Read Online Pieces of You by J F Elferdink - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: J F Elferdink
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was contemplating the meaning of Zachri’s statement, he became aware of hearing the strumming and plunking of musical instruments.
During his tour of duty in Vietnam, he had frequently heard these sounds drifting out of huts that he passed during village inspections.
The strange sounds seemed altogether out of place from where they stood, witnessing what had formerly been his company’s camp.
Scanning the horizon, Mark detected movement and what looked like a wisp of smoke over to his right. With a quizzical expression, he pointed out the smoke to his two companions and made a questioning gesture. Zachri’s body language clearly told him to stay put.
As they stood there, Mark watched people he had never seen before, taking their places on what looked like an open stage. He felt himself merging into the assembly of what looked like an extended Vietnamese family. Bob and Zachri were no longer at his side but he had been unaware of their departure. He was drifting…
Finding himself at the memorial service on the 100th day after a boy’s father was killed in the war against the Americans and without realizing that his ability to link up had taken on a supernatural aspect, Mark clearly understood what the boy was saying in his native tongue to a mournful-looking dog as he stroked its head.
“You are still afraid of these people who pet you, Ban. They are our friends and relatives. They have come every week since Father was killed. They bring us food and try to do some things Father did. I think they miss him, too. I try to comfort Mother, but she doesn’t seem to know I’m here. I hear her in the night screaming Father’s name. Do you hear her, too, Ban? She begs the gods to return him to her or to show her the way to him.” The boy stroke d the spot between Ban’s ears before continu ing .
“I wish I could talk to Father one more time. I have many questions. Some members of our family believe that a good Spirit Caller can bring the dead to us. But they say these visits only last a few minutes. That’s not enough. I must know many things to take Father’s place : how to get food and repair things.
“ What will we do if I can’t find work? Father shouldn’t have left us! But we know he had to go, don’t we Ban? Father went to protect us against the Americans. This brings honor to our country and pleases our Ancestors.
“People say Father is now with the Ancestors. How lucky these Ancestors are to see him every day. Some of the Old Ones say they speak with Father. They even put food on our altar for him. How could this be, my dear pet? The food doesn’t disappear and Father’s voice is not heard in the room.” The boy paused as if waiting for an answer before going on .
“For me, the stories told about him are more precious. I didn’t even know Father was shy as a boy until Aunt, mother’s elder sister, told us of a time when Father was younger than me. She remembered a teacher coming to their home to praise Father’s schoolwork and to tell of his kindness to a poor, one-legged student.
“ When Father saw his teacher coming up the dirt path, he went to the goat’s pen and began to remove the straw and dung. Aunt smiled as she remembered. She said that on most days Father would do this only when threatened with a beating. As soon as his Mother saw what he was doing, she knew they had a guest and prepared the tea.
“ When she went outside, Father’s teacher was coming up the footpath. Then she knew why her gentle son was hiding. Aunt told us that Father did not stop being this shy until after he married my mother.
“While Aunt told of her childhood with Father, I was staring into his picture in the shrine. It almost seemed to me that his kind, dark eyes were looking right back at me. His wide nose and high cheekbones are like those of the fathers of my friends; but his smile! It hardly moves the corners of his mouth yet it shines from his eyes which
During his tour of duty in Vietnam, he had frequently heard these sounds drifting out of huts that he passed during village inspections.
The strange sounds seemed altogether out of place from where they stood, witnessing what had formerly been his company’s camp.
Scanning the horizon, Mark detected movement and what looked like a wisp of smoke over to his right. With a quizzical expression, he pointed out the smoke to his two companions and made a questioning gesture. Zachri’s body language clearly told him to stay put.
As they stood there, Mark watched people he had never seen before, taking their places on what looked like an open stage. He felt himself merging into the assembly of what looked like an extended Vietnamese family. Bob and Zachri were no longer at his side but he had been unaware of their departure. He was drifting…
Finding himself at the memorial service on the 100th day after a boy’s father was killed in the war against the Americans and without realizing that his ability to link up had taken on a supernatural aspect, Mark clearly understood what the boy was saying in his native tongue to a mournful-looking dog as he stroked its head.
“You are still afraid of these people who pet you, Ban. They are our friends and relatives. They have come every week since Father was killed. They bring us food and try to do some things Father did. I think they miss him, too. I try to comfort Mother, but she doesn’t seem to know I’m here. I hear her in the night screaming Father’s name. Do you hear her, too, Ban? She begs the gods to return him to her or to show her the way to him.” The boy stroke d the spot between Ban’s ears before continu ing .
“I wish I could talk to Father one more time. I have many questions. Some members of our family believe that a good Spirit Caller can bring the dead to us. But they say these visits only last a few minutes. That’s not enough. I must know many things to take Father’s place : how to get food and repair things.
“ What will we do if I can’t find work? Father shouldn’t have left us! But we know he had to go, don’t we Ban? Father went to protect us against the Americans. This brings honor to our country and pleases our Ancestors.
“People say Father is now with the Ancestors. How lucky these Ancestors are to see him every day. Some of the Old Ones say they speak with Father. They even put food on our altar for him. How could this be, my dear pet? The food doesn’t disappear and Father’s voice is not heard in the room.” The boy paused as if waiting for an answer before going on .
“For me, the stories told about him are more precious. I didn’t even know Father was shy as a boy until Aunt, mother’s elder sister, told us of a time when Father was younger than me. She remembered a teacher coming to their home to praise Father’s schoolwork and to tell of his kindness to a poor, one-legged student.
“ When Father saw his teacher coming up the dirt path, he went to the goat’s pen and began to remove the straw and dung. Aunt smiled as she remembered. She said that on most days Father would do this only when threatened with a beating. As soon as his Mother saw what he was doing, she knew they had a guest and prepared the tea.
“ When she went outside, Father’s teacher was coming up the footpath. Then she knew why her gentle son was hiding. Aunt told us that Father did not stop being this shy until after he married my mother.
“While Aunt told of her childhood with Father, I was staring into his picture in the shrine. It almost seemed to me that his kind, dark eyes were looking right back at me. His wide nose and high cheekbones are like those of the fathers of my friends; but his smile! It hardly moves the corners of his mouth yet it shines from his eyes which
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