Both burst out laughing; people around them become curious and glance over. “A big shot like him speaking humbly before two carefree playboys. Honorable One, are you joking or are you serious?” Le Phuong asks.
“Never in my life have I joked with anyone,” Vu replies, and his serious tone shuts the two men up.
“You two know that I agreed to raise two children of a…big brother…”
“Yes, we heard.”
“The son lives with our family. But the girl had to go to the countryside to live with my older brother, in an isolated village all the way up in mountainous Thai Nguyen. Now she is thirteen, I want to take her back to Hanoi but don’t know whom to entrust her to.”
“Is she indeed the firstborn daughter of…the most elder uncle?” Le Phuong asks, taking a few minutes to find the right word for the mysterious father, while preventing the ears around from guessing to whom he was referring. “This is the very fruit from the last blossom in the life of a great man!”
“Exactly so,” Vu says. “The two kids are only twenty months apart.”
“The girl has lived in the countryside since she was young?”
“Yes, since she was two, to be accurate. Now she is almost fourteen. If she is not brought back soon to Hanoi, she will surely become a peasant and so she will live out her whole life as a gardener or a laborer.”
“I understand,” says Tran Phu, nodding. “A woman’s life is quite short; especially those from the countryside.”
“I know that this is an extremely difficult situation,” Vu goes on. “I am reluctant to ask even those I have been close to for many years for assistance in the matter. But now my intuition tells me to ask the two of you for help.”
Smiling broadly, Tran Phu says, “The sixth sense always provides the wisest compass. You are right to ask us. Because we sit with our butts on the grass. Only those who have dirt on their butts would dare to get involved in such a thing.”
Vu is puzzled. What does Tran Phu mean by “dirt on their butts”?
Seeing this, Tran Phu explains: “There are two kinds of people with muddy butts. One kind are farmers or dirt-poor people. They would have a hard time helping you even if they wanted to, because they lack ability — intellectual as well as financial. The other kind are those who voluntarily live outside the circumference of power. They choose to live like that because they are able to see the failings of those who govern. Moreover, they equip themselves only with minimal financial support — enough to sustain their survival with a little extra to cover others when needed. Thus, they are relatively free.”
“Yes, now I understand. However…”
“However, you are still hesitant because doing this would really be a crime for those who are still living in your world. We understand that very clearly. When living in the world of power, the hierarchy of position rules over everything. The more power you have, the more you want, and the more you belong to it. But we — we are like those who stand at the sides of the machine. Even though my friend is the director of a publishing company, his position is like a piece of stale bread compared with the other cushy jobs. A stale piece of bread with no butter or jam spread upon it; one munches on it only when one is very, very hungry. Nobody wants to live on it forever. Especially when age starts to slide toward the end and we need to protect our upper and lower teeth.”
Stopping, Le Phuong turns to ask his friend, “Am I right or not, Mr. Director?”
“Correct one hundred percent!”
Both burst into deep laughter that leads to coughing.
“They seem oddly very happy,” Vu thinks to himself. “I wonder, are they serious or are they joking?” He asks after taking some sips of beer, “Will you be able to endure threats or interference from this machine or not?”
“I may joke and laugh but my mind has covered all the implications of what you are suggesting,” Tran Phu replies. “I know that you worry a lot. In addition, all your life you have used the correct terminology, the serious language of politicians and administrators. It is understandable that you are a bit apprehensive when dealing with a couple of unsettled guys like us. Therefore, I will explain everything carefully to put you at ease.”
For the first time since they had met, Vu sees that Tran Phu is serious. “I have a sister who has married a medical doctor — she brings the food here for me,” Tran Phu begins, going on: “The couple is childless. For a long time they have wanted to adopt. Everyone, especially me, has discouraged them. Adopting a child is a dangerous venture, because most kids given away or sold have an abnormal history, or are full of elements not beneficial to their psychological and physical development. However, we know also that taking care of an abandoned child brings auspicious fortune. If this is possible with ordinary adoptees, why not more so with the kin of a distinguished person? Don’t worry. I have not asked my sister but I am sure there will not be any problem. We shall announce that we have found a girl for her to adopt; and it is you who has brought her to us, right here, in this hospital. Whatever the truth, I will say it as it is, in the context of having known you since the northern front. Our knowledge has limits, not an inch more. A girl of thirteen with no prior convictions; never cheated or killed anyone. If concerns are sought, it is hard to find any basis.”
“Thank you,” Vu replies, both anxious and moved. However, he still doesn’t completely trust what Tran Phu is saying. It is too good to be true…
“Let’s pretend,” he says, “that…that the entire truth could be openly told…”
“It cannot…And if someone dares say anything, I will declare him a traitor, who accuses and defames the highest leader,” Tran Phu firmly replies. “For years, the Party and the government have always used propaganda to teach the people that our leader is the Father of the People, the one who always fought for independence and the nation’s future, and therefore who has no personal happiness. I will accurately quote one hundred percent of all the teachings of the Party’s Central Indoctrination Office. I will repeat exactly all the things they have asked me to memorize all these years. I will throw in their face exactly what they have vomited out systematically.”
“Splendid!” says Le Phuong. “There is no better way than to pick up a stone lying in front of the house of Mr. Tu to throw at the guava trees of Mr. Tu; it’s like taking the cane from the canton chief to hit the head of the canton chief…This type of counterattack, of turning the tables on the big shots, has been used for thousands of years. Now they explain it in a more modern way: the action of a boomerang.”
Vu remains worried. After a few moments, he says, “I don’t know, perhaps this is too much trouble for the two of you; I’m still a little uncomfortable with the plan. If you agree, I could certainly ask my secretary to bring money and food, monthly, as a contribution to the family.”
“We don’t have need of your food ration,” Tran Phu replies. “In reality, these ration cards don’t provide enough to feed a cat.” Lowering his voice, he goes on: “We are not as well off as the people were in old Hanoi, but now we know how to tighten our belts. We cannot trust any directions given to us by those who once sat on sidewalks pouring cash out of cans to count what the passersby had contributed and then, the next day, thanks to the generosity of the revolution, sit in the finance minister’s chair. No, we are not that stupid. Our money cannot be deposited in government banks, nor can it be declared to these officials who once were beggars. We have to find ways to transform it…as if we might bury it at the foot of an orange tree. It is that simple. Now, are you comfortable or not?”
“Yes,” Vu replies, though his face is hot as if someone had just slapped it. This is the first time he has heard such words. Unfortunately, they are true.