LONTAR issue #2

by Jason Erik Lundberg (editor)

  The girl saw a long grey trunk poised above her head. The nostrils narrowed as it breathed in and Quyên caught the same smell that was on Ba's skin after he went fishing. "Elephant!" Quyên said angrily. "Get out of my way! I must get to the floating market before the sun rises. Now move!"

  She had been told off before for her unthinking tongue but she did not chide the critical voice in her head. Quyên tried to sidestep the beast but the trees stood tightly, the mangrove roots twisted so that she knew she would not make it with her precious baskets. The elephant hacked and coughed again, the gills on its neck vibrating with each breath.

  The last time she had seen a water elephant, she had been only seven and Má's belly had been swollen like a watermelon. She had gone to fetch the midwife after the bleeding had started but Ba was already crying by the time they returned. The midwife had touched Má twice: once on her neck and once on her belly. Quyên still remembered how tender the movement was, as if she did not want to wake Má from a slumber. No one would answer her questions, and her persistent why, why, why became a parrot's screech, so they pushed her outside to sit with the babies in the dirt. Ba had held his head in his hands and Bà noi had moved in to cook at first, and then to teach Quyên the skills she needed outside of school, and finally just to sandwich the uncomfortable silences between father and daughter with a ceaseless monologue of gossip and complaints.

  On the first day she returned to school after the funeral, the water elephant had followed Quyên home. Only a baby water elephant as tall as her waist but it stayed three steps behind her the whole way until she turned and kicked it hard on the foot. She had said a word she knew was bad, as Ba only said it when he thought she was asleep. She had kept saying it, enjoying the harsh sound on her lips that washed out the stones and stagnant water in her chest. Tirade over, Quyên had just stared at the baby. It looked back, impassive and unperturbed by her foul language. When she continued home, she could hear its feet behind her but she did not stop it this time. Bà noi was dozing in the shade when she arrived at the hut and Quyên made her own lunch. She thought about throwing some food out of the window and keeping the baby elephant as a pet but her hand continued to shovel food into her own mouth, cramming it so full she could no longer entertain the notion. In equal parts thankful and disappointed, the baby water elephant had disappeared before her grandma woke up.

  Putting her baskets down carefully on the ground, Quyên now approached the water elephant balefully. It gleamed wet like fish scales, and the fins upon its shoulders and ankles fanned open a little as she neared. This was a full grown adult and it easily stood taller than their village temple roof. The girl held her hand out open and its trunk slipped over her palm and snuffled at her wrist. Up close, the skin was even more leathery than Bà noi's and looked as tough as tree bark. Quyên couldn't stop giggling when the trunk blew warm air in her ears and knocked her hat off her head. "Don't!" she protested between laughs. "I really must get to the floating market, elephant!"

  With those magic words, the water elephant's trunk had curled firmly around her waist and she felt the ground rush away from her in a blur of green. Quyên saw the splash of dawn in the sky, and then a canopy of leaves and suddenly an expanse of grey. She held onto it, belatedly realising that she had been dumped atop the water elephant's back. The trunk came up again and dumped her wares alongside her. Then the world started to shake.

  Once, when they were little, the village children dared each other to ride the old water buffalo Thuan shared by the farmers to plough the paddy fields. It had been a slow ride and Quyên remembered feeling the buffalo's lank ribcage digging into her flesh. Its tail had swung from side to side, batting off flies and smarting on her exposed skin. The other children had cheered her on, and despite her misgivings she had stayed atop its bony back with a grim little smile plastered to her face. For the rest of the summer, she enjoyed the respect of the other children for riding the buffalo the longest.

  Compared to the ride on Thuan the water buffalo, there was nothing frail or thin about the water elephant. With every step, Quyên felt the trees around them quiver and leaves fall from above. She slipped first to one side and then the other on its slick back. Her hands found nothing to hold on to and she could see her baskets sliding down towards the elephant's tail.

  "Stop!" she yelled. Surprisingly, the elephant did. "Well," Quyên said as she rescued the falling basil baskets. "If you really wanted to give me a ride so badly, then at least give me time to sort myself out!" The elephant's ears seemed to droop forward dolefully as she set about fixing the baskets. The elephant's girth was too wide for her short legs so she sat cross-legged on its back and placed both her hands on its fins for support. "I suppose we can carry on."

  It was a little easier now as she experimented and learnt to lean into the larger steps when the elephant steered around the mangroves and thick foliage. The beast was surprisingly agile for its bulky shape and as they passed under the shadows of trees, Quyên could see green bananas and mangoes hanging from the branches above. As the sun continued to rise, she could hear the world around them singing their wake up calls. The cicadas had never stopped their calls, but now birds and monkeys joined in with their greetings. Shrieks of alarm followed them more closely but soon, sooner than it would be if she was on her own, the songs reverted to their natural rhythms.

  The brown waters of the Mekong could be seen as ripples through the trees but the water elephant did not slow its pace. Onwards they plunged into the wide river until they arrived at its centre. The elephant's fins had splayed wide, with glimmers of silvery blue like the wings of an insect, dipping in and out of the water. They were being propelled along at some speed despite the elephant's ungainly size.

  "Are you taking me all the way to the floating market?" Quyên asked. Seemingly in answer, the elephant fanned out its tail like a rudder and steered them sharply around a bend in the river. Now that they were in the water, the ride was much smoother, and Quyên uncurled herself to lie on her stomach, her chin on the elephant's head.

  Opening her eyes suddenly, she was blinded by the surprisingly bright daylight. She peered out between her fingers at the bright blue around her. No longer was she floating in the brown of the Mekong's waters, and the green of the plants that lined and dripped from the banks had disappeared. Instead, they flew lazily through the endless blue sky as the sun beat across their faces.

  "Elephant, where are we?" she said softly and full of wonder. The elephant keened and where before there had been nothing but air, life came into being with the delicate brushstrokes of a painter. Towards them flew a dragon with jade green whiskers and golden flecked eyes, its undulating path sending a shiver through Quyên's limbs. She could smell the lingering fragrance of the two dozen durians lashed in nets across its back. A vermilion bird materialized next to a rainbow-crested phoenix. The birds twisted and chattered like gossiping aunties.

  All around them, animals materialised as if appearing from within clouds. The smell of fresh fruit and joss sticks filled Quyên's nostrils. The scents curled around the water elephant and tickled the girl's nose until she sneezed. A giant turtle and a tiger played chess on an invisible board. A family of white-eared monkeys, each carrying a bundle of sugar cane, ran over the top of the chess game causing the pieces to wobble out of place. The tiger half-heartedly snapped at their tails. Elsewhere, wild boar and sika deer were trading green vegetables.

  The water elephant took Quyên into the heart of the throng. The various animals came right up to her, paws upon her hair and snouts at the frayed edges of her clothes. Pupils blacker than charcoal in faces lined with fur and scales peered at her "nakedness." A mongoose climbed right onto the water elephant's back and stuck its nose into her basket.

  "Hey!" Quyên shouted before she could stop herself. "You have to pay for wares!" Her words trailed off as she leaned over and realised the baskets were empty. The leaves must have blown off into the wind.

  The mongoose stood up o
n its hind legs, ears alert as it inspected her. Then it scurried under the elephant's belly. Quyên started to lean forward to see where it had gone when it reappeared behind her and lit upon her shoulder with something in its mouth. Automatically her hands caught the item that it dropped, and she found herself holding a jade bangle shaped like a snake. It was the most beautiful piece of jewellery Quyên had ever seen, lovelier than Má's golden wedding necklace that Quyên liked to look at when no one else was in the house. The mongoose chattered at her like one of the aunties in the village trying to make a good deal.

  "I have nothing to trade," she said in dismay. The mongoose jumped onto her head and for a moment she felt dizzy as if something was pushing at her temples, squeezing her skull so that the pressure built and—

  She remembered her hand on Má's stomach and a frown upon her face. It was strange that there was a creature growing in there. There was a lump just under her hand, round and firmer than the rest of the belly. Quyên poked it hard with a finger. Má gasped in pain and looked down at her daughter.

  "I thought it moved," she explained innocently.

  "You have to be careful, Quyên. Em trai will be very small and delicate when he emerges into the world. You have to help protect him." Má said as she continued sewing the holes in Ba's shirts. Quyên made a face when Má wasn't looking

  "How do you know it's a boy?"

  "I feel him sometimes, in my dreams," Má said with a smile. Her fingers never stopped knitting the two frayed edges of the fabric together.

  "I don't want an ugly boy! I don't want Em at all! What's wrong with the way things are now?" Quyên said, staring at the ground.

  "Oh Quyên, you'll feel differently when he's here. I know you, my little stubborn one, your heart will melt."

  "No it won't, it won't, it won't! I won't ever love him!"

  Quyên found herself rocking forwards and put her hands out just in time to stop her head from hitting the water elephant's. The mongoose jumped from her shoulder, holding a golden orb filled with opaque liquid that warped and writhed. It held the orb up for her to inspect and Quyên could just about see her infantile face shouting defiantly at her pregnant Má. It must have only been weeks later when Má died.

  "Take it," she said. The mongoose nodded and gobbled down the memory like it was a snake's egg. Quyên pulled the bangle around her wrist but all she could feel was the grip of a manacle.

  A ky lân stepped forward with its horns of green and gold. It had delicate hooves that danced on the air and a tail made of fire that swung round and kept others at a distance. Despite all this, Quyên could only stare at the beautiful dress it held carefully in its mouth, an áo dài in sky blue silk with silver lotuses embroidered around the hem, and matching white trousers. She took it carefully from the ky lân's grasp and felt the soft fabric flow like water from her touch. The ky lân's mouth was upturned like the merchant who knew he had a captive customer. Quyên didn't even attempt to haggle, and reached out her hand willingly to make the exchange.

  She remembered scuffing stones into a corner. The sole of her sandal had started to split like a panting dog's mouth, but Bà noi said she would have to be patient until next month or go barefooted. Quyên wouldn't have minded going without shoes except the other children already teased her about having no Má, and she didn't want another reason to be mocked at school.

  "Pass me the string please," her Ba said from behind her. She huffed and stalked across the room to his tin of repair tools and back. Ba didn't look up once, just put his hand out and mumbled thanks when she slapped the reel of string into it with all of her strength. He just kept on searching the fishing net for gaps.

  "I'd be more useful on the boats with you anyway," she began as if they had never stopped the argument for dinner and then for bed the night before. "I don't see the point in school. Mr Truong just drills us and then falls asleep."

  "Mr Truong cycles an hour a day to teach our children and the only payment he is given is a free lunch."

  "Well if I don't go to school, you won't have to feed him and we'd all be better off!"

  "Quyên," Ba warned.

  "If I was a boy you'd let me come!"

  "Quyên!" Ba looked up this time and she knew he was angry. Still, she refused to take it back. She just stood there with her shoulders and fists clenched, wanting him to hit or shout at her so she'd have a reason to push back. "One day you'll understand," he said finally. He returned to the net and she knew then what she would do that night when they were asleep. She would cut through those carefully mended gaps, just enough so that it would seem like bad luck rather than malicious work. She would do it even though it would mean a hard week for them all.

  The ky lân looked at her as it swallowed the memory and for the first time Quyên felt shame. She clutched the dress to her breast and buried her face in it until the creature left. Over her head and round her waist she tied the new clothes that were too big for her twelve year old frame; besides, there was no mirror up here in which to see herself, no one she knew to whom to show off.

  The floating market continued to gravitate towards her with their wares but she shook her head. Quyên was tired now and urged the water elephant to take her home. Her new jewellery jangled like she was a queen and she longed for a mirror to gaze at herself. The elephant ignored her, hovering as immovably still as a forest giant. A catfish larger than a dog sallied towards them with a red dancing fan dangling from its whiskers.

  "I'm not sure there's anything sweet to find in here but you can look anyway," she said. With that, the fish brought up an unencumbered whisker and touched her forehead with it.

  She remembered that the basket of coconuts was heavy but every time she let them drag on the ground, Bà noi shouted at her and she had to heft the strap further up her shoulder. She glared at her grandmother's back and resented the beads of sweat pouring down her face and neck. So what if the old woman was carrying two baskets to her one, she had decades of experience! If only Quyên could be allowed one of those coconuts and its sweet water to enjoy in the shade, she would be able to walk at double the speed with enthusiasm, of that she was certain. But they were all earmarked for market and Bà noi had looked horrified when she had suggested it earlier.

  They had cleared most of the jungle and were on one of the dirt paths when they could see a commotion in the village. A crowd of people had gathered and some of them were shouting at each other. Bà noi seemed unfazed, plodding on and taking a route that would detour them around the throng. Quyên strained to hear the crux of the argument but her grandmother had gained a sudden spurt of energy and was practically sprinting to their hut.

  Quyên was not therefore expecting her to stop suddenly. She bumped up against the old woman's back and was surprised to not be greeted with the usual curt comment. Bà noi stared down at the ground, muttering very softly as she shook her head. Quyên peered around her and saw Thuan the water buffalo lying on his side, breathing shallowly. Flies buzzed around his nose and eyes but the beast didn't care and let them crawl over his face. Those ribs that she remembered from the bruising on her thighs, were nothing more than bare branches and Quyên knew straight away that the water buffalo was dying.

  One of their neighbours walked unhurried towards the buffalo with a pan of water. "He collapsed at midday," she explained as she crouched beside the beast and coaxed it to drink. "Dương had already told us to rest him because of the sprained leg but ah, on his last legs and only 10 years old? Maybe the sky will bring us the money to replace him because harvest is going to be difficult this year."

  Bà noi made a sympathetic noise and shook her head. "Well someone must have decided he could work just a little bit more, eh? It's always the way that selfishness destroys our community. Quyên?"

  The girl blinked at her name, fearing that she had been given away. But no, Bà noi was just querying why her granddaughter's feet had started subconsciously shuffling away.

  Quyên blinked and saw the memory in front of
her in a bubble of golden viscous dew at the end of the catfish's whisker. The fish teased it out as simply as brushing her hair and curled it close to its mouth. Another whisker curled out and dropped the fan on her lap.

  "Yes," Quyên said. "Have it!"

  The catfish inhaled her memory through its gills. Quyên waved the fan before her face but the breeze it mustered did little to cool the red of her cheeks. "Water elephant, take me home now, please." But the elephant was distracted by a baby water elephant that wove clumsily in between its feet and reached a trunk up to be petted. Quyên realized at once in her heart that it was the same baby water elephant she had met before. She just knew this fact with certain dread, even though she could not explain what she feared.

  The baby elephant butted the older elephant playfully until the adult gave a gentle kick. It uncurled its trunk and offered Quyên a carved lacquer box. Curiosity overcame the girl and she took it, opening the lid to find a treasure trove that made her salivate: spiced pork bao, tapioca and coconut pudding, sticky sweet rice, sesame balls, rice flour dumplings, and candied nuts. All of the sweet things she loved that her grandmother had neither the time nor money to prepare. It was a glorious feast. And she knew without being told that the box was magical; it would give her desserts and sweets freshly made whenever she desired. Quyên held out her arm for the trade.

  She remembered Bà noi tripping over the pot of water. The clatter of plates and pans that fell as she tried to keep her balance. The way her sandal did a little flip backwards as it fell from her foot. Quyên ran to her grandmother's side and put her hand on the woman's arm.

  "Stupid girl... Leave...floor?" Bà noi muttered under her breath as she sat up, hand pressed against her right hip. The right side of her face looked like it had melted and then frozen into place.