Bamboo People

by Mitali Perkins

  My heart lifts. Somehow Chiko managed to convince the right person that he was telling the truth. Those big words he used must have helped.

  “Thank you, Tu Reh,” the president continues. “We don’t forget what your peh’s doing right now for our people. And that you’re his son. Be seated.”

  I slide back onto the bench, relieved. Maybe I’m finally done with this whole mess. But across the way, Sa Reh is still glowering. And in front Bu Reh is muttering something to the man sitting beside him.

  “The next question, then, is what to do with the soldier now that he’s here,” says the president. “Any suggestions?”

  24

  Bu Reh raises his hand and gets permission to speak. “Once he’s able to leave the medic’s hut, he’ll find out more about us and our plans. Spy or no spy, we have to get rid of him now.”

  “Yes, but how?” the president asks.

  “Kill him!” That same voice rings from the back of the church. “He’s Burmese!”

  A few people cheer here and there.

  The grandfather stands up suddenly. He’s a small man, but suddenly the room grows quiet. “May I speak, sir?” he asks the president.

  The president nods.

  Slowly the old man turns to face the crowd. “As you’ve heard already, this soldier is a boy, forced into the army against his will. Now he’s suffered the loss of his leg. Doesn’t God command us to defend all who are weak, my dear friends, not just those who speak our Karenni language? We must think carefully about how we treat this young stranger. If we give way to hatred, we won’t be any better than our enemies. I could no longer call myself a Karenni if we killed him.”

  This is what Peh was trying to tell me in the jungle, I realize. It’s what we need to hear again and again, each time we’re attacked, oppressed, beaten down. Suddenly I can’t stop myself. “They can’t control us!” I call out, leaping to my feet. “We are the Karenni!”

  And then I know exactly what to do. Saluting the flag in the front of the room, I start singing the national anthem. My voice is terrible, but it’s loud, and Ree Meh and Mua join in by the third word. The pastor grabs his guitar to strum an accompaniment. Soon all of us—the president, Bu Reh, and even Sa Reh—are standing, saluting, and singing our Karenni song in unison.

  When we’re done, the room explodes in loud cheers. The president has to rap the table several times before people start to sit down.

  He waits until it’s quiet. “Thank you for reminding us of how we must live, my father,” he says to the old man.

  “But the question remains, my fellow Karenni. What shall we do with our stranger?”

  I can hardly believe it. Like magic, the pronoun has changed—Chiko isn’t just mine anymore. And the word soldier has turned into stranger.

  But Bu Reh raises his hand. “We’ve been studying the maps. There’s a path not too deep into the jungle that the Burmese have been taking lately. A couple of men can carry him there—my son and I will go along as defenders. We could leave the soldier and come back within a couple of hours.”

  “Not a bad idea, Bu Reh—” the president begins.

  “Are you crazy?” It’s Auntie Doctor. “That boy will die in the jungle on his own. The Burmese might never find him. Animals will tear him to shreds. It’s just the same as killing him.”

  “What do you suggest, then, Doctor?” Bu Reh asks.

  Auntie Doctor strides forward. “I’ll leave in the morning. The boy can come with me. He’ll be fitted with a replacement leg at the clinic in the next camp and walk across the border himself.”

  The president shrugs. “That’s impossible, Doctor. You can’t carry the boy, and you’re the only one with clearance to leave our camp. We’ll have to go with Bu Reh’s plan.”

  Someone taps me on the shoulder. Ree Meh, Nya Meh, Mua, and my sister are behind me. Nya Meh gives me a pleading look. Ree Meh is clasping Mua’s hand, but her eyes hold mine for a long second. And my sister? It’s late for her, way past her bedtime, so she’s fighting to stay awake. Her lashes are long on her cheeks as she blinks hard.

  Suddenly my hand shoots into the air. One decision leads to another, right, Peh?

  “Yes, Tu Reh?”

  I stand again. “The doctor can borrow my mule, sir,” I say.

  Sa Reh leaps to his feet. “What? That’s the only mule in camp!”

  The president looks doubtful. “She does belong to you, Tu Reh. But do you really want to do this?”

  “Auntie Doctor can bring her back the next time she returns to our camp,” I reply.

  “What would your peh say? And have you cleared this with your mua?”

  Mua rises slowly, with dignity. “We trust our son’s decisions,” she announces, her voice clear and strong. “Tu Reh’s a smart boy, just like his peh.”

  The grandfather’s old hand is warm on my shoulder. “A man for the Karenni!” he says in my ear.

  The vote for the doctor’s plan to transport Chiko to the clinic is almost unanimous, except for my former best friend and a few disgruntled faces here and there.

  A man for the Karenni! As the meeting adjourns, Peh’s voice in my head repeats the old man’s words, making it easier to endure Sa Reh ignoring me as he strides out the door. I catch sight of Nya Meh slipping out to follow him.

  Auntie Doctor comes over to clasp my hand. “I’ll need to attend to a patient or two tonight. Go to Chiko quickly, Tu Reh. We don’t want to keep him in suspense. And I’d like to get an early start in the morning. The sooner we get him out of here, the better.”

  I walk Mua, Ree Meh, and my sister to the hut. Nya Meh is perched on the bottom rung of the ladder to our house. Sa Reh is standing beside her, but as soon as he spots us he disappears into the darkness.

  Mango is there, and I stroke her soft muzzle. I’m going to miss her, but I’m trusting that she’ll come back when it’s time for Auntie Doctor to visit our camp again. “Is he still mad?” I ask the healer.

  “It’s going to take time,” Nya Meh answers.

  “We’ll all have to get up early to send the doctor and the boy on their way,” Mua says as she starts to climb the ladder. “Tu Reh, go tell that poor boy the news.”

  But I don’t leave right away because Ree Meh is lingering at the foot of the ladder. “Did you know you were going to offer your mule, Tu Reh?” she asks.

  “No. I thought about it once before, but … well, I’m glad I said something now.”

  “I thought of it, too, but Nya Meh told me to shut up and not say anything. ‘He needs to think of this himself,’ she told me.”

  “So I’m one of her patients, too, I guess.”

  “She can’t help healing everybody in sight. Born that way, I guess. If only she could heal herself.” Ree Meh sighs. “She’s so good it’s hard sometimes. I can never catch up. Good night, Tu Reh.”

  She climbs up a couple of rungs, but I grab the hem of her sarong before she can disappear. “I like a girl who isn’t perfect,” I say.

  She looks down at me and laughs. “There you go again, Mr. Charming. Are you saying I have flaws?”

  “Lots of them,” I answer. “So do I. That’s why I like you so much.”

  “Okay, okay,” she says. “I get it. Me, too. Now let go of my sarong and go tell Chiko what’s happening.”

  I whistle a love song on the way to the doctor’s hut. It’s loud, but I don’t care who hears me.

  25

  Chiko is bolt upright in his cot, waiting for me. “Tu Reh! Finally! What did they decide?”

  I’m happy I have good news; I can’t imagine telling that face that we were going to lug him into the jungle and leave him there. “They’re letting you go to the camp to be fitted with a prosthetic. You leave tomorrow.”

  “They are? I am? But how will I get there?”

  “You’ll ride my mule. The doctor will clear you at the checkpoint.”

  He slumps back against the pillows, takes his glasses off, and wipes his eyes. “You … you saved


  my life, Tu Reh. And now you’re giving me your mule, too. How can I ever repay you?”

  “Tell your people to stop killing Karenni,” I say, unrolling my mat to keep my own face out of sight. My voice sounds gruff, but that’s only because I don’t want to give away what I’m feeling.

  “I’ll tell everybody in Yangon. You can count on that.”

  “Good. And Mango’s just a loan, mind you.”

  “I’ll take good care of her, I promise.”

  “Let’s get some sleep,” I say. “You’re leaving early in the morning.”

  “Good night, Tu Reh.”

  “Good night, Chiko.”

  I’m up at dawn, but Auntie Doctor is already getting Chiko ready. We gather to see them off—the grandfather, my sister, the girls, and Mua, who has prepared food for their journey.

  “I’ll tell my own mua what a good cook you are,” Chiko tells Mua.

  This makes Mua happy. “She will be happy to see you,” she manages in broken Burmese.

  Chiko hands me the books he’s been reading nonstop while he’s been recovering. “Could you please return these to your teacher? I loved them. They made me forget everything for a while. And when I was finished, I had just enough courage to face—to see—to go home like this.” He gestures to his stump.

  “Your family will be grateful to see you alive,” the grandfather says. “Those who love you will receive you just as you are.”

  Chiko doesn’t look convinced, but he takes the grandfather’s outstretched hand. “Thank you,” he says. “I’ll never forget you.”

  “Go in peace, my boy,” says the grandfather.

  Ree Meh, Nya Meh, and I manage to get Chiko on Mango without jarring his injured leg. He sits there precariously, looking a bit uneasy.

  “I’m out of balance without my shin and foot,” he tells Nya Meh. “Sometimes it feels like I still have them. I keep having to touch my stump to remember that they’re no longer there.”

  “They’ll fit you with a good replacement,” she says. “You’ll be walking again in no time.”

  “I’ll call that one my Karenni leg,” he tells us. “It’s going to prove to everybody how good you’ve been to me.”

  We walk slowly to the river, leaving the grandfather, Mua, and my sister behind. Chiko is unsteady up on Mango—several times he has to clutch her mane or one of our shoulders to keep his seat.

  “Wait,” I say after he’s grabbed me for the fourth time. We’re near the river now, so the bamboo is close by. I take my knife from my belt and cut a long piece of it, almost the same length as the one I usually carry.

  Chiko takes it and leans his weight on it every now and then as Mango carries him to the gate. “It’s perfect,” he says.

  “I’ll be back soon to do some more training,” Auntie Doctor tells Nya Meh. “In the meantime, read that medical book I left behind. And I’ll keep this animal safe, Tu Reh. I promise.”

  “Thank you, Auntie.” Nya Meh looks up at Chiko with a smile. “Be well, my brother.”

  “Thanks to you, I will,” he replies.

  “Good-bye, Chiko,” adds Ree Meh.

  “Take care of Tu Reh,” he tells her, and grins at me.

  And then it’s my turn. How strange that it’s hard to say good-bye.

  “I hope we see each other again, Tu Reh,” Chiko tells me, clasping my hand tightly.

  “I hope so, too. God be with you, Chiko.”

  “Good-bye, my brother,” he replies, leaving me with a gift of three words, all in Karenni.

  26

  Auntie Doctor was right; life settles down in camp after Chiko leaves. Even though we don’t have Mango to help, the work on the girls’ hut moves quickly. I keep an anxious eye on the sandy shore across the river. Peh and the team should be returning soon.

  The taller bamboo is on the far side of the river, so Ree Meh and I have to cross it to cut the few pieces we need. We’re smack in the middle of the water when we see Sa Reh and the healer, wading side by side in the shallows.

  Ree Meh and I are in the deepest part of the river, the current swirling around our waists, when Nya Meh turns and comes toward us. She’s moving fast, as though she wants to get away from Sa Reh, but Sa Reh follows her.

  “I’ve been trying to convince your sister to keep away from this traitor,” Sa Reh says to Ree Meh once they reach us. “This coward won’t protect you. The Burmese will take you, and he’ll stand by and do nothing.”

  Ree Meh lifts her chin. “I can protect myself,” she says. “And Tu Reh isn’t the only one who saved that boy’s life. My sister did her part as well.”

  “Your sister’s a healer,” Sa Reh says, his voice getting louder. “She had no choice. But your boyfriend is a Karenni man. He should have killed that soldier.”

  I couldn’t let Ree Meh keep fighting my battles with Sa Reh. “I won’t let anybody else decide when it’s my time to kill,” I tell him. “Or even to fight. A Karenni man chooses for himself.”

  Once again Sa Reh’s fists are clenched. “Are you preaching to me? I’m telling you to stay away from these girls.”

  “I won’t! I told Peh I’d protect them, and I’m going to keep doing it!”

  “I’ll protect them from now on—not you!”

  With a roar, he lunges toward me. His big hands grasp me and push me into the water. I try to twist away, but he’s bigger and angrier than I am. He’s trying to hold my head under the water, but I manage to struggle out of his grasp.

  I catch my balance, panting for air. “What do you want from me?” I shout. “I did what I thought was right. It was right. I’d do it again.”

  “Traitor!” Sa Reh yells, coming at me again, angry as the wild bull elephant in the jungle.

  I brace myself to meet him.

  A voice rings out: “Stop!”

  It’s Nya Meh, and for the first time since I’ve met her, her tone is harsh.

  Sa Reh obeys. So do I.

  Again and again the word rings out, like the warning screech of a crow: “Stop! Stop!” But Nya Meh herself can’t seem to stop. She covers her face with her hands, begging us to stop, over and over again, until at last her voice dwindles to a broken whisper.

  Ree Meh holds her close. Then Nya Meh says something in a low voice to her sister. Ree Meh looks up angrily. “She says you sounded just like they did when they used to fight over her.”

  Sa Reh flinches as if the words have slapped him.

  I look down at the water to hide my shame.

  Nya Meh’s body is shaking like bamboo in a storm. “Come, sister,” Ree Meh says, and she helps Nya Meh to shore. They head for our hut, their wet sarongs making them move slowly.

  With a low groan, Sa Reh turns and begins splashing up the river, disappearing around the bend. Slowly I walk home.

  Ree Meh stops me at the bottom of the ladder. “Your mua is taking care of her, Tu Reh,” she tells me. “You can’t come up.”

  “Are you angry at me?” I ask.

  She shakes her head. “No. Just sad for my sister. But this is needed.”

  She climbs back up, and I stay at the foot of the ladder as it grows dark, listening to Nya Meh’s low, trembling voice speak, fall silent, and then speak again. I can’t make out the words. This must be the confession that Ree Meh’s been hoping for, but I’m not sure either sister can bear it. I can hardly believe that Sa Reh and I have brought it about with our ugly fight.

  After a while I leave and make my way to the site of the girls’ new hut. It’s almost done, but the place still needs a door and some windows. I slash bamboo in the last light of dusk and drag the branches to the hut as the full moon rises over the hills. I work for an hour or so, cutting, fitting, and tying bamboo to make a door.

  As I’m struggling to lift it, I hear someone approaching, and then Sa Reh is beside me. He puts his strong shoulder next to mine, and together we manage to heave the door into place.

  “Couldn’t have done it alone,” I say.

 
“Sorry I spit at you,” he says. His voice is so low and gruff I can barely make out the words, but I do.

  “You’ve got to quit that betel nut habit,” I say. “Girls don’t like it.”

  “I know. I’ll try.”

  We frame the windows through the rest of the night without saying much more, handing each other pieces of bamboo, rope, and tools. We finish before dawn and rest on a low rise behind the hut, admiring our work. The door and window frames fit snugly, but the hut still needs to be weatherproofed for the rainy season.

  Sa Reh hands me half a banana. “Is she okay?” he asks.

  “I hope so. I think so. She never talked about what happened. Not until now.”

  “She … she doesn’t hate them.”

  “I know.”

  “She saved that soldier’s life.”

  I pop the last piece of banana into my mouth, relishing the sensation of Sa Reh’s easy company—something I thought I’d lost forever. “She called him ‘my brother.’”

  “I like her,” he says. “I—I wish I were half as good as she is.”

  “Who doesn’t?”

  The air is still; the roosters are beginning to sing. The first light lines the dark hills with gold.

  “Tu Reh, look!” my friend says, pointing across the river.

  On the far bank, coming down the trail where I’d carried Chiko, are four men. Their leader plods wearily in front, but he holds his head high as he reaches the sandy shore.

  I recognize him immediately.

  “Peh!” I leap to my feet.

  Sa Reh and I race to the shore on this side, my heart soaring. The sun sparkles across the valley and the roosters sing in chorus.

  Peh is splashing through the water—he sees me, and his smile is brighter than the sun.

  There’s so much to tell, so much to hear.

  I stand proudly on this side of the river, waiting for Peh to join me.

  A rickshaw carries me home. My heart starts beating faster as we get closer. Mother doesn’t know I’m coming—there has been no way to get the news of my discharge to her before my arrival.