“In that case we still have time to run into each other. We often go that way.”
“Good. We must see each other. I’m going now.”
Ma Ly runs after his comrades. In a minute, everything becomes an indistinct crowd mingled with the trees in the woods, an undifferentiated black block. An suddenly remembers something. He springs up and runs after Ma Ly.
“Ma Ly, Ma Ly! Wait for me, Ma Ly!”
He brushes aside soldiers from Battalion 209 as he runs after his old comrade-in-arms.
“Ma Ly!”
“Here I am.”
An looks in the direction where the voice is coming from, and notices someone standing beside Ma Ly, so he hides himself behind a tree, waiting. In the dark he hears Ma Ly say:
“We are old comrades-in-arms…You go ahead, I will look for you later. We will assemble with our units after the performance.”
“Agreed.”
“Let me borrow your flashlight; mine is about to go out.”
“Be careful using it. We still have a long way to go.”
“OK.”
The other guy disappears in a flash. An stays in the dark for a couple of seconds before he walks out and faces Ma Ly.
“Let’s see the show together. I have many questions for you.”
“Agreed.”
They both join Battalion 209 to get closer to the stage, for, as guests, the 209 guys have been given half of the left side facing the stage, making the other soldiers green with envy. An and Ma Ly sit down together.
An looks at his watch then says, “I can only watch until nine fifteen. After that I have to stand guard.”
“You have to do it yourself?”
“My company is in charge. As its commander I do not have the right to sit here and watch while the younger soldiers have to leave and go on patrol.”
“You’re always the model soldier. I haven’t forgotten that. Ever since…we have known each other.”
“It’s not just me. In every division the cadres must act that way.”
After a moment of silence, Ma Ly asks, “Is this a dangerous place? I have heard that this is our rear area, like the ‘safe zones’ before.”
An laughs. “True, we are far from the battlefield. But there is no lack of enemy recon probes. That’s why we had to wait three years before we could have tonight’s entertainment. The soldiers, though, still have to go on patrol.”
“The enemy dares to venture even this far?”
“Are you joking? This is not like the Ha Tay boot camp twelve years ago. We are at war now. Do you think they are all just flabby pots of flesh or only wooden puppets?”
Ma Ly is quiet for a moment then asks: “You have given that many years and have only made it to company commander?”
“Do you forget that I was pursued so that I had to change my name? How about you?”
“I, too, am a company commander. I am told by higher-ups that should things develop well, next quarter I may be upgraded. A Meo who is especially loyal to the revolution and really courageous in battle.”
“Congratulations…”
“Oh-oh, the girls are coming out…” Ma Ly says, pointing to the stage.
They watch as the red curtains rise and a girl walks to the mike to give a very graceful bow as the master of ceremonies. She is dressed in a green four-piece tunic with one shoulder piece in red and another in purple over a chicken-fat-colored pair of pants, and the soldiers began to clap as if they have lost their regular minds. Then the music arises in all its splendor and excitement. The whole division has been waiting for this moment of happiness! But An no longer hears anything, no longer sees anything except the sweat-drenched face of his old comrade-in-arms. Ma Ly is giving all his attention to the MC.
“How will he behave?” An wonders to himself. “Perhaps he will stay mum because he is a friend, because I was the first one to help him understand the most elementary things about people living downstream. I also recommended him for a rise in rank, then helped him with some money so he could go home and take care of his father’s funeral. Or will he accuse me so as to show loyalty to his superiors and get a very special promotion? How can one predict all the tricky ways people behave?”
Twelve years have gone by but this fellow seems hardly changed. Still it is impossible to read those small and deep-set eyes. Hoang An quietly watches Ma Ly. The Meo must be in agony because he is in heat, yearning for a woman. His eyes are wet with longing. His breath is heavy and he constantly licks his lips. Randy people, whether men or women, can never resist this gesture. An recalls the time in the old unit when Ma Ly had been desperate, looking for a woman. And even though he was a full-blooded Meo, freshly come to the lowlands, he had been clever enough to find a half-nutty gal in the village who could take care of his pressing need. Now he is open-mouthed, looking at the fairies all dressed so gorgeously on the stage, dancing the Lamp Dance.
“How do you like it? Is it better or not as good as the Conical Hat Dance of the Thai people?” An asks.
“Better, much better,” Ma Ly answers without taking his eyes off the stage.
“Do you like the khen dance of the Meo people?”
“No,” Ma Ly responds emphatically, which surprises An. The Meo explains: “The Meo people don’t have a very sophisticated dance. The best dancers are the people in the central highlands, whether they are Rhade, Bahnar, or any other group.”
With that, he suddenly exclaims: “Oops, it’s over.”
Smacking his lips and shaking his head in regret, Hoang An laughs. “I didn’t know that you were so in love with these performances.”
“Are you thinking to denigrate us by suggesting that we Meo do not know how to appreciate art and literature?”
“No, I didn’t mean that. This kind of appreciation is a personal matter, it doesn’t have anything to do with an ethnic group. In my village we are all Tay but some of us love the flute so much that we can stay up the whole night playing it, while others know only how to drink wine until they collapse into slumber.”
“I am passionate about these things,” Ma Ly responds, then after a minute of hesitation, adds, “But I only care for dances with the women. I don’t like to watch men dance and sing.”
As he says that, the curtain again rises. An keeps quiet, as he does not want to disturb this Meo. It looks as if his entire mind is turning around and around under the stage lights. And that is how things go until 9:15. An raises his wrist to note the time, then says:
“Time to change the guard. I’m going.”
“Yes. We’ll see each other.”
“Agreed. After the performance, please try to wait for me.”
“Rest assured. I’ll wait for you.”
Hoang An retires toward the back. After gaining some distance from the crowd, he goes deeper into the forest and finds a good observation spot where he can entirely wrap himself in the darkness. Before him is a black immensity; where Ma Ly once had been is lost to him entirely. Ma Ly is of small stature like the majority of Meo men, normally about the height of their wives’ shoulders. It is said that when a Meo couple embrace, they look just like a big frog hanging on to a cucumber. The curtains keep rising and falling as one performance follows another. The watch shows twenty to ten. An feels his breathing starting to come more easily.
“Maybe he is not wicked enough to report me. Maybe he hasn’t forgotten the good memories of the past.”
But just as a sense of optimism returns, he notices the small silhouette of a man standing up and distancing himself from the crowded spectators in the dark. The silhouette finds its way between the ranks of soldiers and continues walking toward the stage where the division command officers are sitting in the front rows next to the commanding officers of Battalion 209.