VISITING MOM-2

Along the road was the river leading to HaTien. From Rach Gia, there came a bridge for each of 3-5 kilometer- distance- the number one bridge- the number two bridge. By asking, I got to know that Quan Thong canal was about two third from the number three bridge to the number four bridge- Soc Soai market. Facing Long Xuyen province were small canals, one edge heading to the sea where the poor Cambodian households settled down doing farming, the other heading to the Delta area.
It passed the second bridge rather hard. Going down the slope, it ran much faster. Passing through the empty My Lam market, it stopped at its station after a while. They one by one got out of the Lam not saying good bye not thank you. After getting out of it without a rain coat nor a hat not mentioning the rain drops clashing onto my childish face, I asked the driver, getting cold in his wet jacket.
“How far is it to Quan Thong canal?”
“About 9 kilometers.”
“9 kilometers? Is there anyway to get there, Uncle?”
“As it is dry, you can ask a boat for a ride. But in this kind of rain, there’s no way out.”
He seemed to be doubtful so he asked me in a low voice,
“How come you are here alone?”
“From Sai Gon, I come to visit my Mom at Quan Thong canal, across the river.”
“I have thought you have been here on … Why didn’t you take a night off in Rach Gia? It’s scary to get there at the time. Spend a night at my house, not far from here. Catch an early boat first thing in the morning.”
I had a feeling that my Mom, by an oil-lamp, had been waiting for me. I knew she would stay up all night waiting for me. So if I had not come that night, she would have aged several years, half of hair turning grey. I politely said good night denying the kind driver’s offer. Despite the heavy rain, I stepped ahead.
On the two sides of the road, there were the thatched cottages closed. The light of oil-lamps was as dim as the elderly’s health. I unsteadily stepped on a pitted road with boulders, holes full of water. I was like walking on the road but as it seemed, I was sometimes like wading in shallow pools of water. The leather shoes my grand pa gave me, one his heirloom, turned into a proof of my unique trip. I had a feeling that they became one size bigger, with the soaked leather. The wet backbag I was carrying became as light as I just passed a section of the trip. After a few first kilometers, I passed by a cluster of bamboo trees where it was so dark that I could imagine anything worst or ghostly. Whenever there were lightnings, they seemed to be signs, urges or warnings to recall me. Any bad guy could rush out from the middle of somewhere, grasping my hand, pulling me to a small boat then he rowed it to an empty strange place as a drammatical kidnap. In interesting detail was that there was noone could pay for the ransom. If searching carefulling everywhere on my body, the kidnapper could not get an amount for a cheapest pack of cigarettes.
It was as if I were electrocuted as I were struck by lightning. I suddenly wanted to rushed ahead as I heard a clanging sound coming from
an coming motorized sampan nearby.
“Is anybody there? Give me a lift. Help me.” Or as poor as I may be,
“Give me a lift. I am on my way to visit my Mom at Quan Thong canal. I am not a bad guy. Please, help me.”
Poor me?! There came a loud lightning downing my calling for help. There came next the start of the engine boat leaving me alone in rain and in completely dark. I asked myself,
“Haven’t I been left for a long time?”. “Haven’t I come over a lot of difficulties for 4 years with a small amount of scholarship but a big trouble?
“If a soldier could survive in a jungle for some time before being caught, So could I before coming to my Mom’s.”
As having been made stronger, I felt as if I were injected a magical tonic. I felt like I were 5 years younger. I wanted to run fast to the dam canal shouting,
“Mom, I am coming. I am coming.”
At the edge of the canal, instead of asking for a ride across the river, I wanted to jump into the water, swim fast, holding my Mom and cry like rain.
We both would stand still saying nothing to each other.
Passing the third bridge, I was still alone on the way. The local people’s houses seemed scatered. Kien Hao canal headed toward the mainland on my right hand side. On the opposite side it headed toward the sea. Not many houses lay by the river making the view clearer. I did not feel hungry nor tired. The feeling of coming home seeing my Mom made me forget everything. I was as physically stable as a marathon athlete. I knew my shoes were going to be broken into pieces. I knew there was someone chasing me. I imagined my Mom was waiting for my calling. I passed a section of 3 kilometers as someone just strolled in a park. When seeing the group of cottages one by one on the other side of the river, I recognized it would be that. I walked fast as if a ghost were following me. Suddenly, I shouted loud- a loud shout of help at the mid night,
“Ms. Sixth! Ms. Sixth!”
The door of a cottage in front of me just moved leading a half-hearted voice asking me,
“Who is asking for her at the time?”
“Yes, Yes, that’s me, her son. Take me there. I come so late. Please.”
With a palm- leaf- made conical hat hiding her face, a lady, seemingly to have been told to pick me up many times, not saying a word nor asking me anything, stepped carefully down onto a small sampan tied near the cottage getting ready to take me there.
I stepped down quicky feeling gladly easy like a soldier or an escaping prisoner was lead to his desired destination. Around two third of the trip, in such that rainy dark night, I suddenly cried out,
“Mom, Mom, I’m coming.”
It sounded like that of a lost young bird calling for his Mom in the nest. Noone has ever heard or imitated.

Rach Gia Nov 12,10
Thanh Luong