By Dong Sa Bang

-“The bus is now at Duc Pho, why don’t you ask someone the way to Cho Chua. It’s as dark as black ink, if we have to get off at Quang Ngai station who’s going to be there for us”.

A heavy voice like a complaining from a lady who’s wearing a dust mask covered up her face, sitting beside a girl of 19, 20 years of age.

-“Mom, you sound so harsh, let it be and we will find the way… home”. The girl spoke with a bit of worry.

When I heard of Cho Chua I just remembered and wanted to ask the girl as if she knows the Chinese herbs man named Tro living there, but then I asked her nothing. Mr. Khanh from my village, was a respected Chinese herbs man, after passed away has left the Chinese herbs shop for his youngest son Tro. It has been long passed, since the day my village was burned up, I haven’t any time seen Tro yet.

Two thirty in the morning, the bus has passed Mo Duc city. Chin asked the bus driver to drop us off at Thi Pho market. A little while later the bus slowing down and stopped by the roadside. Before getting off the bus Chin turned back and remind the girl:

-“Young lady, remember to ask the bus driver to stop after crossing Song Ve bridge, there is a small road leading to Cho Chua there.”

The girl gave a small nod and looked into the dark night with a longed face.

I followed Chin step off the bus. The bus driver and his helper trying to pull the Honda scooter off from the luggage compartment, set it on the roadside. Then the bus en route Sai Gon - Da Nang vanished to Quang Ngai city. In a blink the sound of motor has sunk into the darkness, and out in the road there were two brothers coming back to search for their country.

I said to Chin:

-“It’s too early in the morning, let’s look for a motel to rest over the night and continue tomorrow.”

The gasoline in the Honda was emptied by the bus owner before loading into the luggage compartment. Chin walked the scooter along side of Highway 1A and looked for the gas station. It’s still as dark as black ink, the houses along the route still fall deep into the sleep. Far away there was a small gas station still open, the lights were dimmed low and the gasoline man was sleeping by the chair. Chin walked up and struck hard on the glass door and yelling:

-“Gasoline, gasoline, gasoline young man.”

-“Where, where, where is the gasoline?” The gasoline man yelling in his awake!

-“No, no, I means I need the gasoline for my scooter, not your gasoline leaking out.”

Chin said in his laughs.

-“You scare me to death.” The gasoline man mumbling, opened the door and stepped out.

I cracked off a small laugh in the tiredness and the sleeping has gone away.

The Honda has been filled up, I asked the gasoline man if there is a motel near by. Then I sat behind the Honda and Chin drove me off to the direction pointed by the gasoline man. There the motel Nhu Y was about 100 meters off highway 1A.

At six in the morning I woke Chin up, looked through the windows the sun was shining on the bamboo leaves. I changed, brushed my teeth and walked out in the front yard. The sunlight pierces through the bamboo leaves and shine on the coconut trees on someone’s back yard. The fresh air in the early morning from the countryside village, a bunch of chickens circling inside a fence, striking their bills up and down on the floor to pick up grains and little stones. The living in the countryside was so peaceful.


I stretched out and sipped a big breath then walked to the motel reception desk. The couple owners of Nhu Y motel were in the mid forty, have a firm build bodies. They invited me a cup of tea, exchanged some of the works that the native of Thi Pho going about day by day. When the cigarette was haft way burned Chin stepped out and I greeting the couple for good bye.

Chin started up the scooter, waved his hands to the couple and the scooter began rolling. From here I followed Chin to my village, Hanh Thinh.

We were in the front of Thi Pho market, Chin wanted to visit the market and buy some Tuna fish back to the village for gifts, and I needed to buy some incenses to visit my Daddy’s tomb. Chin told me every time he comes back to this place he always buy Tuna fish and drop them off at Aunt Five Three Three’s house and ask her to prepare the Tuna fish with rice noodle for him. He said only Aunt Five Three Three cooks Tuna with rice noodle the best.

Thi Pho market, the market that in the old time I only heard of but never had a chance to go there. In those days I remember that going to Thi Pho market was very exiting, and precious, because Thi Pho market carry lot of good tasting fish. But it’s far away from home. Today is the first day I step into Thi Pho market, this make me feel exiting. But the road leading to the market carry lot of scars on it. I don’t know if thirty years ago my sister saw the scars on the road like today!

After passing Thi Pho market a few hundred meters Chin took a left turn and heading to Mountain Hill.

Each time hearing the words Mountain Hill it made my tummy rolling up, the old memories keep coming back! Those days I was a small kid, and each time my Daddy took me along to Mountain Hill for the ceremony worship at my grandpa, I was so happy. I bustle and hung on to my daddy like a measure worm even before the trip (and the whole time on the road to my Grandpa). Those days I was like a small bird merrily skipping my feet and follow my Daddy each time to Mountain Hill. My Daddy took me to the the village road, a straight and flat road running up and down through the rice field. From there my Daady heading East and passing through the green, fresh rice field of An Ba. There, we crossed over a bridge to reach the Mountain Hill area. From my house to Mountain Hill only three to four kilometers but those days I felt so far away! So each time I followed my Daddy to Mountain Hill I felt like going to a very luxury place with lot of surprises!

I was like the little Pinocchio, one surprise after another with each of my step through the dike. I opened up my eyes wide and touched every thing on my path and wanted to round them all up in my pocket. And the Germany Cricket was that my Daddy. I walked by the railroad. If lucky I would see those train cars connected into one huge monster and rumbling in front of me. And what I like the most was to pick up the small blue ravel stones on the railroad home to snip into little balls. After crossing the railroad I tailing behind my Daddy to walk over a graveyard beside the hill. That hill was the Mountain Hill. Beside the tombs in the graveyard was an old railroad station simply constructed with concrete. Garbage and torn up papers flying here and there around the concrete walls seem like to fall down any time. And later, each time I heard about the tombs beside the railroad station it make my tummy writhe in pain with the old memories.

Those days my Daddy took me to Mountain Hill, with the sincerely memories of my youth on the dike that my Daddy brought me. But today when I came back to Mountain Hill my Daddy has passed away! Only what left was a lonely tomb sat by the side of Mountain Hill.

How many years have passed by, today I sat beside my Daddy. The graveyard on Mountain Hill and the railroad of the old days have faded in my memory. I no longer picking up the small blue ravel stones to snip into little balls, and no longer holding my Daddy legs and frightened watching the train passing by. I only sat here with the whole world missing my Daddy.

Time has gone by, the five years old kid in me is now bending his head remembering the sincerely image of a Daddy, through the mist of the incense in a late afternoon. And always pround of my Daddy, that I have grown up.

Dong Sa Bang.