Fourth Uncle in the Mountain The Remarkable Legacy of a Buddhist Itinerant Doctor in Vietnam

Chapter One My Father Comes for Me July 1959 Cai Mon Village, Mekong Delta, South Vietnam One hot day in July, I looked up at the flesh-eating sun and taunted, "I can lick you with a flick of my hand. Oh, you don't believe me? Well, didn't you know that my father is the most powerful sorcerer in Vietnam? He can go to the forbidden mountain anytime he wants to. Watch out, I'm going to squash you like a lightning bug." I sucked in my breath so strong that I sucked the storm clouds closer and closer together until they banged into each other and snuffed out the fire-breather. They crashed together a second time and split themselves open like fish bellies full of roe and sprayed me with their wet bullets until they coated me in armor. Our ducks appeared around my legs looking for worms, but I found them first and put them into my calabash gourd. I grabbed my net and my line and took off down the path to meet my friends. It was good fishing weather. I was going to fish by the big bridge about half a mile from my house. It wasn't really bigger than any other bridge, it was just longer because it crossed over the widest river in Cai Mon. It was a kind of meeting place. In the blurry distance I thought I saw my father coming across the bridge. He didn't come to visit very often, only six or seven times a year. I ran closer and peered at him through the raindrops. He was carrying so many packages that he could barely hold on to the handrail. Someone who didn't know who he was might have been alarmed to see an old monk balancing along a single bamboo pole in the rain with so many things in his arms, but I was never afraid for my father, even though he was older than a grandfather. I wondered what kind of food he brought for us this time. He didn't eat much meat, but sometimes he brought sections of a roasted pig that he had received as payment for chanting at a funeral. He liked to bring me special treats we couldn't get in Cai Mon, like French butter cookies and coconut caramel and sugarcane rock candy. This time he was carrying more than usual. It was too good to be true. My mouth started watering. He called out to me, "Quang, hurry, take this before it falls into the river." He handed me two bamboo birdcages full of birds. In his arms were three more cages. He must have just bought them from a birdcatcher at the Cai Mon bus stop. "I didn't bring you any presents this time, because today I am taking you home with me." "Can I go with you another time? Trung's father said that Trung and I could help him on his fishing boat this week." They fished on the Mekong and sometimes on the ocean. The best part was that on the way home Trung's father grilled up all the fish, lobsters, and shrimp we could eat. "I don't think so, son." We walked in single file back to the house. We always walked in single file so people going the other way could have room to pass on foot, bicycle, or motorbike. Nobody liked to step into the tall grass just in case a Communist guerrilla or a French soldier had put a land mine there overnight. I had to walk fast to keep up with my father. A big canal ran through my aunt's backyard. We kept our boat moored to a tall willow tree that shaded the house. My favorite tree was in the front yard. It was a trung ca tree. Aunt Gioi (pronounced Yoi) used the boat to stock up on provisions for her store. It would take us a long time to get to the market because she would always go on the smaller rivers, in order to avoid the big boats and ships on the Mekong River. Aunt Gioi told me that whenPivar, Marjorie is the author of 'Fourth Uncle in the Mountain The Remarkable Legacy of a Buddhist Itinerant Doctor in Vietnam', published 2006 under ISBN 9780312314316 and ISBN 0312314310.