By Nguyen Kim Chau

Illustration by Dao Quoc Huy

In the memories of my childhood, each sunset was a parting. When there was still enough sunlight in the sky to cast red light over the rows of tram bau trees in the rice fields, when the flock of ducks were being herded home to their coops, their quacking mixed with frogs’ croaks, my father was still sitting in the doorway of the house, while I walked towards the river bank and stopped in my tracks to watch my mother pushing the boat far from the shore. She turned and said:

"Please go home, son! I’ll be back in the morning!"

The first time I insisted on going with my mother was when I was in first grade. Every afternoon I stood there waiting for her shadow to disappear on the other side of the river before I jumped into the water. There were some times I nearly drowned before I could swim. The river was so vast! The strength of a 6-year-old boy was not enough to carry him across it, so all I could do was stand there and cast my eyes at the water, which was rolling my mother into oblivion.

It was cold along the river bank at night. I rolled up like a shrimp on the bamboo bed and pulled the blanket up over my head. Sometimes I woke up at midnight and burst out crying. When he heard my sobs, father came into the room and picked me up, carrying me over to where he was lying. He comforted me with his asthmatic wheezing voice:

""Come on, do sleep, do sleep!"

He did not know how to sing a lullaby. I asked him in a whining voice:

"Dad, where’s mum?"

Father kept silent for a long while before he said:

"Mum is going to work. Do sleep now. Mum will be back in the morning."

I could not sleep, vaguely hearing the wind hissing in the river, the sedges whispering and the footsteps of big animals treading heavily on the muddy soil. Then I asked, half asleep:

"What’s the sound, dad?"

Father made a signal telling me to keep silent and then he peered out through a crack in the window. After a while, he turned and replied:

"Wonder buffaloes are grazing, son!"

I went on all fours and stuck my head out. Nothing but a dark night.

"I don’t see anything, Dad!"

"Because you made a noise and they went into the river."

"Why so quick?" – I heaved a deep sigh of regret.

"Those are wonder buffaloes, you know. Do sleep, now."

I lay down and took a catnap, forgetting that I had just cried for missing my mother. My mind was occupied with visions of big animals with long sharp horns, which often appeared from the river on moon-lit nights. They had light golden fur and whitish hides wet with water, shining in the moon light. I found myself sitting on the back of a wonder buffalo, which was crossing the river, and we swam and swam never reaching the shore.

When the morning came and mother rowed the boat home, father was already sitting on the doorstep, his eyes looking sad and far away, as if mother was a stranger, now looking aflame and terrifying. Mother looked haggard. Her eyes welled up with tears, her thin lips were cracked, trembling in a way that I couldn’t tell if she was crying or smiling. No squabbling, only tranquility reigned in this lonely house by the river. Mother went to work as a hired hand for Mr Bay Troc, a rich man, across the river. She did odds and ends in his house: carrying water on her shoulders, doing the washing, cooking and taking care of his children. The money she was paid was enough for her to buy medicine for father to treat the asthma that tortured him day and night. I did not feel angry at her, but I wanted to go with her so badly. One day I got up the courage to ask her:

"Mum, may I go with you?"

"No!" – mother said as if she knew the question even before I asked.

"Dad, may I go with Mum?" – I turned to ask father’s permission.

"No!" – father said, his voice breaking into a fit of coughing.

I went to the river bank, looking at the river, asking myself: "Is there anything over there that is so mysterious that it needs to be hidden from me? Is there anything that father could know? I am no longer a little boy. I am 16 now."

Many times I had gone behind father’s back and swam across the river, but I had never reached the shore. I could swim half or two thirds of the river but I stopped there and swam back. I felt annoyed and sad. Loneliness had overwhelmed me. I dived deep into the water and habitually opened my eyes. I hoped I could find the land down there that father often told me. Somewhere in that whirlpool lay everything that was sucked down and disappeared, even a boat. So swimming and diving down there needed courage, aspiration and good luck just to enter the world of the water god: there, the sky was very blue, the water was transparent and on a vast field those wonder buffaloes were leisurely grazing.

Alas! Those worlds that had buried the child’s aspirations in the man’s life. How could he reach down there without venturing even once? So I made up my mind to cross the river that night without telling father. The river flowed swiftly, pushing against me, but I was not frightened. I did the breaststroke and then the backstroke again and again without stopping. Yet, even when I reached the place where I had often stopped and turned back, I said "No" to myself and swam on. Whether it was heaven or hell itself, I vowed not to flinch an inch.

Suddenly, I stood in silence and then found myself walking through a garden resounding with the croaks of frogs and barking dogs. The light of kerosene lamps glimmered from a group of shabby houses. I tread softly and hid behind a fire wood shed in the corner of the yard, where I could clearly see inside some of the brightly lit rooms. The main room was very large but almost deserted except for a white-haired man sitting in a rattan chair. I saw my mother cooking something in a pot in another small house. Then she carried it in a bowl to the main room. The man ate the food, while mother sat on a wooden bed on the other side of the room. The man said something I couldn’t hear. Mother looked up and her smile was forced. Then the man walked closer and embraced her. This was not the backbreaking labour I had imagined her doing. This was not the woman I imagined working her fingers to the bone to make money for the family. In that deserted house, there was only a happy woman, not doing any work at all, while a man who was not my father expressed his love to my mother.

I rubbed my eyes over and over, hoping the sight would disappear. But instead something made me stand up and walk forward to look closer. Mother raised her head, looking surprised and frightened. Her eyes were wet with tears. Then I turned to run away, braving all obstacles on the way. Mother called to me, but I ran faster upon hearing her voice. I jumped into the river and swam and swam, even though I knew that mother was swimming after me.

Out of the blue, I stopped in midstream. It’s not that I was tired. I could swim the river twice now with the strength of a 16-year-old boy. No, I stopped because I saw my mother was being swept away by the whirlpool. Her arms were reaching up repeatedly and she was yelling for help. I rushed towards her, crying out in fear. I was too far away, but I tried to swim fast, much faster than I had ever thought I was able to. Finally I reached for her hand and caught it. I saw in her eyes that she was imploring me to release her hand so she could go to the other world. No, never! I stretched out my body to embrace her in my arms and then I dragged her away from the whirlpool. Only then did I realise that I was dead tired. I saw that there was a small boat rowing towards us, and I felt reassured about mother, I decided to release my arms from her body And I fell and fell. My body was floating in a cold and dark water. Suddenly I saw a bright light in the river bed. I burst out crying and then began laughing madly when I swam through the lighted area. A strange world was unfolding before me, so magnificent. The sky was blue, the river was dark blue with the fields stretching as far as the eyes could see. Those wonder buffaloes were swimming by my side, their fur shining gold and silver. I chose the biggest buffalo and rode on its back.

My father told me when I regained consciousness that I had been in a coma for two days and nights, almost dead. Mother seemed to be out of her mind with grief. But father strongly believed that I would not die. That whirlpool has never let anyone go since. The white-haired man across the river had had the guts to swim into that whirlpool to save me after he had saved my mother. The old man was very surprised and said I had not been swept deep down into the river bed, but pushed up and was floating as if by magic.

After hearing my father’s story, I smiled. I knew it was that wonder buffalo that had saved me. I did not tell anybody about what I had seen deep down in the river only because I wanted to protect one thing: what father had said was right. Somewhere in the river bed there was a heaven that was reserved only for brave men. But it was strange to me that even though I had spent my entire childhood dreaming about that miraculous world, I had craved to be saved, to be alive when I was drowning. I have never felt sorry about returning to the real world. It made me realise that only in this world, in this desolate and sad world, can I see the sincere tears and smiles of the people I dearly love.(VNS)

Translated by Manh Chuong