The Red Jasmine Revolution

3. Seng Nu and Jin Bu's stories

Seng Nu had arrived in the forest ten years ago, when she was around seven, maybe eight, years old. A late age for first memories. Her first memory was of how dark the forest was. Her second was the ogre. The ogre had sunken eyes as dim as candles in fog and smiled as if smiling was something it had only heard about in stories but never actually seen another person do to them. It's mouth did not have teeth in number or sharpness to eat her whole, but the rows of thick yellow nubs could probably give her a good chew. Her third memory was not an image but a feeling: the rushing sense of calm on realising that it wasn't an ogre at all, but a sweet old lady who walked with a hunch and whose shawl drew long deceptive shadows across her face. "Eat" said the woman, placing a bowl of pumpkin leaf soup on the table in front of her. And Seng Nu ate, her legs swinging off the chair, high above the floor.

She did not know where she came from or how ended up in the forest by Nor Nor's lonesome house. She could speak and use a spoon, so she probably wasn't raised by wolves or tigers. It must have been in a place where the trees didn't grow so closely together to block out the sun. She must have known what an ogre was too and always felt ashamed of her first reaction to Nor Nor. An ogre was a horrible thing, something big, hot and nasty. Nor Nor was small, warm, and lovely.

By the time Nor Nor passed away, Seng Nu was old enough to look after herself. In the afternoons, she roamed the jungle herself, finding new flowers that not even Nor Nor had seen before and climbing up the inside of waterfalls and through caves untrodden for ten thousand years or more. She could lift herself up into a tree with her arms alone. And though she could not run as fast as the forest deer or keep up with the falcons flying overhead, she could outrun the wild boars and chase sparrows until they were exhausted.

Nor Nor had been known to the villagers as the lady in the forest and on occasion she had taken Seng Nu to market with her, but after Nor Nor left, Seng Nu never went again in daylight. She lingered on the outskirts of the camp and the village, only daring to enter when the forest was not giving up its bounty and her stomach was growling. Even then, her visits were quick and cautious. She would dart in when everyone was sleeping to steal a bowl of cooked rice or leftover salads and curries. The villagers attributed the soft padding footsteps that could be heard around midnight to the orphan girl they knew still lived in the forest. Seng Nu was always too far away to hear what they said.

That was why saving the boy was so unusual and why as she approached the gate of the camp, Seng Nu began to feel the frosty grip of anxiety creep up her shoulders. Reaching the main gate she let the boy's body gently to the ground. There was a metal bell set into a tree with a wooden mallet resting in a pocket strap that had been tied around the trunk. She hit the bell three times and then ran behind a tree to hide. Her curiosity had got the better of her.

She looked at the boy. Or was it a man? He must have been around the same age as her. Was she a woman then? She admired his mop of dark hair cut short around the head, the thin nose and those lips too...She wondered what he sounded like. The first buds of a new feeling appeared as tiny knots in her stomach as she began to imagine a conversation with the boy. She had explored most of the forest, but talking to the boy would open up a new world.

The gate stirred and another man came out. For a frustratingly long period of time, he gazed up and outwards into the forest, not seeing the body. The man's mouth gaped open in confusion, as though he was expecting a bird to fly down and ring the bell again. Eventually he noticed the boy lying on the road in front of him.

"Zaw!" what happened, the man crouching down to shake the unconscious body. He ran back to the camp to get help. Four men came this time, carrying a stretcher made from bamboo and banana leafs. They loaded Zaw onto it, but as he did, the bandage around his leg caught on a nub of wood and began to loosen. None of the men seemed to notice. They were not uncaring men, the concern for Zaw was evident on their faces. Yet they carried the stretcher as though they were rushing a log of timber to the camp.