Duong Huong - The Zenith

The saying used to go, “With father gone, there’s still the uncle / With mother dead, the aunt will still give suck.” That was all one needed in a traditional Nong clan. After the funeral, An’s uncle and aunt sold their house to a neighbor and moved into his parents’ house on stilts so that they could take care of their nephew. At the time they had been a young couple. Not until four years later, when he turned nine years old, did they have an only child, a girl called Nang My. There had been nothing to set off one child from the other and they loved each other as if they had come from the same parents. Nang My had been born the same year as Dong’s younger sister, called intimately “Little One,” and thus, in their case also, those two girls — niece and aunt — had become fast friends from the time they were toddlers. At the age of seventeen, his uncle and aunt had married him to Dong. After the wedding, seeing that her father was by himself, they had been allowed to go and live in the house on stilts on the other side of the mountain. It had been a marriage made in heaven, as it was like a series of honeymoons. Or better yet, one unending honeymoon. Two weeks after the wedding, he had gone down to That Khe district town to continue his studies. Once a month, the lovers had been allowed to be together. At that time, the district school did not have enough students, so the program dragged along. For that reason, it took him more than ten years to complete his secondary schooling. At the graduation ceremony that year, he, Nong Van Thanh, was the only Tay to graduate — the pride of Xiu Village, who had achieved a dream shared by all prominent Tay families.

Growing up under the protection of his aunt and uncle, An could do no more than submissively comply with the orders of his uncle, who one day said to him: “You have become quite a grown-up man but you are still in your youth. I have hesitated for several years, but now you must go and join the resistance. We are a small village with not many households but we cannot afford to become the laughingstock of the larger villages.”

“I understand, Uncle.”

“Your aunt will take care of your clothes and medicine and some cash. Is there anything else you need?”

“I just need a few days to go and say good-bye to my friends in the village and to go down to the district to take leave of my teachers.”

“OK. We have five days before you need to go to camp.”

After a moment of hesitation, An had added: “I haven’t done anything to help you, Uncle. Ever since my childhood, I have done nothing but take your money and rice to go and study. Now that I am on my way, I leave back here my family burden.”

His uncle smiled. “We raised you so that you could become a useful person. That was my wish. Now that you are enlisting it’s because I realize you cannot avoid your duty toward the country. As you are going to be on your way, be at ease. At home we will take care of Nang Dong, your wife. Besides, Mr. Cao, your father-in-law, and I are friends…”

An had not dared say anything further. What more could he say to a person who was both his uncle and father? Besides, he was very much in the prime of his youth and had wished to be on his way into the world. New horizons had beckoned him. Echoes of war from far away had called to his soul; many of his classmates had already enlisted. Even Nang Xuan, “Little One,” had left the village at the age of thirteen to join other young cadets in the maquis. And pretty soon, his own sister would possibly be sent to the Soviet Union or China in accordance with the mobilization and training plans of the revolutionary movement. In such case, how could he stay put? The quiet valley, which was his birthplace, was bordered on all sides by the forests. He knew every path going through those gentle woods. In the familiar surrounding hills, he was fully cognizant of all the falls that trickled onto the rocks and cliffs. Nightingale Falls in particular had been singing its eternal song from the time he had been a baby till he knew how to make love. The footprints of buffalo on the muddy paths leading to the village on a rainy day — the jingling bells under their necks resonating in the deserted sunsets — was all too familiar to him, familiar to the point of his not noticing them. He realized that he must leave this valley to learn a little more of the outside world. He must go out even though he very much loved Dong.

“Once you go, how long before you will be back?” she had asked.

“I am going to war. Once the war is over I will be back.”

“I’ll miss you,” she had said, starting to cry.

“I will miss you, too. But to do my duty to our rivers and mountains I must go. If you love me, then wait for me. For surely I will be back,” he had replied. The same answer that soldiers for thousands of generations had given to their young wives before leaving their villages. Such consoling words are always meant for those leaving as much as for those who stay. She had let her face fall on his shoulder and her tears had soaked the indigo shirt he was wearing. Her tears had been warm and very wet. Warm and wet the same as…

The recollection stands An’s hair on end. He at once closes his eyes. A chilly wind is blowing from the direction of the stage onto his face. Just at that moment, the singing of the madwoman in the red skirt fills the empty space.

In silence An tells himself: “Life is full of deceit. Like the wild rooster eating in the company of peacocks. Your innocent tears rendered my shoulder warm one night long ago. Tonight, however, my shoulder has been warmed with human blood. The blood of a traitor mingled with that of another innocent person. The same way, I guess, as the wild rooster ate together with the peacocks. That is, however, fate’s way. I had no way to avoid my fate. I will have to continue on that road so as to find where you are living now. You and our Little Sis.”

“Hurrah!”

“Bravo, bravo…”

Everyone is standing up around him. An quickly follows suit. The performances are over. All the performers and the musicians rush to the stage to take a bow and take leave of the soldiers. The commanding officers go up onstage to present flower bouquets. The accordions play at full volume in front of the sound system so that both the performers and the audience can sing the finale before parting. Those onstage wave their bouquets, the soldiers below clapping hands in time with the drums.

The clapping of hands resonates over the mountain and into the forests. Then, after a few minutes of boisterous noise, the deputy division commander walks up to the mike to thank the performing troupe. At the same time he wishes the units present a fine training season. An noticed how he looked right and left for something before he stepped up onstage. For the person who should be saying tonight’s closing words is the division commander. But he has mysteriously disappeared.

Then the units of Battalion 209 start to check their ranks before retiring. The soldiers of the division disperse in every direction to their encampments. An sees Nha, the battalion commander, looking for him. An raises his hand and waves.

“Commander, our company is over here.”

He then gives an order to the platoon leaders: “You comrades can go back to your barracks. There is nothing left to do here by the stage. Tomorrow, I am sure the division leaders will let you sleep in a little in compensation. That’s my guess.”

“It makes sense to let us oversleep a bit, sir. It’s already two thirty-five.”

The Battalion 209 units begin to leave one after the other. Drumrolls of thunder arise over the forest.

“Quick, you bum! How can you be so awkward?”