South Wind Changing

I woke up under a dim oil lamp and felt some warm juice in my mouth. I swallowed it gradually. A weathered old man held a spoon, looking at me calmly as if he had done this many times before. I didn't know where I was. I wasn't wet, but wrapped in a torn blanket and lying in the middle of a big wooden plank in a hut with no walls. The old man's eyes looked at me tiredly. His thin grey hair was in a bun as he smiled at me with mercy showing in his wrinkled face.

"How do you feel, son? You are on an island called Hon Khoai."

"Do you know what time you found me?"

"At around one o'clock last night, when I went to the ocean to check my fishing net. You were unconscious. I found another three bodies washed onto the sand, too."

I lifted my head and tried to sit up, but was unable to.

"Don't move, son. You are still very weak. Let me feed you."

He scooped the rice soup into the spoon and put it in my mouth. I swallowed thankfully and wondered why he was by himself. I didn't see anyone else around, or any houses either. After he finished feeding me he said, "Get some rest, son." He hopped up from the side of the wooden plank and smiled at me, his gums showing. "I'm going to the shore to check my nets again to get some fish. I will take them to the village to have son cone sell them for me. I'll be back in about an hour."

I nodded my head. When he shuffled out of the hut, the sun hadn't fully risen yet. He didn't wear a shirt, just shorts with a bamboo bucket on his shoulder. In the corner of the hut I saw a little stove with a small pot on it. The fire had settled down but it was still red. The lid on the pot was popping from time to time as the steam escaped. There was a little mud partition surrounding half of the stove, built at a ninety degree angle to prevent the wind from blowing out the fire, and on the floor there were some paddles, a fishing net, and buoys lying around. I felt much better after drinking the soup but my head still felt heavy. The birds landed on the branches, making morning songs. Surrounding the hut were trees, and a little sand path that led somewhere. Beyond, I could hear the tide drawing in and out. A pale wind blew, bringing in mist from the ocean, making me feel refreshed. I slept again until the old man came back.

"Are you doing okay now, son?" asked the old man.

"Yes, sir." I sat up to prove it.

"That's very good, but you need more food and rest."

He went to the stove to get me another bowl of soup.

"Eat it, son. It's good to eat little by little because if you eat I a big meal all at once you will get sick. How long were you without food on the ocean?"

"Not that long, sir. Only one day and one night."

"Did your boat sink?"

"I jumped off the boat when they captured it and towed us back."

A chill crawled up my spine as I remembered being in the water - the coldness, the empty silence in an ocean of night and nowhere.

"I will need some people in the village to help me bury the bodies this morning. Maybe their boat sank or maybe someone robbed them, then threw them in the ocean. Do you know that I bury dead people every day? This spot is right for the current and that's why it brings all the objects here," he sighed.

"How long have you lived here, sir?"

"All of my life."

"Where is all your family?"

"I never had a family, son. My parents died in a storm when they were fishing. I have lived by myself until now. Before, I lived at the head of the village. Later, I moved here since I like it better. I have seen so many young people dead in the water, and I never know where they come from."

He seemed like he wanted to talk more, as if he hadn't spoken with anyone for a long time, or maybe just felt comfortable talking to me. He pulled a rock over for himself squatted on the ground, sharpened his knife, and started to mend his net.

"My occupation is fishing but since I moved here, I have become a grave digger. Life is so funny somehow," he grinned at me, showing some of his teeth. His mouth looked like a young child's, when the teeth were first coming in.

"Did you catch a lot of fish this morning, sir?"

"Half a bucket, including some crabs."

"How far from here to land, sir? "

"A half day or maybe closer. Depends on the wind. Do you plan to go back this early, son? Stay for a few days until you get well. I will arrange a trip for you."

He seemed to understand what I was thinking.

"That's a wonderful thing for you to do but I don't have any money or anything to pay you back."

He set down his fishing net, stepped over the stove, took the pot off, put a kettle on, and fed the fire. His thin hands reached for the bucket with water for washing the dishes, and dumped it out.

"Money doesn't mean anything, son." he said, his eyes watching the fire. "It means something if you know how to spend it right, like a vehicle to take you places. But I don't need any. I think it depends on each person, on how you look at things."

"Are there any police around here, sir?

"They come to the village once in a while to check on us, but it's easy to hide in these parts."

Three bare-chested boys about fifteen years old came out of the trees holding their shovels.

"Ong Bay, are you ready to go? My father cannot help you because they already, went fishing, so my mother asked us to come," they called to him.

"Yes, I'm ready. It's good that you help me because it would take me the whole day to dig three graves," Ong Bay said. "I have some fish here. If you feel better you can cook something with it. I'm going to bury these people and then come back. Oh, there is rice in a jar beneath your bed," he told me as he stopped mending his net. He took his shovel and paddle out of the hut with the children. I heard the kids asking about me as they all disappeared at the end of the narrow trail. I got up slowly, standing for a moment to make sure I had enough strength to begin making lunch. I cooked the rice and made some fish soup, first chopping some small branches and poking them through the fish mouths to bake them.

After I finished cooking I walked around to familiarize myself with the area. I followed the sound of the ocean and came to the water, where the sun shone vibrantly. Even though it was hot, the wind and the air were active, making me feet cooler, like someone applying ice to my forehead for fever. I looked along the golden dunes with their grass blowing in the wind like hair. How had I made it here? Far off, a line of trees ran along the water to show me land existed there. The ocean was so gentle now; I walked on the wet sand, letting the water touch my feet again. I saw hundreds of tiny crabs in making little castles for themselves everywhere, only to have the water move up and sweep them away. They ran back and rebuilt their castles after the water withdrew, and then the water came again, over and over, endlessly. I thought of the Da Tra Xe Cat Bien Dong, a story about life as this tiny crab knew it: no matter how hard you struggled and fought for life, you would have nothing when you died. It was a story my mother used to tell me, and I thought of home. I wanted to die at home. I saw the old man and the children walking towards me. I met them halfway. They threw their shove down to wash them in the ocean. The youngsters were laughing and the water rippled on the sand. The old man walked over to me.

"It feels good to breathe this air. I wish people could realize that. It's so simple but it's hard for people to know."

"I understand what you mean, sir. I just don't know what people want anymore."

"Are you from the city?" one of the boys asked me. "Is it big? Are there a lot of stores and people?" He slapped his smooth face into the water and shook it like a wet dog, then looked at me, dropping, his eyes wide.

"It's not a big city, but it's bigger than your village," I said.

"Are there a lot of cars? I have never been in the city. I grew up here in this fishermen's village and I come to the dock every day to watch the boats come in and out, but I don't know where they go," the boy said. "I asked the merchants where they were from; they said they were from the city. They brought a lot of candles and a lot of stuff to sell. But now I don't see the merchants come here anymore."

"Yes, there used to be many cars in the city but not anymore. It's much better for you to live here than in the city," I said.

They looked at me with surprise.

"Why is that?"

"It's hard to explain to you, but when there are fewer people then there are fewer problems."

"What do you mean, problems?" asked another boy.

"Like myself"

"You mean they threw the city people in the ocean?" he asked.

I didn't know how to explain to him so I said, "Something like that."

"Are the dead people your relatives? Are they from the city too?"

"No, they're not my relatives, but they were in the same situation was."

The old man began to walk along on the rippled sand in the hot sun. We followed in his footsteps along to the path, where coconut trees danced in the wind, throwing their shadows over us.

"Why didn't they swim like you?"

"Maybe they didn't know how to swim or it was too far from here and they couldn't swim any longer. They never reached the shore."

The kid dragged a shovel on the sand, leaving a track behind him.

"Are you a good swimmer, then? Do you want to swim with us tomorrow?"

"Sure, but I'm not a good swimmer."

He ran ahead, yelled to the other kids walking with the old man and said that I would swim with them.

We arrived at the hut and ate our lunch, and then the children went back to their village.

"It's good to have the children come here to keep us company," I said to the old man.

"Yes, they come often and help me with a lot of things around here," Ong Bay cleared his throat and said gently. "Tomorrow evening they will come to help me set the net up when the current rises. At that time there will be more fish looking for food near the shore." He looked pleased.

"We can catch a lot of them."

The afternoon sky was clearer, the air mild. The trees and shrubbery seemed very content with the weather. Ong Bay took out two buckets and a yoke.

"I'm going to water my garden. Do you want to come?"

"Yes, I can help. I used to do this when I was in the labor camp."

I carried one bucket for him as walked through the garden to the well. He threw a small container with a rope down the well and drew up enough water to fill two buckets, which he then carried on a yoke slung over his shoulders. With the two buckets dangling, Ong Bay walked into his garden and began to water the greens, cucumbers, hot peppers, and beans, which were growing there in little furrows. He shuffled between the green rows, tipping both buckets back and forth o that water sprayed from their spouts, just enough for each plant. The sound of the water as it touched the dry soil was like someone drinking, the soil cracking, smacking its lips. The odor of soil rose in the air like rain on a hot day. He walked so gently, even though the yoke was heavy on his shoulders, and his body was very flexible as he stepped. He finished the first half of two furrows just as the water ran out. He came back to the well where I stood without showing any sign of fatigue. I threw the buckets into the well to fill them up for him.

"Let me help you to water this time."

"Sure, go ahead." he smiled at me and gave me the yoke. I did it exactly the, way he did: lifted it up, walked about three steps, and collapsed, dropping the buckets. The water splashed everywhere.

"It's not easy, huh, son?" Ong Bay said. "Maybe you are still weak."

"It's too heavy."

He took the yoke with the two buckets from me and hoisted it back onto his shoulders to continue watering his garden. I saw his dark skin and muscles, alive and healthy. The sun's beams became weaker as it went down slowly, the shining rays disappearing in the afternoon sunset. I stood in the middle of the garden, looking out onto the sea, and at purple flowers blending with weeds and tall trees, and I wished that I could live here. After we finished watering the garden, we stood at the well and filled the buckets, then took a shower. The water was a little chilly but the afternoon was beautiful. We came back to the hut and lit up the oil lamps. Ong Bay gave me some of his clothes to wear, and we made dinner and ate together. At dusk, he told me to sleep on the wooden plank while he slept on the fishing net, which he fixed into a hammock. I blew out the oil lamp.

The next day the children came in the evening when the sun had just settled on the horizon. We carried the fishing net to the ocean and placed it on the sand as the water began to rise slowly The sun went down, reflecting beautiful color on the quiet water. We jumped into the water and swam while Ong Bay checked the net, sitting on the sand watching us. He puffed the cigarette that he ad rolled himself, enjoying it. When night came, it didn't seem so dark and it was still easy to do things. The water was at high tide. We carried the net into the water, one of the boys holding one side of the net, and Ong Bay, the other, walking further and further out into the sea until I could see only the top of his head. His head shook as he held the net, keeping himself oat with only his strong legs. We followed him out but when my feet couldn't reach the bottom I felt like I was falling into an abyss.

"This is too deep. I'm going back to the shore," I shouted to the boy.

"Are you scared?"

"Yes. Do you want to go out there with Ong Bay or come back with me?"

They swam easily; nothing bothering them.

"I'm coming back with you," one of them said.

"I'm going with Ong Bay."

We separated, going in different directions. Ong Bay was moving further and further out until I couldn't see him. The net kept moving out; finally it stopped. We waited there about forty-five minutes until Ong Bay came in about one hundred meters away from us. We held the bottom of the net, pulling it in while Ong Bay did the same on the other end. One boy held a bucket, running after us. Finally we pulled the net up onto the sand. There were fish and crabs caught in it.

I shouted, "Wow, you caught a lot of them!"

We began to pick them tip, putting them in a bucket. Some crabs bit flapping fish to fight for a space, as they jumped all over the bucket. After we finished emptying the net, Ong Bay swam out again, working on in the night. We had quite a catch of fish, and so we went back to the village, to one of the children's family, so that Ong Bay could ask them to sell the fish for him when they went to the dawn market. We spent the rest of the evening there with the family, drinking tea. We talked about the fish season and I learned a lot about the weather: when was a good time to set out on the ocean to avoid a storm, what month was best for fishing and what was the most peaceful month on the sea. I stayed with Ong Bay for four days, helping him with his daily activities. On the fifth day, around noon, one of the kids ran to our hut with news.

"The police just arrived at the village. I just came to let you know."

"Okay, boy, go home. If anybody asks about anything or if you see any strangers in the village, tell them you haven't seen anyone."

The kids ran back to the village. Ong Bay, his eyes showing his concern, told me to follow him . He guided me to the shore, then to a rocky area too steep to climb. He showed me the entrance to a small cave.

"Stay here until I come back to get you. I'm going to fish close by."

"Yes, Ong Bay."

I climbed into the rough, dark hollow.

He went back to the hut to gather his net and got one of the boys to help him, then came back to the spot to begin fishing gain. The tide was getting low. Soon, a group of police came down the beach in their yellow uniforms, and approached Ong Bay. They were close enough that I could hear their voices.

"Did you see any strangers around here lately?" one asked.

"Yes, I saw three strangers about five days ago but I don't know their names. Do you want to arrest them?" answered Ong Bay.

"Where are they? What do they look like?" The VC were excited.

Ong Bay cleared his throat. "I buried them in that stand of trees," he said. "Why don't you go in there and take a look."

Ong Bay held his cigarette on his lip while he talked, puffing it in and out like an old train. He pointed to the direction where he had buried them. Five policemen looked at him with doubt.

"Oh, you are talking about the boat that escaped five days ago, which we sank."

Have you seen anybody alive?" all the VCs chimed in.

"No, I didn't see anyone. Maybe if you stay here longer you might meet some more dead people."

The policemen shook their heads with a look of disgust and walked away in the direction of the bush where Ong Bay pointed his finger. They thought he was a crazy old man, but they wanted to check the spot where he had buried them to see if it was true. They came to the spot, searched around, then walked back to the beach on the opposite side, disappearing at the verge of the tree range. I considers the conversation between Ong Bay and the police and thought about myself. It seemed like being on the run had become my life. When could I settle down and live a normal life like other people? Would I ever see my family again? Who knew? I sighed. I would only visit. I stayed in the cave until evening, when the boy came to tell me everything was all right, that I could come out now and go back to the hut to have dinner. The next day, Ong Bay took me to the dock to ask the passenger boat captain to give me a lift back to the mainland when lie went to the market.

"It's better for you to go back now, son."

He put some money in my pocket. I didn't know what to say, I knew I that I would miss something wonderful here, even though I had known him for less than week. The tide was going out; the boat had to leave the dock before it got stuck.

"Let's go, let's go!" the owner shouted, releasing the rope from the pole.

I stepped down into the boat without saying anything. Not even a "thank you" to Ong Bay. He seemed very understanding about my situation. He never asked about my family or background. Suddenly the children ran over yelling.

"Thang Chong, Thang Chong!" A dead body floating on the water.

Everybody turned and looked at the river to see the body drift against the current. It was a pregnant woman.

"If you can hear me, stop right here. I will bury you!" Ong Bay muttered.

Indeed the body seemed to hear him, for it quickly made its way directly to the bridge where he stood, stopping right beneath him. Suddenly, from the mouth of the body, a cloud of blood spilled out, a silent "thank you" to the old man for helping her.

The owner pushed the boat out and the engine started. I stood on the deck waving to the old man and the children. Their picture blurred in the distance. A tear rolled down my cheek as the boat chugged further away from the dock, slicing into the ocean.