This is the second novel I’m currently working on. Bare in mind it’s really a rough draft, which means it’s sh*t. It wouldn’t worth the dung that had left in the sun to dry. But, hey its my dung.
Stood in front of a small mirror, Kieu gently added bit of red lipstick into her curvaceous lips. A dabbed of pink makeup on to her well-defined cheeks bones and a light touch of purple on to her eyes liner. Kieu, then, took a step backward. In the mirror, an image of a young, attractive girl reflected upon it. She astonished and amazed at the transformations, a simple farm girl had now looks like a sophisticated woman. And it started to occur to her, she had never wear makeup in her life. Growing up she always saw her mother did it in front of this same mirror and it was how she learned just from watching. She had wanted to try but every time she asked of her mother, only to be told she was too young. But today is different; today’s a special day, Kieu thought. It was Kieu’s wedding.
At sixteen, Kieu was preparing to be married. She would be taking on the role of a wife and eventually a mother. In her parents’ small bedroom while music bombarding outside, playing the many Vietnamese Wedding songs, Kieu couldn’t help but thought of Tuan. The friend she had known since she started school. Throughout grades school they had sat next to each other on the second row of the class. They had shares the many laughs and wonders in the world full of hope for their age. They became inseparable beyond the school playground, and together, they sneaked into the field holding hands and stealing glimpse at each other innocent eyes.
But all of that pure and unsullied time had changed two weeks ago. On her birthday, she learned her parents had accepted a marriage proposal on her behalf. Not to the boy she secretly held hand with, but to a foreign man three times her age.
The door creaked open, the music invaded the small room, brought with it the many cheers and congratulations by the singer belching in the karaoke player. But Kieu didn’t feel exuberance like the song had depicted, or ecstatic of being married, instead she felt emptied.
“Are you ready Kieu?” Mrs. Thieu queried. Kieu turned to look at her mother. An early 40ish woman, thin, heavy sun tan, and hands that had been slashed and sliced by the many days in the sugarcane field made visible by the many lines across her hands as she turned to close the door.
“Can you help me mom?” Kieu quietly asked, holding on the small comb that suddenly felt so heavy.
Mrs. Thieu took the chair and placed it in front of the mirror for Kieu to sit down. With a comb in her hands, she combed the hair of her eldest daughter. The hair was long and silk like, complimented it was a smell of lilac, a flower that Kieu was very fond of.
In silent, Mrs. Thieu took her time stroking the black hair of her daughter like a dedicated artist painting the masterpiece of his life. The process itself wasn’t long or hard, but somehow to Mrs. Thieu it had taken on a different meaning. This would be the last time she laid her hands on her daughter, because after the wedding Kieu’s husband would take her away to a far place. And she would never see her daughter again. Mrs. Thieu couldn’t help and tears trailed down her cheeks.
“When you are in stranger’s land, take care of yourself. I won’t be there to help you anymore.” Mrs. Thieu said as she tried hard to hold her tears. But tears seemed to have a mind of it’s own, the more you held it, the more it came. Rolled down her cheeks and felt onto the earth.
“Wear additional layer when it’s cold out.” Mrs. Thieu added solemnly.
Kieu stood up, looking at her mother’s gentle eyes. All the years in the sugarcane field had lessen the once sparkle eyes of her mother, but it was still lingered like a diamond in the rough. The same eyes that for the past sixteen years had care, nurture, and love her, unconditionally.
“I’m sorry mom, I won’t be around to help you with the house and the field. You need to becarefull.” Kieu could no longer held the gushing emotions.
Together, mother and daughter, held each other in a warm embrace. Kieu cried. She cried for the many years of hardship that she would about to endure and for the sacrifice she made. Being the oldest in the family, Kieu didn’t have the luxury of freedom. She agreed to this marriage knowing full well, first, her family would get a big sum of money. That money alone would help out her family tremendously, especially in a poor home with too many mouths to feed. Second, she would no longer be a burden to her family. All the expenses paid for her school would cease to stop. Third, she could work and help out by sending money back. All of the benefits and the only trade-off was her heart, so she silently threw it away, locked it up behind a wall. And Tuan’s existence suffered the same fate. She kept telling herself that there was no such thing as freedom. Freedoms to love and live were just an illusion, like Buddha’s teachings.
The door swung wide open, the matchmaker walked in. Brought with her the pugnunt cologne that she had showered earlier. With her large body and large face, she loudly spoke to Kieu.
“Oh young blossom flower” The matchmaker gape at Kieu. “You need to hurry, you don’t want your groom to wait.” The matchmaker scuttled Kieu and Mrs. Thieu out the room into the family altar.
All of the village elders stood surrounding the small room. When Kieu appeared, the room went quiet and all the attentions turned toward her. The Matchmaker started her rituals welcome the groom to the village and presented his new bride.
Kieu couldn’t help her curiosity glared at the groom. A man in white suit stood from his chair. He looked much older than Kieu’s dad, wearing a thick silver- rimmed eyes glasses and hair with streak on both side of his ears. A large nose with a black moustache hanging underneath, accompanied by the glittering of thick gold chained around his neck, additions to the illumination were the reflection added by his gold teeth. The groom smiled when he caught Kieu’s eyes.
“This would be my husband?” Kieu thought, “This would be the man I would hold at night when I sleep, and the yellow teeth smile would be the mouth I had to kiss?” Stood next to her would-be-husband was Mr. Thieu, Kieu’s father. His bloodshot eyes, and hiccups giving ways to conclude that he was tipsy to the brink of failing to stand on his own two feet.
Kieu secretly wanted Tuan to show up and took her away. She wanted him to make a grand entrance into this wedding on a white unicorn, in front of everyone in the village declared his love for her. Importantly in front of her family and four younger siblings asked her hand in marriage instead of this old man soon to be her husband. Then he would take her onto his animal, and they both ride toward the sunset, where they would live happily ever after. But deep down inside Kieu knew it would never happen. And if it were to happen would she left her family behind and be with Tuan? The question lingered in her mind. Probably not, Kieu answered. A total obedience had been ingrained into her since birth.
Like any other traditions, the Vietnamese tradition in total obience to ones parents was ingrained into every Vietnamese children, especially in a society where male was worth more than female. The idea that as a parents they have the life experience, and knowledge, of life, of social hierarchy, to know what was good for their children. As children all that was required was to listen and obey, without any question. To ask or to go against were to be treated as insubordination. And to fail in filial responsibility as a child was worse than death.
When The Matchmaker finished telling the gathered elders how rich and how lucky Kieu was to be chosen by the Foreign man. To finish it off, the Matchmaker even counted out loud the endowment money in front of everyone. Kieu couldn’t help to feel like she had been traded. Like a commodity in a town market, where she had been brought and sold. For a sum of money she was now belong to someone else to do what he pleased. Kieu felt so helpless, so sorry for the fate that she was born with. She thought of the Buddhist lecture at the village temple about the suffering of life. She was told that what ever happen in this life time were the results of the previous life’s experience. Kieu started to wonder, what had she done in pervious life that would had cost her freedom?
The Foreign man moved toward Kieu, put his arm around her, and everyone clap. The group taking turns congratulated her. One by one everyone move outside where tables had been arranged and the wedding party started.
Sat next to her newlywed husband Kieu looking around for Tuan, knowing full well that he wouldn’t show up. When she broke the news to him Tuan, he ran away without saying goodbye. Deep inside somewhere in her heart she wanted Tuan to be there. Just a chance to see him for the very last time. The music went on, the celebration continued but Tuan never showed up to rescue a damsel in distress.
A few of her classmates came around to see her and her four younger brothers: An, Phuc, Thinh, Vuong, came by to say goodbye. Being two years difference from each of their age, so young, the four of them just stood there and look at Kieu. Staring at their sister unable to speak. And beside what could they said to a sister that was getting at sixteen? She is sacrificing herself for the family.
“An, you are the oldest now, take good care of mom, and the three of you help An out as much as you can. Don’t go play all day.” Kieu commented. The four siblings nodded in agreement and move on with solemn heart.
Into the Van that would take Kieu to Ho Chi Minh City and onto an airplane to Korea, she couldn’t help but take a last look of a place she called home for the past sixteen years. A small barren hut with dirt floor, covered in aluminum that had been beat by acid rains turned brown and leak every rain season turned the house into a mud buddle. Her dad had been meaning to fix that roof for years but without funds to do so. On the right side of the house was a small kitchen that Kieu had labored everyday right after school. And further back was her parents’ bedroom, it more of a sleeping area than a bedroom. The six of them together sleep tightly pack into that every night.
“Without me sleeping with them tonight, they will have more room.” Kieu thought.
The van took off and left the small village Vinh Thoi behind. Kieu looked out the road as car passed by her school. A yellow cement school with a big flame tree in the middle and as she looked the wind gentle blew it like a wave saying goodbye to Kieu. Goodbye to the age of innocent. An age that forever would be in her memory, full of hope and carefree.
Comments