for the wedding?â I asked.
âHush now, noisy girl, or I wonât finish the story.â
âBut heâs a gangster. They must have a lot of food.â There were gangsters in the refugee camp, men who controlled bands of boys who roamed the tents looking for things to stealâclothing and jewelry, knives and machetes, coconuts and the shells of nuts, small lizards that could be eaten, and once a hand grenade with a broken pin. The gangsters were scary and could steal your food if they caught you alone, if you were small, if you showed fear. âPlease, tell me. Please, please, tell me what they ate.â
Finally Ma sighed and rolled onto her back, folding her hands over her flat stomach.
âChicken curry and ginger-shred chicken and beef noodle soup and cellophane noodles with tiny shrimp on top. Threebowls each of steamed white rice. Everyone eats an entire mango each.â
Satisfied, I licked my lips and let her continue the story.
The mother begins to dress and act like a rich woman. She neglects the animals and leaves the chores to her children. She spends all her time in the city with the gangster, wearing fancy clothing, eating fancy food, talking and drinking with the gangsterâs friends. She acts as though she has no children at all. When she comes home, she sees her three daughters waiting in the doorway, calling out to her for food. She decides to get rid of them once and for all. The next day she takes them into the jungle and leaves them there. She sprinkles rice in a looping circle so the beasts of the jungle will be sure to find them in the center. Then she goes home and leaves them to their fate
.
Lying next to Ma under the mosquito net, I knew how the little girls must have felt as they huddled together in the dark that fell all at once like a curtain, so that the sun suddenly disappeared in the jungle and only the absence of light remained. The girls could hear the cries of the hungry animals rising to hunt. Panther cries, tiger growls. The leaves rustled with snakes. The air buzzed with bats. Something high-pitched shrieked. The sisters held each other and sobbed.
I knew because I remembered what it had been like when we had to walk through the jungle to escape. When we fled the village controlled by the soldiers and walked at night together, Ma and Sourdi, Sam and the twins, all of us were quietâquiet like mice, like rabbits, like small vulnerable creaturesâwhile the jungle roared around us.
âDonât worry,â Ma said. âDonât cry. Itâs just a story.â
âI know,â I said, wiping my eyes on the back of my hand. âWhat happened next?â
The spirit of the forest hears the little girls crying in the dark and takes pity. It isnât right, itâs against the natural order of the world, little girls alone amongst beasts. The spirit sends the wind to confuse the wild animals, disguising the sweet fleshy scent of the girls with jasmine and poison oleander, with stinkweed and durian, with rotting moss and fetid marsh
.
The next morning, shafts of sunlight fall through the canopy of leaves like golden swords. The sisters rub their eyes and see the rice their mother has strewn about the jungle floor, glowing white as pearls. They eat the rice and follow the trail home
.
When their mother sees the girls emerge from the jungle, calling her name and running toward her, she is filled with a liquid rage that sloshes against the backs of her eyes. She picks up a hoe and chases them back into the jungle. Terrified, the girls run and run and run until they are completely lost
.
The spirit of the forest does not know what to do with three little human girls. At first the spirit simply tricks the animals to keep them away, but the girls grow hungry and cry. They grow thinner and thinner, their bones threatening to pierce their skin. The spirit tries to leave them food: meat fresh from a tigerâs conquest, seeds still in
âHush now, noisy girl, or I wonât finish the story.â
âBut heâs a gangster. They must have a lot of food.â There were gangsters in the refugee camp, men who controlled bands of boys who roamed the tents looking for things to stealâclothing and jewelry, knives and machetes, coconuts and the shells of nuts, small lizards that could be eaten, and once a hand grenade with a broken pin. The gangsters were scary and could steal your food if they caught you alone, if you were small, if you showed fear. âPlease, tell me. Please, please, tell me what they ate.â
Finally Ma sighed and rolled onto her back, folding her hands over her flat stomach.
âChicken curry and ginger-shred chicken and beef noodle soup and cellophane noodles with tiny shrimp on top. Threebowls each of steamed white rice. Everyone eats an entire mango each.â
Satisfied, I licked my lips and let her continue the story.
The mother begins to dress and act like a rich woman. She neglects the animals and leaves the chores to her children. She spends all her time in the city with the gangster, wearing fancy clothing, eating fancy food, talking and drinking with the gangsterâs friends. She acts as though she has no children at all. When she comes home, she sees her three daughters waiting in the doorway, calling out to her for food. She decides to get rid of them once and for all. The next day she takes them into the jungle and leaves them there. She sprinkles rice in a looping circle so the beasts of the jungle will be sure to find them in the center. Then she goes home and leaves them to their fate
.
Lying next to Ma under the mosquito net, I knew how the little girls must have felt as they huddled together in the dark that fell all at once like a curtain, so that the sun suddenly disappeared in the jungle and only the absence of light remained. The girls could hear the cries of the hungry animals rising to hunt. Panther cries, tiger growls. The leaves rustled with snakes. The air buzzed with bats. Something high-pitched shrieked. The sisters held each other and sobbed.
I knew because I remembered what it had been like when we had to walk through the jungle to escape. When we fled the village controlled by the soldiers and walked at night together, Ma and Sourdi, Sam and the twins, all of us were quietâquiet like mice, like rabbits, like small vulnerable creaturesâwhile the jungle roared around us.
âDonât worry,â Ma said. âDonât cry. Itâs just a story.â
âI know,â I said, wiping my eyes on the back of my hand. âWhat happened next?â
The spirit of the forest hears the little girls crying in the dark and takes pity. It isnât right, itâs against the natural order of the world, little girls alone amongst beasts. The spirit sends the wind to confuse the wild animals, disguising the sweet fleshy scent of the girls with jasmine and poison oleander, with stinkweed and durian, with rotting moss and fetid marsh
.
The next morning, shafts of sunlight fall through the canopy of leaves like golden swords. The sisters rub their eyes and see the rice their mother has strewn about the jungle floor, glowing white as pearls. They eat the rice and follow the trail home
.
When their mother sees the girls emerge from the jungle, calling her name and running toward her, she is filled with a liquid rage that sloshes against the backs of her eyes. She picks up a hoe and chases them back into the jungle. Terrified, the girls run and run and run until they are completely lost
.
The spirit of the forest does not know what to do with three little human girls. At first the spirit simply tricks the animals to keep them away, but the girls grow hungry and cry. They grow thinner and thinner, their bones threatening to pierce their skin. The spirit tries to leave them food: meat fresh from a tigerâs conquest, seeds still in
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