Journals
Sunday,Jun 1 2008, 05:36:27 PMTHE CHILD IN THE RIVER
Dedicated to my friends V., S., Jz., and Einstein.
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My old familial house, which my grandfather established after his retirement from the mandarin post of
Tri Phu (a kind of Chief of Province), was situated in a large area including gardens and rice fields, with
three sides surrounded by rivers, and the other side was a chain of mountains and forests. My mother
used to tell us that when she came to that house as a new bride, the desolate site scared her a little,
but as she got acquainted, she loved it a lot. Retired, my grandfather became the local medecin, so our
house was most of the time crowded with patients, some ones from far-away places, among them there
were even French people. Years after, when they returned to VN, these foreigners still came to pay visit
to the old rural medecin and thank him.
At that time, wild animals sometimes came down from the mountains. Even in my childhood, one night
an hungry tiger had come down and been shot dead by the local troops at the foot of a hill. Early in the
next morning, one of my cousin and I had run up to see it. I was very disappointed, because it was an old
tiger, so thin that it looked pitiful and miserable. My mom told us that in those past times, one day when
both my grandpa and father were absent, and she was preparing some herbal medicine, a wild boar had
run into our courtyard, and the women and the children had been shouting and fleeing in all directions.
Suddenly, an uncle of mine, my mom's cousin, a six year-old boy, had picked up a broom and ran after
the boar to beat it, and the wild boar, terrified by that terrible kid with his piercing shouts, had fled out.
I really had a hell of an uncle!
My father liked the chase, and he used to go into the forest to chase with one of his best friend, a dead
shot of the village, with the funny name of Giam Xeu. This gentleman was eventually killed by a big wild
boar. That fateful afternoon, they both spotted a big wild boar, and Mr. Xeu shot it down with just a single
shot. As the boar lied motionless on the ground, he came up near it, gun in hand. Suddenly, the boar
rose up and tried to thrust. Very camly, Mr. Xeu stepped back and cocked his gun. But he tripped over
a branch on the ground and fell. The wild boar thrusted against him, tearing up his side with a horrible cut.
He died right at the moment my father carried him back home.
My father was a good marksman, I dont know why members in my family were all good in shooting. My
elder brother was an excellent marksman, I am not bad either, but the best one was my younger brother.
He could shoot with an terrifying accuracy, and one of his favorite game was to put a bullet at the center
of a target, then fired at some distance of fifteen meters, and his shot would blow up that bullet and the
target altogether. My youngest sister had once asked him how could he shoot like that, he smile and told
her jokingly that there were 8 principles of shooting for all marksmen, but he had nine.
When he didn't go for the chase in his free time, my father went for the fishing. He rented a small roofed
boat, carried along a number of his fishing rods and stuffs, plus his inseparable 12-caliber shotgun, and
rowed upstream about some five or six kilometers from our house to fish, right in the middle of the river.
What happened in that scarry night was told to me when I was some ten years old, but I remember it
well.
It was the time when one of his friends came from the city to see him and stayed some days with him.
They had gone for the chase, but they didn't get much, so they returned and took the boat. For a man
from the city, these activities were a real treat. They rowed the boat far upstream, anchored the boat
and began fishing. At the end of the day, they got a lot of fishes that my father put in a bamboo basket
dipped in the water at the boat's bottom. It had been raining some while in the afternoon, the river was
tranquil and very cold. They got some food, then went to sleep, for they were tired. My father did have
a sound sleep, for he only woke up when someone shook him strongly by his shoulders.
"H.! (my father's name)...H.! Wake up!" a strange voice hissed imperceptibly by his ear, "Ghost!..."
My father sat up. In the silence of the night, he heard a light thudding sound of something falling into
the water. Then he looked at the one talking and saw that was Mr.Th. his friend, with a voice out of tune
and a face turned pale from fear.
"What's the matter Th.?" my father asked.
"A ghost, H.! A ghost!...Hush!... Don't move. It will come!"
The man showed outside the boat with his finger. It was not a full-moon night, but there was enough
light to see the white river water flowing downstream and the vague dark trees on the riverbanks. They
stayed silent for a while, Mr. Th. kept on showing the direction with his shaking finger. Then my father
sensed a slight shudder in the boat, and the boat tilted almost imperceptibly at one side, as if something
was clinging to the boat-side to climb up on.
Then a face slowly appeared over the boat-side, raising bit by bit from the river. My father looked and
looked. It was the face of a child. In the dim light, he saw that the child was clutching the boat-side with
his hands and looked into the inside of the boat where they were sitting, overwhelmingly thunderstruck.
It was a very small child, like a new-born. And now he was looking at my father with his rounded eyes
- and a hideous grin on his face, baring his white teeth. A new-born child, with teeth!
In the dark under the boat roof, my father seized his shotgun. But at the slightest sound he made, the
child jumped down into the river with a flopping sound and disappeared.
My father never believed in ghosts. But now he felt cold. And the night was really cold in fact. No one
could soak oneself in this glacial water in the middle of the night, much less a new-born child. So they
both sat silently, completely aghast and doubtful, for a long time. My father took his gun, loaded and
cocked it, awaiting. Time passed. No one spoke.
Then the boat had a slight trembling again, and the boat inclined very lightly, almost imperceptible. The
weird child seized the boat-side with both hands, raising up his face and looking inside the boat, always
with his white teeth and his hideous grin. My father aimed and fired. The explosion broke the silence of
the night. The boat had a tremor as the monstrous child was thrown up in the air and fell flopping down
on the water.
My father and his friend rushed out and looked. The corpse lied there, floating on the river. It was a big
otter. The otter, that water-rat which dived so well and fed on fishes, that night had sensed the smell of
the fishes in the boat and come up to catch them.
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Sunday,Jun 1 2008, 02:57:41 AMTIME OF FURY
Dedicated to Lady Veronica
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In the summer I came to my 11th class, I was living in a small town of the Central Vietnam. I had three
friends, very close, although we're not all classmates, two of them were from another high school.
I was the youngest - I was always the youngest in every class, every school I attended. Almost all my
friends at that time were two to four years older than me.
We used to exchange school lessons, do exercises in martial arts and take strolls together around the
town at night, some time till 4 o'clock in the morning. Seldom passed a day we're not together.
Then one day, a friend didn't come. Then two days. At the third day, the three of us decided to come
to his home, as he was living far from us. Just as we were leaving, he came with a devastated face
and a terrible news. His elder sister had killed herself.
I loved that sister a lot. She was a young and very beautiful girl, three years older than me, gentle and
kind. Sometimes, when I came to her house, she had some talk with me, caressing my hair or giving
me some cakes she had made herself. A man seduced her, got her pregnant and dropped her. In this
small town we're living, where rumors spread like wildfire and traditions highly estime the chastity, her
situation was real hell. Desperate and deeply hurt, she jumped into the river and got drowned.
My friend cried, and the three of us were all dazed as he told us this sudden news. We sweared to
revenge for my friend's sister.
We knew the guy who seduced her, he was the son of a rich man, named T., handsome and tall. He
didn't know us, so we could find him and approach him. But he had fled after this event. We roamed
every where, every quarter in our town during all our vacation time. He was nowhere. But we didn't
forget our promise.
Then one afternoon, as I was on a bike behind one of my friend, and he was pedalling through a
deserted road, we surprised the guy, he was playing kind of handball with some other guys. They
were four, so we would have to fight two - to - one. But we're not afraid. My friend dashed the bike at
the guy, he evaded but we still brushed him. The guys shouted and we stopped. A dispute exploded
between my friend and T. - that base guy who seduced and dropped out an innocent girl who had
loved and trusted him, and caused her death.
Eventually, in his anger, T. gave my friend a slap. That was what G., my friend, awaited. He jumped
down from the bike, told me to hold it, then said to the other three guys, "You see, he slapped me.
So let me and him solve this between men, with no one intervening, ok?"
G. was smaller than me though he was older. But he was a better fighter. So that afternoon, he used
the Shaolin Houquan - a kind of boxing called the Monkey Boxing, beating that guy ruthlessly. At the
end, when T. fell down and couldn't rise up, his friends rushed in to his rescue. I threw my bike at one
of them, knocking him down, and fought another one, while G attacked the third. They all fled, perhaps
to call their band. G. seized T.'s collar, raised him up, and said with a very harh voice:
"That's for Miss C.! Understood, coward?"
He stammered indistinctly "Yes...!... give... ... give me..."
G. shouted, "What?"
The guy kept on stammering, "... give... forgive me!... please..."
I looked at his blood-stained face and said to G., "It's ok, G.! Let's go home."
We rode our bike back home. We talked about the fight for some while. Then at one moment, I looked
at the sky, and couldn't move my eyes away. It was a blue, very clear sky, with just some touches of
white clouds, a mild sky of happiness. Suddenly, I felt a sort of sadness invade my heart, sweeping
away all the joy of having revenged for our friends.
Two weeks later, I fell into an ambush set by T. and his band, one night I walked back home. They were
about ten guys, armed with sticks, clubs, chains, even daggers. I was beaten savagely and had to stay
in bed for two months, abandonning my class. My friends wanted to fight back for revenge, we had enough
force to beat them out. But I told all my friends to stop. It was really hard for them to accept that, but in
the end they agreed. The second day after that ambush, my cousin, the one I loved the most in my life,
came to pay me visit. She burst into tears as she looked at my face. I rubbed her hair, and knew deep in
my heart that my adolescent years had come to an end.
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Sunday,Jun 1 2008, 12:36:06 AMJOKES
JOKES
(Added some new ones)
To Lady Sheila and Lady HUGS
For some moments of relaxation
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NAIVE CUSTOMER
A man walked into a sporting-goods shop where he was approached by a clerk.
"May I help you?" the clerk asked.
"Yes, I'd like some shoes."
"What do you want to use them for - tennis, volleyball, basketball, hiking, running, jogging?"
The customer looked around at the different types of shoes, then back at the eager young salesman
and answered, rather timorously:
"Well, I, uh, thought I'd just walk around in them. Is that ok?"
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NAIVE WIFE
A tearful house wife stood before the judge and said," Your Honor, I want to charge my husband
with adultery. I think he has been unfaithful to me."
"Do you have any evidence?" asked the judge.
"Well, Your Honor, I' ve been studying the faces of my three children and not one of them looks
like him!"
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NAIVE HUSBAND!
"I was relaxing in my favorite chair on Sunday," said a man to his friend, "reading the newspaper,
watching a ball game on TV, and listening to another on the radio, drinking beer, eating a snack
and scratching the dog with my foot - and my wife has the nerve to accuse me of just sitting there
doing nothing!"
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GENTLE HUSBAND!
Husband to wife as they watch television:
" I'd like to get my hands on whoever approves all this violence on TV!"
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POOR HUSBAND!
Husband to wife, " I was not yawning the whole time you were talking. I was trying to say something."
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NAIVE SAINT PETER! POOR MINISTER!
Saint Peter greeted the two ministers at the Pearly Gates and said:
"Your condos aren't ready yet. Until they're finished, you can return to Earth as anything you want."
"Fine," said the first minister. "I've always wanted to be an eagle soaring over the Grand Canyon."
"And I'd like to be a real cool stud," said the second.
Poof! Their wishes were granted.
When the condos were finished, Saint Peter asked an assistant to bring the two ministers back.
"How will I find them?" the assistant asked.
"One is soaring over the Grand Canyon," Saint Peter replied.
"The other may be tough to locate. He's somewhere in Detroit - on a snow tire."
(NOTE. stud: 1. a sexually promiscuous man (Slang)
2. a nail head)
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CUTE WORDS!
Although he likes it a lot, my brother-in-law is not good in music, especially a tune that he doesn't
carry well. One afternoon, after listening to him for an interminable time, I overheard my sister ask,
"Why do you always hum that song?"
"Because it haunts me, " he answered.
"No wonder," she said, "you're murdering it."
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FAIRNESS IN MARRIAGE LIFE
Married for 52 years, my grandparents are considered by many to have the ideal marriage. They always
do things together and have never had a dispute. On their 52nd wedding anniversary our grandparents
were asked to reveal their secret for a lasting marriage.
"We have always agreed on a simple arrangement," replied my grand-father. "In the morning she does
what she wants, and in the afternoon I do what she wants."
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Sunday,Mar 30 2008, 06:16:10 AMA GHOST STORY
A GHOST STORY
Dedicated to: Jazzie, for her comment
nody, Hnadi, Mtv (long time no see!), Angel of Kuwait
and all my young friends...
My house, where I lived throughout my childhood with my parents, is surrounded on
three sides by rivers, the other side is a range of hills and mountains. The river at the
back of my house is just a branch of the great river in front. It flows, at numerous spots,
between the gardens and deserted lands on the two banks, with thick shrubs and big trees,
and gets very dark at night. My early years were full of ghost stories. My grandma used to
tell us that whenever she passed that section of river on boat by night, she heard a voice
urging from the deep water "Row fast!... Row fast!..", and the boat man hurried to push
his oars. Otherwise, a white hand would raise up from the water and grab the boat-side
and only God knew what would happen.
So we never dared to bath in that river at night.
When I grew up and came to the University, I forgot all those stories. I used to take bath
in that small river by night, and swim along the big river in daytime.
One night, I went to attend a ceremony party at a friend's home in a nearby hamlet. Past
midnight, as I walked back home, I chose a shortcut which led straight to my garden on
the other side of that small dark river.
But there was no bridge at that spot, and I decided to swim across the river. I put out all
my clothes then swim across the river with a hand raising up, holding them over the water.
Reaching to the bank on my garden, I stepped up and began to put on my clothes again.
But when I picked up my shirt and looked up, I saw the girl.
She was standing on the other riverbank, right at the spot I just left some fifteen minutes
before.
The night was lit with a vague moon, which made all the shadows darker. But the girl was
standing right in the moon light, clearly distinguished from the dark background of trees,
looking in my direction. I thought I could see a fixed look on her white face. A white and
pale face.
I had a shudder.
Various ideas came into my mind. The memories and fears from childhood... the curiosity...
the philosophical thinking and conviction of a young student... the desire to know if there
were ghosts or there were not ghosts... etc. So I looked at the girl once more, then putting
on only my shorts, I swam back to the place on the other riverside.
When I reached the bank, the girl disappeared.
I kind of looked around, but she was nowhere. It was just a vision.
I swam back again to my garden after shrugging my shoulders. "Illusion!..." I told myself.
But as I put on my shirt, and looked toward that direction just for a try, I saw the girl again.
She was standing at the same place, fixed her look at me.
And this time, she waved to me. A white hand, waving. Imperceptibly... but I was sure that
she moved something.
Then she waved to me again, this time very clearly. I could see her hand waving and waving...
You can laugh, but I was a little drunk that night, after the party. I swam back again to the
girl, for the second time.
I thought she was probably a ghost, and I would be able to see her, maybe talk with her,
and I would know the truth about that question. There's still no proof to show the existence
of ghosts, but there's also no proof to affirm their non-existence.
Once more, I got to the spot, and once more, the girl disappeared. I was very disappointed,
and a little angered.
I stood there, looking around... then I moved a little around, searching...
Then I understood.
The banana tree, and the moon!
There was a banana tree at the edge of that garden, and it was lightened when the moon
got out of a flowing cloud... then sunk into the shadow when the moon was hidden behind
another cloud. The banana big leaves, reflecting the moon light, gave me the vision of the girl.
And it also gave me a feeling of cold. I don't know if ever I meet a real ghost, I would have
that same feeling...
Dear friends - and Dear jazzie,
Just for you, to have a certain moment of relaxation... if you're not scared.
My ghost stories are not real ghosts, though they might be scary sometimes. But I have been
told of many real ghost stories from trust-worthy people. I will tell you some, when we have
the opportunity. OK?
Best regards,
Thursday,Mar 27 2008, 09:06:21 PMTHE STORY OF K'TE THE LAZY
The Story of K'Te the Lazy
(I told my friends V. and N. that I would tell them a story about a brave Chinese lady.
But as the story was too long, I would have to cut out a large portion, which I hadn't
done yet! So I wrote this in its place.)
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In dedication to V, Nostalgia, c, and JAN.
In the Spring 1995, I had a mission in a mountainous area deep in one of the largest
forests of VN, called the "Three-Frontiers Area". I had two friends going along
with me, a journalist and an ethnologist, both ladies.
After two days staying in the Central Highlands, we moved far deep into the forest
and reach to the ethnic minority of Mah, one of the most noteworthy tribal minority
of VN. The women are mostly silent yet beautiful and all the children have deep
black eyes. And what did strike me the most was their sincerity and hospitality. Once
they believe us, they would never forget us and be so kind that we could hardly betray
them.
These people have a nice way of showing their hospitality. As they had been informed
in advance of our arrival, when we reached the forest's edge, in the dim light of sunset,
we heard the sound of a merry musical melody, played by specific instruments called
Gongs, like a warm welcome from that far-away hamlet. After two hours of drinking with
them their famous wine "Ruou Can" in a large Jar, we took leave. Twelve men, among
them some old men, ran up to the places they put their Gongs. Another melody raised
up, this time sad, sweet and desolate, as the men clapped to their gongs and danced
their gracious traditional dance, following the rhythm of the song to see us off. That
sorrowful and poignant melody followed us till the edge of the forest.
The next evening, the Chief of the district organized a party to greet us. A number of
those ethnic minority people were invited. That's when we met K'Te the Lazy.
He was famous in his tribe because of his laziness. In this land of old fixed traditions,
where the girls ask the boys to marry them at the cost of a number of buffaloes and
jars plus a span of land to cultivate coffee trees, he has not been asked till this day by
any girl, because he was very lazy, and all the girls might think he would let them die
of hunger and did nothing. So he was sitting there with his drink, silent and morose,
and replied by curt answers to some friends passing by, talking to him.
My friend the ethnologist is an excellent wine drinker. She could beat us all with drinking
wine. The more she drank, the more her face became pale and beautiful. So that night,
M., as she was called, had been drinking a lot and was a little bit drunk.
She saw K'Te The Lazy, and as she got a little naughty, she came up to his place,
"Hey, K'Te!"
"Hey!" K'Te replied, not deigning to look up.
"Why are you sitting alone like that, K'Te?"
"Hmmmm! That's it!" was all the answer.
Some people laughed.
"Would you drink with me?" M. asked.
"Why?"
"Because I love you!"
"Hmmmm!"
I came up, but M. was getting drunk.
"Would you marry me, K'Te?"
"Why?"
"Because I love you!"
People laughed, but K'Te remained gloomy and irritable.
"What would you request?"
"Uhmm... not much! five hundred holes to plant coffee tree, OK?"
"Hmmmm!... five hundred?"
For such a lazy guy as K'Te, to clear out a good land in the forest and dig 500 holes to
plant coffee tree was rather much!
I pulled my friend away, but she was really drunk.
"Yea! five hundred holes! OK?"
People laughed and laughed. I dragged her away.
"OK" The man replied, as sad and gloomy as always.
Surely, M forgot all of this, when she woke up the next morning. And we were setting
to do our job. But the following day, as she wandered by K'Te's hut, she saw him
digging earth vehemently. And working together with K'Te The Lazy was his brother,
also famous for his own laziness like him. There were about one hundred holes already
dug out in a plot of cleared forest land. K'Te the Lazy was not lazy at all.
M. was taken with fear. Those naive and frank people knew nothing about joking.
She came to me and asked me to leave, before things could become complicated!
I saw that she was really afraid. She is an ethnologist, and she knows about the ethnic
minority people. So I asked the District Chief to lend us three a car to leave early the
next morning.
I didn't know how K'Te knew that we're leaving. Perhaps some of his friends saw M.
prepare her traveling bag. But as the car turned round a hillside, we saw the man.
He ran along with us, leaping and jumping, at times disappeared behind shrubs and
trees, at times appeared on the hillside above us, waving and shouting!... I looked at M.
Her face was as white as a paper. After a certain time, we saw the man no more.
I dropped out that place, and chose another site for my job. It seemed that M. didn't
came back there during a longtime afterwards. I really wish all the people mentioned in
this story got all the best things!