after a long trek.
“Is that why you brought me to your village?”
“For the stick? We all believe it’s connected somehow, but, no, Yeh Ming. Not for the stick.”
“Then why?”
“Surely you know. Elder Long has forbidden us to talk about it.”
“I have no idea.”
“He said you’d know it – sense it.”
“Bao, I’m a doctor of scientific medicine. I’m not a shaman. Yeh Ming isn’t my name. I’m Dr Siri Paiboun. I’m just a sort of living, breathing container for Yeh Ming’s spirit. I can’t even talk to him.”
A look of horror came over her face.
“But everyone has so much faith in you.”
“I’m sorry.”
For a long while the only sound was the chirruping of night insects and water dripping into the house jar Siri broke the deadlock.
“Look. I do have some…connection to the spirits. I see them. I can’t control them at all but I see them. Sometimes they give me clues.”
“Clues?”
“You know? Hints. I have to work out what they mean. Perhaps if you told me why I’m here I could see whether…”
“Yes, Yeh Ming.” She didn’t seem at all heartened by this suggestion. “Let’s try that. Do you think…?”
“Think what?”
“Do you think we can keep this from Long and the others? There have been so many catastrophes. This is the first time I’ve seen them happy for such a long time.”
“How do you suggest I do that?”
“Just pretend. Pretend you have all the powers of Yeh Ming.”
“They’ll find out soon enough.”
“Perhaps. But let them have hope for now. There isn’t much of that around here. Give their hearts a lift until we’ve buried Auntie Zhong. Then I’ll tell you why we’re here and see if your science and medicine can help us at all. Can we do that?”
“If you think it will help.”
“I do. Now I think we should get back. Your sleeping partner will think I’ve stolen you from her.”
Siri froze halfway between a sit and a stand.
“My what?”
“Ber. She’ll keep you warm tonight.”
Siri sat back down.
“Actually, I don’t suffer from the cold. Don’t feel it at all, in fact.”
“We all sleep together, guests included. There’s nothing sexual about it. You’ll offend Long if you refuse.”
“Then just this once let him be offended. I tell you what. I’ll sleep here in the shaman’s hut. You can make up some story…I don’t know, say I have to absorb the spells here or something.”
“It’s musty here.”
“I’ve slept in worse.”
“Very well. I’ll get you a lamp and some bedding.” A laugh she’d been trying to suppress escaped through her nose.
“What is it?” Siri asked.
“I’ve never known a man with so many wrinkles to be so afraid of a little female company. It’s sweet.”
He watched her scurry off across the compound. So young. So frisky and bright. And all at once the face of Madame Daeng embossed itself on the inside of his dirty old mind.
Phosy’s police-issue lilac Vespa seemed grateful for the fact that it only had one small hill to negotiate on its journey out to the National Pedagogical Institute at Dong Dok. With Dtui riding sidesaddle on the back it had a lot to prove. Each pop of its motor was like a small blood vessel bursting. Both riders had scarves across their mouths and noses to keep out the dust that seemed to hover above the roads for hours after the passing of each army truck.
Dong Dok was the next logical stage in the Lizard hunt. The previous evening they’d listened to their visitor, Bounlan, tell of her studies at the English Department of the nearest thing Laos had to a university. In 1964, she and thirty other teachers from around the country had been invited to the new Pedagogical Institute for a six-month course to upgrade the standard of their teaching. The woman whose photograph was on the poster had come from somewhere in the south. If Bounlan remembered correctly, her name was Phonhong, although most of the students called her by her nickname,
“Is that why you brought me to your village?”
“For the stick? We all believe it’s connected somehow, but, no, Yeh Ming. Not for the stick.”
“Then why?”
“Surely you know. Elder Long has forbidden us to talk about it.”
“I have no idea.”
“He said you’d know it – sense it.”
“Bao, I’m a doctor of scientific medicine. I’m not a shaman. Yeh Ming isn’t my name. I’m Dr Siri Paiboun. I’m just a sort of living, breathing container for Yeh Ming’s spirit. I can’t even talk to him.”
A look of horror came over her face.
“But everyone has so much faith in you.”
“I’m sorry.”
For a long while the only sound was the chirruping of night insects and water dripping into the house jar Siri broke the deadlock.
“Look. I do have some…connection to the spirits. I see them. I can’t control them at all but I see them. Sometimes they give me clues.”
“Clues?”
“You know? Hints. I have to work out what they mean. Perhaps if you told me why I’m here I could see whether…”
“Yes, Yeh Ming.” She didn’t seem at all heartened by this suggestion. “Let’s try that. Do you think…?”
“Think what?”
“Do you think we can keep this from Long and the others? There have been so many catastrophes. This is the first time I’ve seen them happy for such a long time.”
“How do you suggest I do that?”
“Just pretend. Pretend you have all the powers of Yeh Ming.”
“They’ll find out soon enough.”
“Perhaps. But let them have hope for now. There isn’t much of that around here. Give their hearts a lift until we’ve buried Auntie Zhong. Then I’ll tell you why we’re here and see if your science and medicine can help us at all. Can we do that?”
“If you think it will help.”
“I do. Now I think we should get back. Your sleeping partner will think I’ve stolen you from her.”
Siri froze halfway between a sit and a stand.
“My what?”
“Ber. She’ll keep you warm tonight.”
Siri sat back down.
“Actually, I don’t suffer from the cold. Don’t feel it at all, in fact.”
“We all sleep together, guests included. There’s nothing sexual about it. You’ll offend Long if you refuse.”
“Then just this once let him be offended. I tell you what. I’ll sleep here in the shaman’s hut. You can make up some story…I don’t know, say I have to absorb the spells here or something.”
“It’s musty here.”
“I’ve slept in worse.”
“Very well. I’ll get you a lamp and some bedding.” A laugh she’d been trying to suppress escaped through her nose.
“What is it?” Siri asked.
“I’ve never known a man with so many wrinkles to be so afraid of a little female company. It’s sweet.”
He watched her scurry off across the compound. So young. So frisky and bright. And all at once the face of Madame Daeng embossed itself on the inside of his dirty old mind.
Phosy’s police-issue lilac Vespa seemed grateful for the fact that it only had one small hill to negotiate on its journey out to the National Pedagogical Institute at Dong Dok. With Dtui riding sidesaddle on the back it had a lot to prove. Each pop of its motor was like a small blood vessel bursting. Both riders had scarves across their mouths and noses to keep out the dust that seemed to hover above the roads for hours after the passing of each army truck.
Dong Dok was the next logical stage in the Lizard hunt. The previous evening they’d listened to their visitor, Bounlan, tell of her studies at the English Department of the nearest thing Laos had to a university. In 1964, she and thirty other teachers from around the country had been invited to the new Pedagogical Institute for a six-month course to upgrade the standard of their teaching. The woman whose photograph was on the poster had come from somewhere in the south. If Bounlan remembered correctly, her name was Phonhong, although most of the students called her by her nickname,
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