Thorn Bird - Five short stories about half a tamarind tree

Half a tamarind tree

It's because I was a child and I was happy to travel. It's because not only the whole family but also relatives from far away come with me.

Since that time, I have been happy to return to the village. Then, I look forward to the donation in the summer.

Looking forward to the school water pump. Looking forward to the pagoda umbrella. Similarly, my father (in our area, we call him father) also worked hard to return to the village every year. And he did it again. While selling yokes everywhere on the asphalt road in the city, we used to go back to the village once a year to drink the village water, breathe the village air, eat the village food, and talk to our brothers and sisters while exchanging loans. In this way, my father satisfied his life's boredom. In this way, he paid homage to the village priest, the teacher, and the old monk. In this way, my father argued with the old monks about the cow.

At times like these, I would pull my father's cloth and go wherever he went. As I ate the popcorn balls that the monk of the mountain offered, I would bite into them, and my father and the monk would talk tirelessly.

We know about Taw Pyan, about Kyaung U Thein, about Kyaung Mwe Ya, and about the monk U May Dha.

While eating the fried beans that my aunt Hla Htwe had prepared, I listened to U Kyi Ba Aye and my father talk about the mountain pastures, the cows of Thit Kyin Gyi, and the flowers of Pan Chin Ya. Some of the days when I was visiting the village were the days when my father and U Kyi Ba Aye would drive a small cart and go to the fields not far from the village with a good herd of cows. Then I would follow the cart in the small cart house. That journey was my father's journey as a child. My father would drive the cart himself. While driving like this, he would say things like "What's the turn?" and "What's the end?" in cow language that I didn't understand. This journey to the fields sometimes went as far as the monastery in Pauk Sain Pauk village.

Once you get to Pauk Sain Pauk Monastery , you will enter the `Chaung Min Kui' area on the Mang Kye Myint Road. In fact, Chaung Min Kui is our area.

“This is the best farm in the area. Look at your land. It’s not like other farms. It’s been doing it since your father’s time. I’ve been doing it for my son’s life. It’s better than anyone else’s,” U Kyi Ba Aye used to tell his father. That’s why we know that U Kyi Ba Aye is currently working on the Chaung Min Kui farm that we own.

In fact, my grandfather's last possession was only Chaung Min Kui Ya, Pan Chin Ya, and a little gold.

The Panchin farm is not as good as the other farm. One of my father's sisters is working it. When we reach Chaungmin Kui farm, we have to follow the cart path that leads into the farm. After we get there, we unload the cart at the farm hut on the south bank of the creek. The farm hut has a pot of drinking water. There is a bamboo hut. There is a big thana tree next to the farm hut. Then there is a sycamore tree that U Kyi Ba Aye brought seeds and planted when he visited Mandalay. The sycamore tree is protected by a thorn fence. The farm is about ten acres in size.

When they arrived at the farm, U Gyi Ba Aye lit a fire with three stones, which was like a hearth, and brought some dry firewood from nearby.

I picked it up and made a fire. I put water from the drinking water pot in the kettle in the hut and boiled it. Sometimes it went down the stream and didn't come out. My father and I would walk around the farm and look around, and when the water was boiling, he would come back with a thin metal bucket and a clay pot.

“When Konita and I arrived at the palm grove, we saw that the pot was covered with leaves. We picked some dogwood leaves from the stream and cooked them, brother. We also brought some pine syrup.”

He said. The waiter brought the coconut milk and foam from the clay pot to the bamboo basket on the ship, wiped it with a towel, and poured it into the cup. He also handed me a coconut milk.

“Drink, Ye Kyaw, forest pill. When you get to the forest, follow the forest.”

"I say that." I regret not having eaten the freshly cooked and hot Putat and Kwu Taek at that time. Anyway, the most memorable thing I remember about my childhood trip back to the village was "Chaung Min Kwi Ya".

When I returned from the office, I found U Gyi Ba Aye at home. After four, five, six years of not seeing him, I noticed that U Gyi Ba Aye was very depressed.

“Hey, Kyaw Kyi, are you like this too? What kind of job do you have now? After graduating, don’t you get a job as a city employee?” he asked. The father sat down on the back chair and

“I’m asking because I haven’t seen you since I arrived. I told you I’d be back in the evening,” he told me.

I sat down next to U Gyi Ba Aye and asked, “When did you come? Are you just visiting?” He said, “No. I came with U Pyin Sin. I came to buy food.

"'Tama' is not going to donate this summer. You guys have to come and make it happen."

"My father and I laughed."

Yes, yes. We haven’t been to the village for a long time. It’s not even a long time. There used to be a Mandalay, Butalin, and Lakal train. It left Mandalay at five in the morning and arrived in Butalin at eleven in the afternoon. It left Butalin immediately and returned to Mandalay at six in the evening. It was diesel-powered and on time. That train no longer exists.

When the train was available, it was convenient for my father, who was prone to motion sickness. Now that the train is no longer available, my father has to work hard to get a car. If he had taken a car, he could have stayed in Monywa for a night or two before continuing on to Butalin. This meant that he could no longer travel to Sha, which he usually does every summer.

"Hey.. if I'm feeling as good as I am now, I'll come. I'll be able to cross over after spending two nights in Monywa. I want to go back."

"Brother. I also want to drink some village water. I also want to eat some bean rice and urad dal. I haven't been here since Aung Kyaw donated it," said the father.

"I'll take leave from the office and go with you, Uncle."

"I still have to say it." U Gyi Ba Aye nodded, blowing on the hot water. After a while, my mother came from the stove.

“Kai... Kai... Ko Ba Aye, let’s eat,” he called out. He also said to his father, “Boy and son, let’s eat together.”

Of.

Instead of eating, I was thinking about returning to the village this summer, and I was starting to feel a little excited.

That summer, I came to the village. It was U Kyi Ba Aye's daughter's donation. This time, my father, mother, sister, and I were there. It was a long time since I had returned to the village in such a complete state. The one who was especially happy was my father. It was his village, and he would meet his old friends. He would meet his relatives. Not only that, he would drive the cart to the nearby farms, to Pauk Sein Pauk School, like a donkey, like a donkey. In addition, wouldn't U Kyi Ba Aye and I go to the Chaung Min Kui farm? In the farm, we would cook with dogwood leaves and putat, and drink palm juice.

Yes, yes. That's right. But this time, I'm going to use other words, and I'm going to use a different word.

I didn’t go to school either. I only went to “Chaung Min Kui” Ya. Not with a cart. Just with an ordinary cart. My father didn’t drive the cart. And neither did U Gyi Ba Aye. U Gyi Ba Aye’s son-in-law drove. My father, U Gyi Ba Aye, me, and U Gyi Ba Aye’s son-in-law, Ko Phoe Hla, went to “Chaung Min Kui” Ya.

In fact, since I was young , going to Chaung Min Kwi was just a fun trip, but it was only when I arrived that I realized that I had come to this place for work.

After arriving at the farm, we unloaded the cart at the tent, tied the cows under the shade of the tangerine tree, took a handful of peanuts, fed the cows, lit a fire in the stove, and boiled water in an earthen pot. After that, Ko Phoe Hla sat down next to us on the bamboo mat. He took off the cloth he had been wearing and wiped his sweat. Then he turned to his father and said,

"

Uncle Kaung will also tell you with great sadness. This year, I have been busy with my donations. So, next summer, Uncle

I will cut this matter as Kaung said. But last night, I asked U Aye and he said that what Kaung took was deducted.

"I still have three thousand to pay. I'll pay it by the end of next summer."

He said. I looked at my father as if I didn't understand. He said,

“This is it, my son, let’s be honest. My father has been pawning this yak to Ko Ba Aye for a long time. You should know that since you were in the eighth grade. Every year, my father goes back to the village and takes a little money from Ko Ba Aye. Last year, as you know, my father ran out of money for medicine, so I told Ko Ba Aye to sell it all at once. When I added up the cost of the yak and the value of the yak, Ko Ba Aye only had to pay three thousand. That’s what Maung Po Hla said to take next year.”

He explained to me. At the same time, he turned to Ko Po Hla.

"Okay, okay. I'm the one who's going to tell you. I know you're giving a lot. We'll give you thanks in return."