Read Online Bamboo People by Mitali Perkins - Free Book Online Page B

a film in the gym. Soldiers and recruits both.”
    Most of the boys cheer, and we file into the gym. A sheet is pinned to one wall, and someone lights the lamps. We sit cross-legged on the floor, facing the sheet, while two soldiers bring in a film projector and a small generator. U-Tha-Din begins setting it up, muttering under his breath as he twirls buttons and knobs.
    The captain is talking, making some of the boys laugh with small jokes and praising our hard work. His teeth gleam in the flickering lamplight.
    “My sons,” his deep voice says, “our country is putting her hopes into your hands. You, my dear ones, will lead our beloved country to peace and stability. We Burmese will return to school and college, travel abroad, make discoveries, and help make the world a better place for all countries. Our only obstacle is the rebel army—enemies and foreigners who care only about their own needs. Because of them, we waste time spending money on weapons instead of books. We waste time training soldiers instead of doctors and teachers. If we stop them, our motherland can move forward to join the ranks of other civilized nations.”
    Am I imagining it, or did his eyes linger on my face with the words
books
and
teachers?
A hunger to read is gnawing in a corner of my mind. Does he know it’s there? And I can’t keep my heart from leaping at the thought of living in a country at peace. What would that be like?
    Behind us the sergeant is getting more and more flustered over the projector’s wires and knobs.
    “Hurry, U-Tha-Din! We’re running out of time!” the captain barks. The change in his tone shatters the spell of his words—at least for me. Quickly he catches himself and calms his voice again. “Do any of our brave new soldiers have a plan to stop our enemies?”
    Tai raises his hand.
    I can’t believe it. I want to dig my elbow into his side. Does he want to draw the captain’s attention? Maybe he
likes
spending time in solitary and getting kicked. The other boys are as surprised as I am, and whispers travel around the room.
    But the captain stays in propaganda mode. “The street boy has a desire to serve Burma,” he says. “I noticed his leadership potential from the start. That’s why I’ve been hardest on him during this training. Do you have an idea about how to stop the traitors, my son?”
    “No, sir,” says Tai, standing up.
    “Then what do you want?”
    U-Tha-Din has stopped fumbling with the projector and is staring at Tai.
    “I want to watch the film you’ve brought us, sir,” Tai says. Keeping his hands behind his back so that the captain can’t seen them, Tai slaps the side of one fist into the other open palm.
    “I do, too.” The captain flicks a look of impatience at the sergeant.
    Sheepishly, while everybody’s still watching, U-Tha-Din responds to Tai’s clue, picks up the power cord, and plugs the projector into the generator. A square of light flashes onto the screen. Everybody cheers.
    Tai sits down. “Stupid buffalo,” he mutters so that only I can hear. “I was trying to save him. He could have waited to plug it in when nobody was looking.”
    “Not everybody is as smart as you are,” I whisper back. In fact, hardly anybody is. I think of Daw Widow—it’s uncanny how much Tai reminds me of her.
    “Nice work,” the captain tells the sergeant in a mocking tone. “Start the movie.”
    Scenes of the Burmese countryside glow on the white sheet. Our national anthem plays. A woman’s lilting voice describes how the “Kayah” and other tribes are “determined to destroy our foundation of stability and the hope for progress.” Photos of brave Burmese soldiers flash on the sheet, cutting a path through the jungle, marching proudly over a bridge, standing at attention with rifles tilted at the same angle.
    I almost—but not quite—manage to forget the captain’s presence. When the movie is over, he gives another flowery speech, repeating how proud he and the leaders