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by Tram Nguyen Y Anh After he finished watering the last bed of lettuce, the old man Nam put the watering can into the shed and lay down in the hammock hanging between the two mango trees. He rolled a cigarette and lit it with the ancient Zippo lighter he took out of his pocket. He inhaled the smoke deeply.
Evening descended peacefully. A few patches of light were still dancing on the surface of the ground. Several white storks were hovering above the tree tops. Suddenly, nostalgia welled up in him and made his heart hurt. He rose and started walking along the rows of graves in the district cemetery. In the waning light, the whole sky was violet. A few minutes later, he entered the war memorial and lit a bundle of incense before placing one stick into the incense burners in front of every tombstone. This is something he had done countless times. Even though it was so long ago, he still remembered being present at this place when the memorial was completed to honour local fallen soldiers. With the permission of the local authorities, he had rigged a small hut at the corner of the graveyard to live in. He dug a well for himself and for watering the plants and bushes in the graveyard. Long ago, he had made up his mind to lead an austere life far from noisy urban centres. "What do fame and wealth mean to me now?" he asked himself at the age of thirty when the country was reunified. He had experienced a lot of ups and downs with numerous trials and many wounds on his body. Many of the people he cared for and loved, including his beloved wife, had laid down their lives for the homeland during the war. Even his four-year-old son had died in an enemy’s bombardment. When everyone was ecstatically celebrating on the day of reunification, he had just wept because he was unable to find his wife’s remains. After all his efforts to find her failed, he had to make do with a simple altar to pay homage to his wife; the only personal item on the altar was an old ivory comb left behind when she paid a visit to his parents. She had a grave site in the cemetery, but inside the coffin there was nothing but a half-torn hammock made from a large section of a parachute given to him by one of her comrades. *** After reunification, he was appointed to the post of manager of the trading co-operative district. Although he was diligent, honest, and very friendly to the members and other locals, he found he was not suited to the job due to his lack of education. He boldly requested to be transferred to another more simple job. "I’m afraid that I am not suitable for my present task here, and I may hinder others’ progress. Therefore, let me do any easier job provided that I might contribute further to society," he proposed. In face of the sincerity of the old man, his superiors accepted his suggestion and nominated him to another post: head of the Section of Labour, Invalids and Social Affairs of the district. In this new position, he was very happy. He felt closer to the martyrs, who had sacrificed their lives for the cause of national liberation. He was always busy with pensioners and disabled fighters, who usually came to him now and again for some cups of tea or just for a chat. When he was asked about his own family, he only smiled. "I’m no longer young on the one hand, and I’m not healthy enough to make women happy on the other; so I stayed alone. Thank you all for your concern for my conjugal life; however, don’t worry for my conditions any more," he said to them. Gradually, nobody asked about his lonely life any longer. When the district cemetery was inaugurated, he suggested that a young man should replace him as section head. What he craved was to reside inside the cemetery to take care of his former comrades and grow some vegetables. "What a good Communist he is! He only thinks of the cause of the Party and the homeland," commented so many locals. In response to his kindness, the district Party Secretary offered him a cabinet that he could use as an altar for paying homage to his deceased wife. "How considerate you are! Living here with the souls of my wife and combatants is quite enough for me," he expressed his gratitude. On Tet and other holidays he was fairly busy with pilgrims. The rest of the year he spent most of his time cultivating crops and caring for the graves. His kitchen garden provided him enough for his own consumption and to supply vegetables for local residents. On the death anniversary of his wife or Tet, he always prepared a dinner for the souls of the dead people in this burial ground. At the major meetings of the district officials, he was also present as an advisor. In every way he was a model Party member. *** Near the memorial gate, the sounds of motorbike suddenly echoed. "What’re you doing, Dad?" resounded the greetings of his adopted son in the dim evening light. "I’ve come home to visit you," he added. Blowing out the light of the paraffin lamp, he returned to his hut. In front of it, he saw a well-dressed forty-year old man with a heavy bag in his right hand. "This bottle of elixir bought in Sai Gon is for you. It’s very good for your health," said the man, putting the gift on the table. "Your visit’s a precious present to me. I don’t need this expensive thing," said the old guardian. "Why didn’t you save the money for your children? I’m quite accustomed to this simple life," he reproached him slightly. Lighting the paraffin lamp and pouring out two cups of green tea, he began a dialogue. "Help yourself to the tea, my dear son. This isn’t merely a visit for pleasure, is it?" he asked the young man. "Dad, you might have already heard my story," he started his account. "I want you to help me out of this dilemma. The local authorities think highly of you. With your statement, my case would be less grave," he implored. After that he picked up the cup of tea and drank it all. "Surely, this son of my ill-fated comrade-in-arms Trong must be involved in a serious wrongdoing," he said to himself. *** What happened to the old man that day came flooding back. "Nam, after my death, try to look after my wife and son and regard him as your own," Trong said to him before he breathed his last during a grim battle. "Yes, I will," Nam promised solemnly. After the enemy was defeated in that battle, he brought Trong’s wife and child to his home so that his wife might take care of them. Many years later, when his wife and son had been killed, he undertook the task of looking after them instead of his wife. "Now that Trong’s no more and your better half and son also died a long time ago, you should live with his lonely spouse. That would kill two birds with one stone," suggested one of his neighbours helpfully. "How could I possibly do that when I think of Trong’s wife as my sister-in-law. Please don’t interfere with my life anymore," he objected. Eight years later, Trong’s wife died of cancer. Since then Truong, Trong’s son, had been loved and cared for by Nam. At the age of fifteen, Truong became a liaison for his dead father’s unit. "Do you still have my father’s Zippo lighter as a souvenir of your ill-fated comrade? If you lost it, I’ll get you a more fashionable one," Truong suggested when he saw the old man smoking. "In fact, I’ve never left it anywhere but in my pocket. If I die, I’ll leave it for you as a token of your father," said the old man. "With such an affection toward my ill-fated father, surely he will help me and I’ll not be found guilty," Truong said to himself. "What crime have you committed?" he asked after finishing half of the tobacco roll. "You must tell me the truth, my son," he encouraged him. "Frankly speaking, I’ve mismanaged the export and import affairs of the district company. The problems can be viewed at different angles, serious or minor, all depending on the way each person views the matter. Please help me this time, dad," Truong entreated. He waited and waited. Now he felt greatly repentant for listening to his wife’s negative opinions about his adoptive father and not frequently visiting him. "How could this upright and honest man possibly justify my shortcomings?" he asked himself. Glancing at the portly, well-dressed middle-aged man sitting in front of him, Nam thought of the baby boy crying when his father was dying. Afterward, when his mother passed away the little boy held her hands and wept. "Mother, why have you left me alone in this world?" he shouted loudly. Everybody standing nearby cried, too. He followed Nam to different battlefields and fought bravely just like his father had. After the liberation, he became a cadet in the military academy. Several years after leaving the academy, Truong became chief of the export-import section of his native district, a position with generous salary. Yet, he was now a debauched official being charged with embezzlement. "Look at this portrait of Uncle Ho!" Nam said, pointing at the picture on the altar. "Surely, you can recognise him. However, few people follow his example to lead a simple life. As for you, you live a life of plenty and squander money of the people, causing huge losses to the State while our country is still very poor. Before, you were unbreakable in front of the enemy, but now you yield to luxury. How can you lead such a depraved life?" he concluded his lengthy speech at last. He buried his head in his hands. Truong was in despair. "Dad, I’m well aware of my mistake. ‘To err is human, but to forgive is divine,’ you see. Please help me this one time. I promise I’ll turn over a new leaf after this incident," Truong pleaded. "Things are not that easy, my dear son," he said resolutely. "If everybody makes a great mistake like you and then shrinks from the consequences of their actions, what would our society become? You must reap what you have sown. As for me, I can hardly help you in this case," he declared. Truong kept silent for a few minutes, then he turned and left. Glancing at his adopted son’s staggering steps through the flame of his paraffin lamp, Nam felt his eyes and nose burn with hot tears. *** Nam became quite ill for the next few days. Three days after Truong’s court session, he was sentenced to ten years in jail. On the day of trial, Nam was not present. He had raised Truong and loved him; Truong had called him father. "How can I have the heart to witness his appearance in court and hear the evidence against him?" mumbled the old man. "He must pay dearly for his wrongdoing." Before the day of the trial, Nam was invited to attend a meeting of the Standing Central Committee of the District Party, so that he might express his opinion about his son’s case. "Everybody is equal in the eyes of the law. If he’s found guilty, he must be punished. I’ve got no other comments at all," he expressed his viewpoint clearly. At the burial ground, sitting in front of his Trong’s grave, he whispered to the soul of his old comrade, "Brother Trong, don’t blame on me. I was unable to take your son’s side. Now that he’s no longer a child, he must make himself worthy of your high reputation. In prison, he would be re-educated to become a good citizen. At this old age I crave nothing, for I have one foot in the grave. I had just hoped our children and grandchildren would enjoy a better life, that’s all." *** The superintendent of the prison led Nam into the waiting-room. "Dear sir, just sit here while I go fetch him and then you can both pour your hearts out to each other," he told the old man. "I don’t want to enjoy any privileges at all. Just behave as usual, please," he insisted. The gaoler smiled broadly. "My beloved father, don’t bear a grudge against me. Your visit’s quite a great event for me," Truong cried, kneeling down in front of him. "How are you today? I’ve brought with me some of your favourite foods you liked the best when you were a teenager. Try to improve yourself more, and you’ll be pardoned ahead of schedule," Nam assuaged his son. On the motorbike taxi ride home, the old kind-hearted man felt quite at ease. All of a sudden, the old man remembered his wife and son Cong. "I wonder whether he's still alive and becomes a real youth or not? If he does exist; surely, he must be like me," he said to himself. Translated by Van Minh Nguồn: http://vietnamnews.vnagency.com.vn/
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