the way. Deserves it, the idiot, for leaving the trail.
I sit for a few minutes more and worry. I’m bringing an enemy to the healer’s hut. How can I be sure they’ll receive him? And even if they do, I can’t leave him there. Other soldiers are sure to come searching for him. The girls and their grandfather will be trapped and captured, perhaps even killed. We’ll have to flee for camp as soon as we can. And then what to do with the Burmese boy?
Blast this soldier. Why has he crossed my path?
Those eyes are watching me again. They flicker to my canteen.
Blast him again, he’s thirsty. I sigh, reach over, angle the canteen, and let some water dribble into his open mouth. The boy swallows again and again before sinking back into sleep.
Bamboo People Page 9