Hwang Sok-Yong - The Shadow of Arms

“That’s right, it was liberated for two weeks exactly,” Minh said, correcting her choice of verbs.

As Mrs. Trinh poured some green tea into Minh’s cup, the daughter asked, “Have you eaten dinner yet? We made some curry, there’s still plenty left. . ”

“I would like some, thank you.”

The young widow patted Minh’s hand gently.

“No wonder you have no energy.”

She brought out the meal. Fried bananas, vegetables, and sweet rice with curry on top. His mouth watering at the smell of curry, Minh picked up the pair of long chopsticks and started wolfing down the food.

“Your parents are well?”

Pham Minh seemed not to have heard the question. Hunched over the table, he was totally absorbed in eating. Flares began to light up the dusk gathering over Dong Dao.

“When did you get back?”

“Sorry, what did you say?”

“Something is bothering you.”

Pham Minh kept on eating and said nothing. The noisy whine of a motorbike grew louder as it approached, with a cloud of dust mushrooming behind. The scooter slid to an abrupt stop in front of the house. Sitting behind the girl driving it was Shoan. Seeing Pham Minh, she let a long sigh of relief.

“My, who is this? Chan Te Shoan! Please come in. Invite your friend in, too.”

“No, she can’t. She has to get home before curfew. Thanks, Puok.”

When Pham Minh looked at her, the girl on the scooter smiled at him, covering her mouth with her hand.

“You’re Lei’s brother, aren’t you?”

The scooter zoomed noisily away. Trinh’s daughter looked at Pham Minh and Shoan in turn as they sat beside each other.

“What’s going on? Are you hurt?”

Shoan’s white ahozai was torn and dirty, and her hand was bandaged in a shredded handkerchief.

“Oh! It’s nothing, I just had a fall on the way here. . ”

“I’m sorry, but it seems that we have to ask to spend the night here.”

Mrs. Trinh smiled softly. “I believe something is worrying you both. Has Pham Minh received a draft notice?”

Pham Minh avoided answering.

“. . I’m leaving home. But that doesn’t mean I’m going back to school.”

From inside there was a barely audible cough.

“Ah, father must be up now,” said the daughter.

Pham Minh went in alone, leaving Shoan on the porch. Inside, the room was in disarray with wicker chairs strewn all over the place. The thick odor of opium saturated the air. A hammock was hanging at the door leading out back and in it Uncle Trinh lay sideways, rocking back and forth. A long pipe still loaded with a bit of smoldering opium was sitting on the tobacco box. Trinh’s eyes were cloudy and he could not seem to focus them. His long grayish hair was pulled back neatly from his forehead and he was clad in white.

“How are you, Uncle? It’s Pham Minh.”

“Um, Pham Minh. .” Trinh muttered, listlessly waving his long arm. “Come closer.”

Pham Minh moved a wicker chair up beside the hammock.

Trinh looked around. “I’m thirsty. What time is it?”

“After seven, I think.”

Pham Minh brought a kettle of cooled green tea from the table and Trinh drank some, savoring it.

“It’s back again.” Trinh touched his forehead and then slowly rose from the hammock. “We’re back. From the glory of the Li Dynasty to Cochinchina, we’ve come back.”

Pham Minh said nothing. Trinh put on a pair of fancy sandals with cork insoles and pulled another chair over to sit across from Pham Minh. His dim consciousness seemed to awaken gradually.

“You’ve changed a lot.”

Pham spoke in a reproachful tone. Following Minh’s gaze, Trinh looked over at the raw opium lying on top of the tobacco box.

“You’re right. I’m an old man. . dragging out his life too long.”

“You don’t drink?”

“Never. My body won’t let me. I can’t sleep at night. Lately I’ve been taking trips.”

“Trips?”

“To escape the Sondin of today. I’ve been roaming down in the delta region where the bananas and mangos are plentiful and the birds sing cheerfully in the trees. You can see the Mekong River.”

Pham Minh hung his head. Trinh kept on drinking tea, the hand holding his cup was shaking.

“In the old days you used to give us inspirational speeches.”

“It’s gotten boring. It’s taking too long. I hear there’s an offensive underway out there now, eh?”

“The lunar New Year offensive just started. But the cities are quiet now. Nothing has changed in Saigon, though.”

“It was the same last year and the year before. In the days of Dien Bien Phu we had false hopes. Those children who went to my school must all be dead by now, or disappeared.”

“Still, new babies are born everyday.”

Pham Minh felt the sudden chill of Trinh’s icy fingers on the back of his hand.

“True, and you are beside me. But we live in a world where you can’t go on living without choosing one side or the other. So, you quit school, did you?”

Pham Minh hesitated for a second before answering. “I too have made a choice.”

“Which side?” Trinh asked with a grin.

“I volunteered to join the National Liberation Front,” Pham Minh said flatly.

“Ah. .”

Uncle Trinh squeezed Minh’s hand and then released it.

“So you’ve reached that age. I should add your name to that list up there.” He looked up at a Buddhist altar in the center of the inner room. There was red incense in the burner, but it was not lit. Above it stood a candlestick and on the wall, columns of palm-sized nameplates.

“Thirty to be exact. Some entered the government army and others joined the Liberation Front.”

“All killed in action?”

Trinh shook his head.

“I don’t know how many of them have died. . perhaps all. Or some may still be alive.”

“To join the government army at a time like this is to stab your own people in the back. They are traitors.”

“You’re right,” Trinh said quietly, “but they are also part of the history produced by Cochinchina.” Trinh laughed and continued, “It is also true of the people of my generation. Ultimately, only you boys will remain, or maybe it will not end till long after you’re gone. But all must be remembered. Those who fought, and those who fled.”

Trinh reached out his bony hand for the tobacco box. He rolled a small chunk of resin-like opium into a round ball.

“Why don’t you give that up?”

“Ah, why bother? My mind is sound. And there are so many lost, that I too am tempted by destruction.”

Trinh set the long pipe down. Shoan had noiselessly crept in and was now standing behind Pham Minh.

“Hello.”

“Shoan! So you’ve come too. I trust your father is well?”

Shoan, shy, managed to voice a quiet “yes.”

“Come, sit here. You must have come to see Pham Minh off.”

Pham Minh pulled another chair over for Shoan.

“Just a coincidence.”

“Very well. I’m glad you came to see me.”

Recalling their farewell earlier, Minh and Shoan thought about their vague promise to meet at Uncle Trinh’s house. As Minh set out not long after their parting, Shoan too must have soon slipped away from home and rushed to Trinh’s.

“I have seen many young couples like you. I am happy to be able to host you in my home.” He began to fill the bowl of his pipe with opium. “There are times I feel I ought to have become a monk or a clergyman.”

“I don’t think you’d. .”

“Why, I don’t have any religious qualities, you mean? My generation, we’re all alike. Skillful at praying and shamelessly outliving our usefulness. I’d like to pray for you. . and be master of ceremonies at your wedding.”