I was born in 1946, in a small village in the province of Hoa Binh. I was the oldest but was lucky enough to have the companionship of two younger brothers and one sister who was the youngest. My father was a poor farmer who was constantly harassed by Dung, the tax-collector. Dung would come lumbering by every month with a stick tightly clenched in one hand and a servant fanning his fat face. My father worked hard trying to earn as much money as he could but he always suffered when the day came for Dung to collect the tax.
One day when I was young, I woke up to a quiet morning. No birds were singing, no insects were stirring, just the eerie silence of the countryside. Sitting up slowly so that I would not disturb my family, I shivered a little as my feet met the cold smooth surface of the pressed mud floor. Shuffling slowly across the room to the fire pit, I crouched down and blew softly, trying to revive the dead flame. Thin tendrils of smoke started rising into my face, making my eyes water. An ember slowly rolled across the pit, catching onto a burnt log. A small flame caught hold of the log and slowly lit the room with a warm yellow light. Placing more logs on the fire, I built the flame until it crackled softly, and spilled warmth around the cold room. Resting on my haunches, I opened up, letting the heat slowly warm my cold body and wake my body to another morning.
Stretching, I walked into the only other room in the house, quietly lifted a battered teapot from the pile of pots and pans on a table, and filled it with water before placing it over the fire. I left it to boil and walked to the door, a wave of cool air washed in as I opened the doors. Dew drops littered the grass, sparkling in the rising sun. A soft mist covered the world as if it was still sleeping. White clouds floated in the sky, gradually moving aside to let the sun come in. Shafts of brilliant light shone through to the ground, brightening as the world woke. I stepped out and looked across the fields. Smoke lazily floated into the sky from chimneys in the distance. The world looked very serene, no traces of the war touched Hoa Binh.
Stepping back inside, I saw my parents were up and about, slowly getting on with the day. My mother worked quickly, getting our breakfast ready while my father packed some khaki’s into his bag. My siblings jostled around with joy, excited after a good, relaxing night of sleep; and I joined in too. We rushed around, pestering our father with gifts for him to take along on his journey. He had told us that he was going on an exciting adventure. He said he was going to help some friends with a little problem.
“Kids, stop harassing your father and come eat.” Mother called to us. We all sat down around our little table and started attacking the food. There wasn’t much, but we all were hungry and knew our parents were trying hard. There was a pot of rice in the center, steam rising from the pot. Around it were bowls of morning glory and baked potatoes, two of the easiest vegetables to grow in our small field. And best of all, was the small pot with little chunks of fish. Although it was simple, it was probably the best meal I have ever eaten. My parents smiled as they watched us devoured the food, happy that their kids were so satisfied.
Sadly, the happiness had to end. After the nice meal, we walked into town. My siblings and I ran up ahead of our parents, playfully kicking rocks on the dry dirt path. When we reached town, my father sighed and heaved his bag tighter onto his back before turning around and giving my mother a kiss. He then squatted down and looked at all of us and said,
“I have to go now kids. I will come back someday but until then, I trust you all to take care of your beautiful mother,” he smiled. Then, turning to me, he said, “Now Nhat, you are the oldest here, you’re gonna have to be the man of the family. Can I trust you to do that?”
Oblivious to the horrors he was to face, as he has shielded us from the truth, I proudly thrusting my chest out and nodded my head, I answered him, “Yes father! I can do it!” He smiled and laughed and rubbed my head before hugging us all good bye. Standing up, he again tightened his grip on the backpack and walked towards the waiting truck. As the truck pulled away, he gave us a final wave and we rushed after the truck.
