Bamboo People Read Online Free PDF

Father’s photo; I’d forgotten all about it. I prop myself on an elbow, keeping a wary eye on the guards. There’s just enough light from the one kerosene lamp still flickering nearby. But as I reach inside my pocket, my fingers find two small squares of cardboard, not one. Suddenly I remember how Daw Widow patted my pocket just before I left. She must have added something else. What in the world could it be?
    I study both gifts in the dim light. One is the photograph of Father, of course. The other, to my amazement, is a black-and-white version of Lei, staring solemnly out at me. I can’t believe it! Daw Widow must know how I feel! And she doesn’t mind—in fact, this surprise is like getting her blessing. And wait—Lei must have known about the gift, too. Didn’t she say they went together to pick up the photos?
    I gaze at Lei’s picture for a long time, my heart racing. Her face is still and serious in the pose, but it’s easy for my imagination to add the sparkle in her eyes, the shimmer to her clothes, that sweet, light scent of jasmine, her teasing smile. Desire for the flesh-and-blood Lei slices through me like a sword. Now that I know how she feels, I won’t be so shy when I get back. If I get back.
    I study Father’s photo again. There he is, a few years older than I am now, gazing steadily into an unknown future.
Try hard, my son,
he used to say before our study sessions.
That’s all I ask.
    I put the photos back into my pocket. The light flickers and goes out, and the gym is dark. Taking off my glasses, I cradle the puffy side of my face in one palm and try to fall asleep.

9
    Someone yanks the blanket off my body.
    I jump up, startled.
Where am I? Where’s Mother?
    My heart sinks as I recognize the soldiers who brought us here. So yesterday wasn’t a nightmare. I fumble for my glasses, change into my trousers, and put on my jacket.
    They lead us out to the field, into a misty, gray dawn. Shivering in my thin clothes, I notice Tai beside me. He’s wearing only a
longyi
and a torn T-shirt, but he doesn’t even look cold. Instead, he pats his belly and tips his head in the direction of a tarp, under which a few soldiers cluster around a cooking fire. My own stomach rumbles in reply; the last meal I ate was lunch yesterday, with Mother.
    I look around while we wait for the food. We’re in a valley shaped like a flat-bottomed bowl, with dense, green slopes curving up on every side. Roosters crow in the distance. The river where we filled our cups the night before cuts the valley in half. Beyond it are paddies and a farmhouse nestled at the foot of high hills. Jungle covers the hills behind us, swallowing the dirt road that leads back up the mountain.
    The sections of trained soldiers eat first, under the tarp. Soon, though, they come to the field and hand us cups of weak tea and bowls of steaming rice. I devour my food, but I’m not as fast as Tai. He’s licking the bowl clean with his tongue before I’m halfway done. I glance at my bowl once I’m full; there’s still some rice stuck to the sides. I’ve probably got a lot more stored inside me than this street boy. I hand my bowl to him, and he flashes me a grin of gratitude before licking mine clean, too.
    After breakfast we’re fitted for uniforms. The jacket and trousers are made of faded green cloth and look ancient, with buttons missing and patches here and there. Mine smell like somebody died in them, but I put them on. They’re warm, at least. They don’t give us shirts, so we have to wear our own. And there aren’t enough boots to go around, so half of us don’t get any. Of course, I’m one of the new recruits who stays in sandals.
    We hear an engine in the distance. I tell myself I’m crazy to hope, but maybe they realized they made a mistake. Maybe the bus is coming to take some of us back. Instead a jeep screeches to a stop, and the captain gets out. The sight of his angular face makes the hair prickle on the back of my neck.