House Without Walls
Page 5
like the police did back home?
We are all glued to the ground.
Nobody moves a bit.
If there was a fly,
we could hear it
humming by.
40 | THE EVIDENCE
A shorter soldier mumbles something
to the tall soldier,
who orders all our men to stick out their hands.
Then they check our men’s hands
one by one.
I am in a fog.
What does it mean? I wonder.
Without saying a word,
the taller soldier strikes the captain across the head
with the butt of his rifle.
We all let out a collective cry.
We are terrified.
Children start crying
in fear.
The soldier’s gun comes down
onto the captain’s head
once more.
He falls onto the sand.
Blood trickles down from his head.
He looks half dead.
I turn my head away
and cover Dee Dee’s eyes.
I hear the captain moan.
No one would dare to help him,
not even his own family.
Everybody is afraid.
The tall soldier is ready to hit him again.
A cry comes from the crowd,
“Stop it! Stop beating him!”
The old lady whose niece died drags herself
toward the soldier.
“Tell them!
Tell them our captain has a kind heart.
Tell them our captain let our niece stay on the deck
instead of throwing her into the water after she died.
Tell them, tell them!”
I don’t know if the solider understands her,
for the lady uses her own body to block the captain
from the taller soldier.
“Are you all right?” the old lady asks the captain,
whose face is covered with blood and sand.
“Why did they only beat you up, but not any others?”
“Maybe they saw the black oil on my hands,”
the captain replies.
The lady tries to get him up.
The lady’s husband comes up.
Uncle comes up.
Together,
they carry the captain
to a shady area where he can rest,
away from the sun.
His family comes to him.
The sailors come to him.
Within half an hour,
two soldiers accompany the captain to the hospital.
His family is very pleased.
The old lady concludes,
“At least they still have a conscience.”
41 | THE WARNING
The soldiers record our names,
genders,
and nationalities,
as well as family units.
They warn us not to wander around
but to stay on this beach.
They say they will shoot
if any of us tries to escape.
I still have no idea
where we are.
Some say we have landed in Malaysia.
Some say we have landed in Indonesia.
Some say, “Who cares where we have landed?”
42 | THE SALTY RICE
The ropes connected to our boat
have long been untied.
Eventually, our boat has drifted farther away.
People say it is a good sign.
No one will miss it.
No one will use it.
The sailors dig a big hole in the sand
to cook the rice
with salty water.
We share the same bowls again.
I eat only a bite;
Dee Dee eats two bites.
The old lady in black complains
about the salty rice.
The sailor fights back,
“You cook if you can find fresh water!”
The old lady in black keeps quiet.
43 | WATER
In the late afternoon,
someone says
he has discovered a deserted swimming pool nearby,
and there is still a little water in it.
We all swarm there.
Uncle’s family, Dee Dee, and I follow the other people.
We go through some coconut trees,
still feeling like
we are rocking in the open sea.
When we see a small amount of water
in the lowest end of the abandoned pool,
all our spirits pick up.
Except for Dee Dee’s.
He is tense, hiding behind me,
afraid of being seen by the two soldiers
who are guarding us with guns in their hands.
Uncle notices.
He whispers to Dee Dee,
“Don’t be afraid.
They won’t harm you.”
Dee Dee whispers back,
“What if they find out
I tried to mess up the boat?
They won’t beat me up like the captain
was beat up by the mean soldier?”
“No.
They won’t beat you up.
Not every soldier is mean.
They are just trying to keep us in order.”
Dee Dee then
comes out from behind me
but still keeps an eye on the soldiers.
The water looks green,
and there are tiny wormlike mosquito larvae in it.
My lips turn down in disappointment.
Uncle says to us,
“Drink it anyway.
You need water to survive.”
I feel chilled
as I scoop up a handful of water
and see there are tiny brownish creatures
swimming inside my palm.
I don’t think I can do it.
Uncle says,
“Just close your eyes and drink it.”
I force myself
to swallow two sips of water.
It is cool and energizing,
despite the tiny creatures;
despite the pain and blood from my cracked lips.
And I tell Dee Dee to do the same.
We leave the pool quickly
to make room for the latecomers.
A couple of sailors carry a bucket of water
for the other people who can’t come.
Dee Dee is not harmed by the soldiers.
He waves at them
when we are leaving.
Surprisingly,
one nods and
the other one smiles.
44 | THE FIRST NIGHT
We find places
underneath palm trees for shelter.
We hang our damp clothes
across nearby shrubs.
The pleasant wind is strong
and feels good.
It dries our clothes in no time,
but it leaves white lines of salt as souvenirs.
The grown-ups do not talk.
The children do not play.
We are exhausted
and lie on the sand
with a piece of plastic as our bedsheet.
We are so pleased
that we are safely on land.
Dee Dee falls fast asleep right next to me,
but I can’t sleep,
even though I can stretch out my legs.
Looking at the big moon half hiding
behind the palm trees,
I think about my family back home.
Are they already in bed?
I want to tell Ma and Ah Mah
we have met a noble family;
I want to tell them Daigo could be in jail;
I want to tell them I miss
their homemade wontons,
the freshly cooked rice,
&nbs
p; and the vegetables we have
at every meal.
I want to tell them
many, many things,
until
I can’t see the moon.
I can’t hear the strong wind.
45 | THE RED CROSS, OUR SAVIOR
I am awakened
by the noise of engines the next morning.
So are Dee Dee and Uncle’s family.
We are uncertain
what is going on
until
we see six people come out from some trucks,
with Red Cross armbands
wrapped around
their upper arms.
We cheer.
Our saviors are finally here.
We heard back home
that Red Cross workers are good people and
that they have kind hearts.
We feel safe when we see them.
They tell us to form six lines.
Each worker is in charge of one line.
They distribute a bag full of food to everyone,
even to a tiny baby.
I feel like I am getting lai see from Ah Mah
on Chinese New Year.
Inside the bag
is a five-day supply of food:
rice,
tea bags,
coffee,
crackers,
canned sardines,
canned curry chicken,
canned beans,
and instant noodles.
We even get toilet paper!
Everyone starts to eat,
either with fingers
or with two thin twigs as chopsticks.
Like a starved prisoner,
I greedily stuff crackers and sardines
into my mouth.
I taste the blood from my cracked-open lips;
I taste the salty tears
streaming down my cheeks.
Sometime later,
the Red Cross trucks drive away with
the pregnant lady
and a sick little girl,
whose mother accompanies her
to the hospital.
The workers and a soldier
help bury the old couple’s niece.
The old lady is so sad,
but she is very pleased that
her niece has a dry place to rest.
And Uncle finds out from the Red Cross worker
that we are standing on Malaysian soil.
46 | GOING TO A REFUGEE CAMP
We obey the rule
not to wander away.
We rest in the shade
all day
to restore our energy
and wait
to be sent to a refugee camp.
While the children,
even Dee Dee and Nam,
pee and do their job anywhere they please,
we hide among the thick trees
away from the others to relieve ourselves
or change clothes
after a sponge bath.
The third day,
several big buses come
to take us to a refugee camp.
We cry, “Finally!”
and applaud,
while the old ladies drop down
and give thanks.
We get into the buses by groups.
I make sure Dee Dee and I
are in the same group
with Uncle and his family.
“Are we going to America now?”
Dee Dee asks as we get into the bus.
“No,” Uncle says.
“We have to wait for a while
in the refugee camp.”
“Why?”
“There are so many people and
so many things they have to prepare.”
The bus, which has two soldiers
sitting in the front with guns,
travels down a paved road.
There are huge rubber tree plantations
and tall palm trees on both sides.
A couple of dark, tanned workers
are cutting the palm seeds
with long bamboo poles.
The land is green and lush and peaceful,
like my home
used to be.
47 | THE PLACE WE ARE GOING TO SETTLE
The soldiers guard us
as we walk down a narrow dirt path
into a wooded area
where other refugees,
about three or four hundred,
have already camped.
They have made “houses”
by constructing frameworks
of sticks
and covering them with
grass mats.
Others have just used plastic sheets on top of the sticks
with other plastic sheets on the ground
as their simple beds.
Colorful clothes hang everywhere
on ropes between the trees.
Children are running around
while the grown-ups sit in small groups talking,
sipping tea,
drinking coffee, or
smoking.
They raise their heads and smile,
as if saying, “I am glad you made it.”
So here is the place we are going to settle.
48 | HOUSE WITHOUT WALLS
I do as Uncle and Auntie do.
We look for a space that is flat and dry.
We pull out the dead, scattered weeds
with our bare hands.
We ignore the ants and bugs crawling all around us.
We break off long green saplings
in the woods.
We make four holes in the ground
and insert the four saplings for the frame.
We tie the corners of my plastic sheet on top of the saplings
for the roof.
We spread out Dee Dee’s sheet on the ground
as our bed.
I say,
“I call it our
‘House Without Walls.’”
Dee Dee and Nam cheer.
“We like the name—House Without Walls.”
49 | GETTING INFORMATION
Uncle goes around
to get information
regarding the interview
from the ones who have been here already.
Back home
we heard that all the boat people,
like us now,
would have the same goal—
the same anxious desire—
to be interviewed
so their names would be on the waiting list.
They hoped that someone would sponsor them
to start a new life
in their new land.
When Uncle comes back,
he tells us that this is just a temporary camp
and that we need to get into the regular camp
before we can be interviewed.
So we need to be patient.
He warns Dao and me,
“They said some men
have been bothering the young girls.
You go to the latrine together
and never go alone.”
He also finds out
there is a man
who will come once in a while
to help us purchase our necessities,
but with gold only.
My heart tightens.
Dee Dee cries,
“We don’t have any gold!
What should we do?”
Uncle assures us
we can share their essentials.
He just signs up for what we need.
The goods will be here in a couple of days.
I thank him
from the bottom of my heart.
50 | THE STINKY LATRINES
The swiftly fabricated latrines
are about three hundred feet away from the campsite.
Yet the stinky smell has already welcomed us
in the bree
ze from far away.
There are two holes dug into the earth—
one for men
and one for women,
next to each other—
and they are shielded by woven dried grass mats.
There is a rule that
everybody should use the latrines,
and they are forbidden from toileting elsewhere,
including the children.
Whoever disobeys and is caught
must cover up the two holes
and dig two new ones
and separate them with mats
for the new latrines.
51 | THE FRESH, COLD WELL WATER
Uncle borrows a bucket from someone
who has already settled here.
We follow the narrow dirt path
made by the refugees
to a well
near a few houses on stilts.
People around the well are arguing
about someone breaking in line.
Two soldiers who are guarding us next to the well
do not interfere in the argument.
Uncle tries to settle the dispute
by letting the eldest ones
stay in the front of the line,
for not everyone had water to drink
after their meal.
The line quietens down.
Uncle shares the water he has drawn up
with us.
We scoop it with our hands
and drink it scoop after scoop,
because the water doesn’t have any creatures in it
like before.
I never could have imagined
what a scoopful of fresh, cold well water
would do for me!
52 | THE FIRST NIGHT SLEEPING IN OUR HOUSE
The first night in the campsite is dark,
except for the soldiers
who are on duty in the shed
and a few early comers
who have flashlights.
We lie down carefully,
afraid our legs
will kick down the posts
of our “house without walls”
and cause the plastic roof
to collapse.
We use our raincoats as cover.
Auntie reminded me
that it would be chilly
in the middle of the night.
The mosquitoes buzz around our ears,
but we don’t have any insect repellant