Duong Huong - The Zenith

When the police chief turned the lock, a whole bunch of rats jumped out, crawling between his legs, rushing to get outside, and disappearing into the hedge on the side of the road. The air from this holding cell escaped like a breath smelling of rat urine and wetness and blew right in people’s faces.

“You, sister, go in.”

A militiaman led Miss Ngan up to the door and began to untie her. At that moment, everyone saw that her blouse had been torn at the armpit. When she had been arrested, she had resisted and a struggle had broken out between her and those who were trying to do their duty. She had cried quite a bit and looked exhausted and absentminded to the point where she could not even move her arm. The soldier who escorted her had to untie the rope until the very last knot:

“You, sister; go in there! Are you deaf just standing there?”

Miss Ngan still stood silent, as if she did not hear the order of her jailer; her eyes, filled with tears, were blurred with fear and fatigue.

“You heard the arrest warrant, why don’t you comply?” the police chief shouted. After that, seeing that the suspect did not acknowledge his words, he raised his arms and pushed Miss Ngan’s back: “Go inside!”

Pointing at the room scattered with stuff, cheap and moldy, he sharpened his voice: “Go in. Now your home is in there.”

Miss Ngan was pushed in like she was a sack of rice husks The police chief pulled the door, locked it, and said to the air, “Sometime between now and night someone will bring you food.”

After that he turned to his aides and gave an order: “Find someone to bring her a meal. Tomorrow, the government will decide.”

Then, he took a few steps toward the curious children and other onlookers, casting a stern look at each one. They were as silent as a pile of unhusked rice, staring back at the human face of power. A fear long buried suddenly popped into life, turning them confused and reticent. Waiting for the silence to pass, the police chief cleared his voice like an actor preparing to step out on the stage. “Folks: please listen carefully. The duty of each citizen is to work; because work is glorious. Therefore I ask you all to resume your tasks. We should not let productivity go to waste. As for social evils, we, representatives of the government, have the duty to rectify them. First, I, individually and as village police chief, promise in front of you all that these matters will be diligently pursued. We will destroy to their roots all harmful dangers and so defend the life of our community as well as the happiness under each roof. OK; anything to say?”

The man stopped and looked at each one.

“Hurrah!” someone yelled, certainly one who needed to curry favor with the village authorities. But the rest of the crowd remained silent, perhaps because the just delivered official discourse had not yet worked its way through their brains. or because the sight of a woman tied at her elbows reminded them of what had happened to many during the great proletarian land-reform campaign. Past fears returned. The one who had shouted “Hurrah!” seeing no one else echoing his sentiment, quietly slunk to the back. The police chief saw that his heartfelt lecture had fallen flat. Embarrassed, he changed his tone and shouted:

“If no one has anything to add, then disperse!”

With that, he ran off immediately. His subordinates followed. The curious onlookers stood where they were, gazing in silence and apprehension at the huge lock. Some inquisitive children ran over and stared through the crack of the door, hoping to see the prisoner, but the heavy wooden doors were so tightly fitted that there was no opening even for a pin or a toothpick to squeeze through, so they grew disappointed and left.

As the sun reached its zenith for the day, even the most curious had to depart — they were hungry. They hurriedly cooked their meal, hurriedly called for their children, and hurriedly ate so that they could go to Mr. Quang’s house and see what was happening. There the gates were open wide, but no one could go inside, because Mrs. Tu was sitting squarely on the steps to the central room. From there she could see each person as they crossed through the gate. She spoke up cheerfully as if nothing at all was going on in the world:

“Please do enter and enjoy some water, ladies and gentlemen. Today take the opportunity to rest in the shade. This sun fries the cassava fields like coal feeding a furnace. About an hour or so ago, I was weeding cassava and my nephew told me. The two of us ran back like mad to arrive just as Miss Ngan was being taken away. Quy’s wife and kids were standing on the patio. They had been summoned to watch the house. I chased the bunch of them away.”

“How could you dare do that?”

“Why couldn’t I? Quy may be village chairman, but in the family, he must still look up to me. His mother gave him birth sick with seizures and all by myself I took care of him. When he was seven, he had a skin infection for an entire spring. I had to bend over to clean his scabs until my back hurt and my eyes got blurry. It was me again who boiled water with herbs to bathe him and rubbed on ointment to cure him. His mother was useless; she didn’t know what to do. From the very day he got the chairman’s position until now, he’s been snotty and conceited. The public security militia and the village police chief would not dare take a step like this without an order from him. A son who ignores the face of his own father to this extent is not human.”

“I heard it might be an order coming from the provincial authorities.”

“If the province had ordered it, then the provincial police should have taken care of it, not those coolie faces from this village. Of those twelve militiamen who came to this house and tied up Auntie Ngan, six slipped out of their mother’s pelvis to me, who cut their umbilical cords and washed them up. I will go to each of their houses, flap my skirt in their faces, and wait to see what they will dare do to me.”

“They’re just low-level flunkies. Big shots give the orders, they just bow and jump to it.”

“During the land reform there was no lack of big shots who denounced their fathers, their mothers, spitting on their parents and calling them oppositionists and traitors. And what did they ever achieve?”

“True enough, they are not human; but when they are put to orders, how can they dare resist?”

“Gold is tested by fire. The good separate from the bad during hard times. When it’s easy, everyone smiles; when times are happy, who doesn’t clap their hands?”

Abruptly, Mrs. Tu ended the discussion and, in a flash, changed the subject:

“In this house we have very superior raw sugar. Anyone who wants chrysanthemum tea with very superior raw sugar, please ask.”

“Marigolds, yes?”

“Sisters, you know nothing! You can’t use marigolds for tea. If you do use them, you have to throw it out, it’s too harsh. One uses only white mums or the tiny yellow ones, the kind that is small like a shirt button.”

“Who can brew tea as well as you to know this!”

“In hot weather drinking chrysanthemum tea is refreshing. Well, please do have some.”

The way Mrs. Tu had ended her disquisition and changed the subject was more clever than what a professional stage director would have done. The villagers wanted more details but dared not ask any further. The wall clock in Mr. Quang’s house lazily struck three. The visitors bade their hostess farewell and left. No one had any desire to go up or down to their fields. They all went home, freshened up, turned blankets and mats to dry, trimmed branches in garden nooks, weeded — tedious tasks undertaken to run out the afternoon, as they waited for a chance to gather after dinner.