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IVinotchkaosca

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umbling calmed the soul. To Selo, thiswas knowledge that came with oldage. He would sit outside on the front ladder,his bare feet resting on the last rung, andmumble. Words would push up from betweenhis lungs, past his tonsils, and work their waybetween his toothless gums. His lips spatthem out in small explosions. There were anynumber of things to mumble about: some-times he told a story sometimes he justfollowed the movement of the sun from eastto west, sometimes he grumbled about thehouse, the road, the harvest. Today he madesounds. It was summer, but enough waterremained in the irrigation canal to feed theseedbeds. Viewed from the house, the canalwas a shimmering distortion in a brown palmof land distorted by heat waves.The two boys playing in the yard had grownused to Selo's mumbling. The older, nine yearsof age, drew a circle on the gtound with hisdirty forefinger. He was not quick enough, andtwo drops of sweat fell from his brow into thecircle. Against the soil's glitter, the sweatdropswere blaclg shallow holes. He studied them foramoment; then, carefully, he covered theholeswith tlvo chipped marbles-one-orange, oneblue. Just outside the line he had drawn, hisbrother's toes dug into the powdery earth. Theolder boy ignored his brother just as heignored old Selo.

Grandfather's bad humour, their grand-mother used to say, had started with thewithering of his right hand. The bird-claw thatresulted had not been her fault. As a matter offact, she had saved his life. The claw wasnothing more than an extraneous addition tothe whole affair-regrettable but unimpor-tant. She had saved his life. Because of thedebt, the boys' memories of the old womanwere rimmed with guilt. No one had beenable to help her when her turn to die came.It took place at the height of the monsoonseason. The house was so watedogged thebamboo posts had split their brown skins andwere mottled green. A translucent pair ofleaveseven sprouted from the middle node ofthe bamboo holding the kitchen wall up.Grandmother, who had complained of chestpains for weeks, had a coughing attack sofierce she sounded like a joyous frog. The fitlasted for hours. It would take her by thethroat and snap her small head back and forth,while bits of matter-red. flecked withfoam-ejected from her mouth and dartedaround like tiny bats. Mother, a Lysol-soakedrag in her hand, chased the steaming bats andshouted for the rest of the family to keepaway. It was hard worlq but she would notallow anyone to help. Finally, grandmothergave a terrible series of yelps. Her eyesdisappeared into her head. She fell, cutting


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L94 Broun Rlaerher brow on the pallet's edge and overturningthe chamber pot.Since that time, the boys had known that aman's interior was dark-red and grey, spongyand foamy. This was wisdom uncovered bydeath: a man's interior was uninteresting,made up of tissue so dark-red it turned blackin the gaslight. A man was neither good norbad inside,only uninteresting.Old Selo, on the other hand, could notremember that evening. One day his wife wasthere; the next, she wasn't. After thinkingabout it, old Selo decided that death was a sinof omission where the dead forgot to live. Itwas all as simple as that. The dead didn't doan)'thing. The living mumbled like him,shouted like his daughter-in'law, cursed likehis son, cried like his grandsons, or turnedinto beauties like his granddaughter' She wasffieen years old and had dark brown skin andstraight black hair reaching down to the smallof her back. With her large eyes, her nicemouth, she could have a future. Seloglancedat the sackspiled near the shed-brown iutesacks fat with rice grains. It had been a goodharvest.His claw itched. His left hand caressed it.Like all the men in the village, he had indulgedin man-talk in his youth. He and the other menhad been members of a supposedly nationalsociety of peasants.They had gathered in theempty schoolhouse during evenings and hadmade plans for the future. It had been excitingto think of cramming the landlord's genitalsdown his throat. It had been exciting to talk ofsnaring and roasting his dogs grown viciouson a diet of meat. The dogs had chased oldSelo once, when he had tried to deliver thelandlord's share of the harvest himself.

In ,high hopes, Selo had had the society'sinsignia tattooed on the skin web between histhumb and forefinger. Other men in thevillage carried the blue sickle on theirbodies-on the chest, above the heart; on thethigttt on the skin web between thumb andforefinger. It betrayed them when the land-lord's goon squads started kicking housedoors down. The massacre went on for

months, with the odor of putrid flesh minglingwith the harvest fragrance. The rivers seemedfull of crocodiles then, with all the bodiesfloating in the waterThe landlord's men hadn't reached theirvillage yet, but old Selo's wife was alreadyscreaming that he was a dead man. Taking hiscourage in hand, he whetted his fan-knife andprepared to excise the tattoo. At the lastmoment, however, he remembered hisfriends'bodies fertilizing the fields. He dropped theknife. His wife cursed him for three hours andfinally lost her patience. She heated a silvercoin in the charcoal stove and with herblackened firethongs dropped it on Selo'stattoo. The house posts shook with the oldman's bellows, and disconsolate screams an-swered him from a cloud of ricebirds hoveringover the field. The trick worked. When themetal cooled, his wife ripped the coin offSelo'shand, deftly stripping the flesh underneath.Selo, angered by his wife's triumph, wrappedhis hand in a rag. He refused to let anyone lookat the wound.

:The boys waited for the vehicle to come intosight before rising to their feet. It was a jeepwith a trailer and a dust cloud streakingbehind it. When the ieep stopped before thebamboo gate, the dust cloud blew towards thehouse, forcing the boys to avert their faces.Old Selo remained ashe was and tasted grittysoil on his lips. Four men iumped offthe jeep.All had tooled leather gunbelts around theirwaists. One wore t buri hal-'Your father home?" the man with the hatasked.The boys looked at each other. Finally, theolder one shook his head."That's all right," one of the men called out."The rice's here, an1uray."The hatted man scratched his nape andfrowned."Listen now," he said to the boys. "Tell yourfather he left dnly thirty sacks of rice for thepropietario. He should have left ffiy. Then, heowes me ten more for the seeds and five more


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Whtte Ocean 795for the weeder. So, we're taking thirty-fivesacks now. Can you remember that?"The boy felt he should say something butcould not find the words for what he wantedto say.He gave a shrug and nodded.'Okay," the man turned to his companions."Ioad up."One of the men was strong enough to lift anentire sack by himself. The other two workedtogether. As they moved back and forth, thepile of sacks sank closer and closer to theground."Come on, come on," the man with the hatsaid, "it's tricky business. Never know whatthese peasantswill do."He tugged at a sack impatiently. Old Seloscuttled off the ladder, drew something hang-ing on the nearest house post. He rushedtowards the men. The boys shouted. It wasenough warning. The man with the hatevaded the downward slice of the machete.The blade buried itself in the topmost sack'sbelly Old Selo tugged at the hilt, and goldkernels bathed the jute sacks. Without hurrythe man with the hat seized old Selo's wristand wrung the weapon from him. Reversingthe machete, he struck old Selo's chest with

the hilt. A cry escaped the old man. His spinehit the ground and the man with the hatpinned him with a foot."It's okay," he said to his men. "I'll keep himquiet. Hurr'' up now. I don't want mofetrouble."When the jeep with the trailer disappeared,the boys helped old Selo back to the ladder.He seemed to have forgotten the incident andresumed mumbling, his lips speckled withblood. The boys looked at each other. Theywalked to the gate, squatted down, andwaited.It took some time for the horse-drawn rig toappear at the road's rise. It moved so slowlythat the boys could hardly keep still. They lostcontrol when they recognized their motherand sister among the passengers. The olderboy was aware of his incoherence, but impa-tience pushed the words out of his mouth.The afternoon's storv had to be told. Still

shouting, he watched his mother climb downthe rig and help his sister manoeuvre a basketpast the dirty wheel. The horse, its flankscovered with sweat and whipmarks, snorted;its skin trembled.The mother tried to wipe off the bloodfrom Selo's mouth, but it had dried and wouldnot come off. She released her skirt's hemimpatiently and pushed the old man up theladder. Meanwhile, the two boys menaced thebasket their sister was carrying. She threat-ened them with a fist. They shied away,returned and ffied to peer into the basket,sending it banging against the girl's shins. Sheshouted at them to leave her alone. There wasnothing in the basket but food. The distressingnews set the younger one wailing. Motherleaned out of the window and ordered him tostop or else. . .Inside the house, old Selo had clean lipsagain, his daughter-in-law having used a wetrag on his face. He watched as she preparedthe evening meal. She held an eggrlant downwith her left hand, forefinger extended andpressed against its end, while her right handstroked through the eggplant's flesh with aknife. Her fingertip was never more than a

hair's breadth away from the blade as t slicedthrough the vegetable. She grumbled as sheworked. She had warned old Selo's son. shesaid, but he would not listen. He kept talkingabout the law. But what in god's name had thelaw got to do with people? Iaws were paperand ink; they were kept in filing cabinets inoffices in town and city buildings. Now, if itwere the law of the sun or of the seasor of theearth, that would be an altogether differentmatter. People's laws had nothing to do withpeople.The girl smiled at herself in the crackedmirror on the wall. Her eyes sought out thephotograph of an actress pinned to the wall.Like her, the actress had limpid eyes and asmall mouth. The girl sighed and lifted theweight of her hair from her nape. God willing,she would have a future. She smiled again,then picked up a thin blue towel draped on abattered bamboo chest.


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196 Broun Rlaet"Where are you off to now?" her motherasked n her usual harsh voice."To the canal," she said, "to take a bath.""Thke the boys with You."The girl crinkled her nose. "Why do Ihave to?""Because you're no longer a child," came

the an$il/er. "Because of what could happenwhich must not happen.""It's not as if I take my clothes off" the girlmuttered, but her voice had lost it conviction."Take the boys with you.":

They tried to keep the canal's lips as bare andhard-packed as the summer fields, but greenthings somehow managed to make their waythere. They took root overnight, dipping hairtendrils into the water: bizarce flowers ofpurple and yellow, stringy weeds, and themimosa pudica. The girl hated the mimosa forits deceptive shyness. At the least touch, itsleaves folded and drooped but only to barethe thorns on its stems.The boys stripped immediately and divedinto the water. They swam, transformed intosleeh brown puppies with iridescent limbsand bodies. The girl watched. Then she tooentered the water. First she washed her hair,scrubbing it with crushed herbs and leaves.Then groping beneath the water, she cleanedthe soft secrets of her body. Her fingerscupped her unfinished breasts. Sighing, sheleaned back in the water and lifted her face tothe sky where the sun was beginning to cool.It was nearly dusk when they left the canal.The boys shared the weight of a pail of waterwhile the gid shivered in her wet clothes. Atthe backyard's edge, the girl abruptly signalledfor the boys to stop. From the house came herfather's growls, her mother's shrilling. Theboys'eyes widened. They turned to the sister,but something in her face made them lookaway.A clatter of tin plates erupted from thehouse. There was the sound of a slap, a sharpcry. Then, the creaking of the ladder assomeone came down in a hurry. The girlshowed her teeth.

Dinner was ready. The mother was pickingup plates from the floor. She pointed to thetable. The boys smiled and carried the pailinto the kitchen. The girl changed her clothes."Rice!" the older boy exclaimed."Not gruel.Real rice."'Might as well eat it," the mother said. "I twon't last very long."Shedrowned the rice mound on Selo'splatewith soup. A twinge of anger shot through thegirl. It was a shame and a waste. Grandfather

couldn't take anything solid anyway. But thatwas the way it was, the way it had alwaysbeen. Even with eating, one took a vow akinto marriage-one ate as the others ate, forricher and for poorer.Old Selo waited for the table to be cleared.It seemed hardly possible that the day wasover, as the day before had been over. The sunwas born in the east, died in the west;the dryseason came and merged with the monsoonseason. Flood and drought. And all throughthe changes of time, men worked in the fields,holding on and holding out, coaxing the earthinto yielding the golden kernels, so tiny theyseemed like babies' gasps.Why couldn't thesun and the rain clouds be nailed to the sky?Instead of men. the elements should hold on.Hold on, as his wife used to say.Obediently, the old man lowered his bodyto the mat spread out by his grandsons. Hisbody loosened its moorings and entered thesea of sleep. He dreamt, his dream meltinginto the dreams breathed out by his daughter-in-law and his grandchildren. One dream nowpossessed the house, each member of thefamily glving to it. There were scenes of joy, amorning rimmed with hope, a child's universeof a toy.'Vh'wh-what?" the granddaughter mur-mured.Something was in the yard. It moved, itsbulk rustling against the nipa fronds of thehouse's walls. In the darh the boys'eyes werepitted stars. The gid looked at her mother; theolder woman was also awake, listening in thedark Before she could say anything, the doorblew open so violently it tore its upper rope


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hinges. In the doorway, a man's shadow stood,his head and shoulders dusted by moonlight.Resentment came into the room. The rnanhalted, prowled about the accusing air of hisfamily His insulted soul gave him pride. Son-of-a-goat,he said, he was aman, and a man hadrights. So the law decreed. Circling, he cameupon a face. His grief balled itself into a fist.Without a word, he smashed a blow into hiswife's face.Something heary struck his back and clungto his neck with little claws. The man beat atthe thing on his back. He swept it off andthrew it to the floor. He began to kick at it. Butthe white bat shrieked in his daughter's voice.The man stopped. The shadows were un-ravelling themselves. There were his wife, hissons, his daughter and old Selo, his father,curled like a gnome in the corner. He foundthe door and lost himself in the night."Stop him," the mother cried out."Not me," the grrl said. "He kicked me. Theson-of-a-bitch kicked me.""Don't say that," the mother said. "Followhim and see he's all right.""He's drunk""Do as you're told," the mother said, dab-bing at the blood on her mouth. "It's curfewtime. If the soldiers find him, everlthing willbe over for sure."The girl did not move.'Please follow him." the mother said. Shewas still stroking her mouth. "Please. We haveto-to hang on."The girl kicked at a pillow."All right," she said. "But if he kills me, itwill be on your head.""Thke your brother with you," the mothercalled out.

The older boy was already running after hissister. He caught up with her in the yard. Shetook his hand, murmured something thatsounded like everything had to be over, andled him to the gate. Moon-touch had trans-formed the world, and the two halted beforethe alien landscape. The boy felt he wasgtrding on silver water. From a distance cametheir hther's voice. He was cursing the night.

..He'smaking fior the town,,, the girl said."Son-of-a-whore," rhe boy rnuttJ."cl .H.,tthit a checkpoint for sure,,,The girl broke inrhiseyesartinsff:[#::.H:H-,11strangely lit objects of the nigfrt wort,O. nregirl shied suddenly,bumping i,ito t ". Lrott er."A snake,"she said."[ don't seeany{hing.""[ heard it . Never mind. Hurrv.,,It was too late. Three shadows broke thesilver road. The father s/2S nrinn -^-^^: .thewo ordiers::'"*ff":Tff l.':U?:;get drunk where and how it pfeasej nim.particularly when rhe harvest *" iriJolrr.d,yes,.str,.pafticularly . . . One of the ,oiOi.oreplied by pummelling him in me riUs anOstomach.'pests," the boy whispered and spat on theground."Sssh," he girl held her brother,s hand. ..Itwill be all right. He pays now. Don,t worry,,"pay for whatt They,ll take him to Ur.barracks now."..Sssh.I'll take care of this. Go home and tellSothe_r everything's aU right. I,U U.i"g' t i_home."

"Sure."..Believeme. Trust me. I,ll get him ouL,,"How?"The girl did not answe?. ooking at her, theboy saw her lips had pulled U*f t..-i..nwere bare. tn the moonlight, her mouthseemed full of fangs._

She entered the roolsecondassed;."i "o"ff "J#t?_:claimed: "Well vtwhavewe hereT_There were two of Aem_one seatedbehind a varnished table, rhe o,f,L"lr, "anvas bed The frst held " "ot nooi_Awore htigues; the second was in tr, urrO.r_shirt and pants and waspolishing hir;;;.'?lease, sn," the glrl sai4 "^y"frrh;::.;The room smelled of wax L"O 0.,..g."r.Light spiling from a nakd Oub overieaOturned the floor bloodclot red-


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798 Broun Rluer

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"\Mhich one is he? The men here are soactive it's hard to tell who has sired whom,"the sergeant said."He was picked up, sir, just a while ago'"The girl swallowed. In a softer voice, sheadded: "He was drunk, sir."She told herself that nothing had changed inthe room. The bulb still swung from thefrayed cord; the light was as harsh as before'There was no reason for the hair on her napeto stand.'\Mhat do you want with him?""I've come to take him home."'Child, it's not as simple as that. First, wehave to take him to the judge. Violatingcurfew, disturbing the peace. And so on. Thenwe'll have a trid. Since it's Saturday,we haveto wait till Monday to even begin. The judgewill either fine him or send him to iail or both.It may take weeks, months-maybe years.""Please, sir, my mother's waiting.""I suppose you can PaY he fine.""\0fledon't have money," she said, flushing."But we have rice."The soldiers looked at each other. The

sergeantsaid there was nothing to be done. Asa matter of fact, the girl herself was violatingcurfew and he was tempted to arrest her' too.The soldier on the cot laughed.'You want to see him?"

She nodded. The sergeant stood up andmotioned for her to follow."We locked him in the toilet," he said.It was an outhouse. The father rose fromthe cement floor when the door was opened'He bleated at the sight of his daughter."Go away," he said. "Go away. Tell yourmother I'll be all right. Go on home."His left eye was swollen. A blue-grey lumpglistened on his forehead. The girl swallowed

again.She stretched out a hand to him but thesergeant pushed her away.He closed the dooron the father's voice.'Well, he stays there," the sergeant said, "atleastuntil he's sentenced."The girl stood before the table."Please, sir," she said, "I must take himhome."

"Can't do. Not unless you pay the fine. Doyou have money?"The girl bit her underliP."No? Maybe you can pay some other way.What do you think?" The sergeant turned tothe other soldier. "Can she pay some otherway?"The man laughed. His eyes glittered."I should think so. She's old enough. Andpeasantgirls are strong.""How about it?" the sergeant asked. 'You

owe your father that much."The girl's mouth opened."Any self-respecting daughter would domuch more. How about it? We'll give him abed, make him comfortable while you'repaying. At dawn, we'll give him to you. Howabout it?"The other soldier yawned. The girl lookedat the lightbulb. If only the light had not beenas harsh."How about it?" the sergeant repeated."There are only four of us here. You're lucky."

Sometime in the night, the toilet door wasopened and the father was taken out. He wasglven a cot in the barracks. Gratefully, hestretched his limbs, his sore muscles creaking.Sleep came to him, but he was awakeneddmost immediately. He had turned over andhad nearly fallen off the cot. It must havefrightened him, for his heart beat furiously forseveral minutes. His fear was transformed intoa woman's cry. After listening for a fewseconds, the father decided it was a batshrilling in the dark. He went back to sleepand was awakened tgain, this time by a dog'sbarking. He lay with his eyes open, looking atthe shadows of the strange room. Fromsomewhere in the building came a man's lowlaugh.It was morning when he rose from the bed.The sun was on the brink of rising. A soldiercame and led him to the office. [t was emprythe blankets on the cot neatly folded. Thesoldier pushed him towards the door."I can leave?" he father asked.The soldier smiled and nodded. He pattedthe father on the shoulder. A smile cracked


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Wbtte Ocean 199the man's dry lips. He bounded through theopen door. The cool of the morning eased hecreases on his face. Under a kamachile tree,his daughter waited, a scarf tied about herhead."\Mhat are you doing here?" the fathershouted.'tVaiting," she said, dropping her eyes."Vaiting fof you."He looked at herwith suspicion,but shedidnot seem to have changed."Come quickly," she said."Mother's waiting."She stepped away from him. She turned tooquickly and stumbled on a pebble. The scarfslipped off and when she bent to pick it up,her skirt rose, revealing a bruise at the back ofher left thigh. The father looked away.'Vaiting," he mumbled. "That's anotherword for it. Waiting." He gave a short bark oflaughter.Thin wisps of smoke-dewdrops evaporat-ing-curledfrom theground. The airwas cooland camied the scent of roasting corn. Thefather's head turn, his eyes scanning the fields.A softness lay in his chest. His daughter walkedin front of him and he was seized by an impulseto tell her how he had first met her mother.

'\Vell, now" he said. clearing his throat, "Isuppose we have to tell. Tell your mother.""Let's not talli." she said.He quickened hispace, eavinghis daughterbehind. At that instant. he sun touched a treeso violently that ia branches crackled. Thetree absorbed the light. Soaked through, itbegan to gisten. rerurning the sun's warmth.Open-mouthed, the father looked at the tree.He was still looking at it when something hardand jagged smashed in the back of his skull."I have the right," the daughter said.It was the bol'n'ho found them. He had lefthis younger brother in the fields and hadwandered off, asking himself x'hat had hap-

pened to his father and sister."Whoreson," he said, "they killed him."'Yes.""lVhy?""There was no one else to kill."The boy looked at her curiously. Her skirtwas splattered with blood and white matter.'You tried to lift him," he said-tentatively,as though it were a suggestion.The girl smiled. "I learned so much thisnight.""IV'ell,we have to hang on. Hang together."

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