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| Illustration: Phan Nhan |
The drumming during practice these days became louder and more resonant; the children wading in the fields suddenly looked up to listen, then whispered excitedly:
- School is about to start again, I'm so excited to go back to school, I miss my classmates so much.
- You should start thinking about that pile of homework at the end of the day. Oh, where are those carefree days?
Only Quoc remained silent. He carefully waded through the water where the adults had just harvested, bent down to pick up a duck egg that had fallen from the field, and smiled as he thought about making patties with it so that when his father and he returned from work, they would have a different kind of dinner.
- The teacher came to my house to remind my parents about the start of the school year so we wouldn't miss the deadline. Have you been there yet, Quoc?
- Do you think his father would let him go to school?
Then, as if realizing they had spoken out of turn, the children fell silent. The silence of the school bell only added to the solitude of the afternoon. After the rice harvest, the adults often let the children release ducks into the fields. The ducks would eagerly eat the leftover grains from the harvesting machines. The children would herd the ducks and glean the last remaining rice, filling their sacks to the brim. By evening, they would also be able to gather a few eggs laid by the ducks in the fields, and as the sun began to set, they would often reward themselves with games like flying kites on the embankments.
In this impoverished rural area, going to school was a luxury. Despite receiving much support, the burden of providing for the family meant every member was a source of livelihood. Quoc's family consisted only of him and his father. His mother, disheartened by poverty, had left when he was still an infant. His father had to beg for milk from neighbors, and Quoc grew up surrounded by the kindness of the villagers. Children in the countryside often find joy in simple things. During the rice harvest season, while their parents toiled in the fields, the children would huddle together, preparing their rice cakes with a little fish sauce, and then gather to catch grasshoppers. Quoc remembers the moments he spent with his mother. Whenever she made rice cakes, he would sit beside her, carefully sprinkling peanuts on top. Occasionally, when peanuts stuck to his hands, he would lick them, enjoying the nutty, crunchy taste. Even when she wasn't finished, she would still scoop out a separate bowl of rice cakes for him to eat first…
- Have you guys caught many yet? I've already got a whole bunch.
- I got a whole bag too; just thinking about roasted grasshoppers with salt makes my mouth water.
In this rural area, adults do the important work, while children often find joy in helping them. Catching grasshoppers is not only a way to get by but also to prevent them from harming the rice crop. Meanwhile, Quoc's only thought was to get home early to cook dinner for his father before he returned home tired from his afternoon work. He suddenly remembered making a few scarecrows to guard the fields; he had planned to do it yesterday but forgot, chasing away the birds that were eating the rice.
When her mother left, she was too young to remember much. In fact, she didn't really think her mother was leaving because she had left home several times before. She'd left when she was just a baby, then come back. Then, when she grew a little older, the poverty became unbearable, and she left again. This happened several times, and each time her father said nothing, silently accepting her comings and goings, so she knew her father loved her mother very much. But this time, she really left. Her father initially waited, but then couldn't bear it anymore. As she grew older, her father's personality changed; he started drinking more, and every time he saw her face, which looked exactly like her mother's, he would beat her mercilessly. Even though he usually beat her when he was very drunk, and the beatings were only mildly intoxicating, they were enough to leave painful red welts on the child's skin. She knew her father loved her; proof of this was that he never abandoned her, and he always brought her the best food when he was sober. Although he was a man of few words, the father and son rarely spoke to each other. Going to school each year felt like torture to him. He knew his family was struggling financially, even though he was very eager to learn. He didn't dare mention it to his father, yet he desperately wanted to go to school.
Mr. Linh pushed open the creaky door and stepped into the house after a tiring day of driving the ox cart. Quoc noticed that his father didn't smell of alcohol, so he quietly set the table, handed his father a damp towel to wipe away the sweat, and whispered:
- Dad, is the teacher coming home today...?
Here, because so few students attend school each year, teachers usually go to the school before the opening ceremony to encourage students to come to class. It's a small school, with few classes; when they get a little older, they'll be offered a place in the town to study. His father subtly lifted his head, deep in thought, then lowered his head to eat his rice. He picked up the bottle of wine from the corner of the table and drank. He looked timid. Every time his father was deep in thought, he would drink, and he would get beaten…
***
- I don't have the money to go to school.
His father spoke harshly to the teacher when the teacher came to the house several times to try and persuade him. The teacher, seeing his helplessness and the marks on his hands, was a young, enthusiastic teacher who reported the domestic violence to the authorities. Through the teacher's efforts and evidence from those around them, people began to separate the father and son. He would be sent back to his grandparents to be raised, as he was currently deprived of education and being beaten… His father, of course, refused. He still remembers that afternoon vividly; many people came to their house, and his father restrained him. He didn't understand why, for the first time, he saw tears in his father's eyes, but being a man of few words and deeply hurt, he could only hold him back, unable to say anything.
"Leave him alone, you've beaten the boy senseless," his grandmother said, weeping.
He also doesn't let the boy go to school.
The barrage of words left the father and son stunned. Suddenly, the father released his son's hand, and the silence was the answer. The father looked at his son for a long time, and the son suddenly saw the sunset in his father's eyes, making them redden. It seemed he realized he was about to lose his son, and he was tormenting him out of self-pity, unaware that his son shared similar pain.
Let the boy decide.
Someone's voice rang out, silencing him. He sat down helplessly on the ground; he had already guessed the answer—there was no reason for it to stay by his side.
- I want to stay with you, Dad. I'll be your child forever.
No one asked why because they saw how sturdy it looked. It seems that sometimes adults overthink things while children are simpler...
You can see who is kind to you, even if they are hiding it behind other wounds. His eyes welled up with tears, but he quickly turned away. Quoc ran and hugged his father, his father's large body collapsing into him…
***
Quoc had just dug up some cassava roots, which looked round and white; the larger ones resembled little piglets. In this hot weather, boiling these roots in water or eating them would be very refreshing. He suddenly remembered the pot of sweet potatoes he was cooking at home, which he'd asked his neighbor to look after. A bright smile spread across his face as he quickened his pace. His father was passing by in his cart as he skipped home.
Why are you still here at this hour? Why aren't you at school?
- Yes, Dad, I have afternoon classes today. I just went to the fields to help Auntie Ba glean rice, and I dug up some cassava roots. I'll boil them for tea when I get home.
His father lifted him onto the cart beside him and then reined in the ox, driving slowly along the village road. He suddenly realized that this small figure had always been by his side, bearing the burden whenever he was tired, but sometimes he selfishly forgot about it because of the pain his family had suffered.
- Did you enjoy going to school, son/daughter?
- I'm so happy, Dad. My teacher just gave me some more notebooks. Yesterday he told me that the school is launching a scholarship program for underprivileged students. If I study hard, I'll get a scholarship, which will be a great help for our family.
She excitedly told her father about the sun-drenched schoolyard, the red scarves fluttering in the wind. She talked about the weekly flag-raising ceremony and the sound of the school bell. She recounted her school days, though only a few classes in the school, were always lively and bustling. She also talked about the times it rained, the schoolyard flooded, sometimes the water rising up to her thighs, but it was so much fun wading through it, and she even made rafts out of banana leaves for her friends to use to avoid getting wet.
He listened attentively to every word his young son said. Perhaps only when he might lose him would he truly appreciate him and understand what was best for him. Everyone could see a glimmer of hope that had just appeared in his eyes.
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