(TN: the story was written in 1943 when Vietnam was still under French occupation, it tells the lives of those living under French colonialism. This story is written by a famous Vietnamese author named Nam Cao and is very famous in Vietnam, it even made it ways into Vietnamese literature textbook. Below is a rough translation of mine that i want to share to a wider audience)
Old Hac lights a piece of straw. I already cleared the pipe and put in the herb. I invite him to smoke first. But he doesn’t listen…
- You go first
He gives me the light…
-Thank you…
I take it and smoke the pipe. After one breath, I clear the pipe before putting it into his lap. He puts the herb in but doesn’t smoke. He takes the light, the astray and says:
-Maybe I’ll sell the dog, Teach! (TN: that is the respectful way of refer to a teacher back in the day in Vietnam, the storyteller is much younger than Old Hac)
He puts the pipe to his mouth and smokes. I breath out some smoke, and with the eyes of a man in high, look at him to pretend that I care about what he just said. In truth, I don’t care much for it. I have heard that line a hundred times before. I also know: that is just something he says; he never actually does it. Beside, what if he did? Why would selling a dog be the cause for so much worries?
Old Hac takes a breath, puts the pipe down, turns around and breaths out some smoke. After a puff of Thuoc Lao (TN: a traditional Vietnamese herb, usually smoked through a bamboo pipe), your mind becomes numb in a calming pleasure. Old Hac sits quietly, enjoying that tiny bit of pleasure. I sit quietly as well. I remember my books. When I was sick in Saigon, I sold all my clothes, yet I didn’t sell a single book. When I got better, I went back home, my luggage consisted of a single suitcase filled with books. Oh my precious books! I wanted to keep them for the rest of my life, to keep the memories of a time when I was hardworking, optimistic and full of trust in the beauty and the noble in life: every time I opened a book, without reading a word, I would feel like a sun was rising in me, the image of the crystal clear, detestable and lovable 20s…But there is never only one sorrow in life. There was this one time when I was at the end of the rope, I sold everything and then I had to sell some of books. In the end, I only had 5 left, I decided I would keep them, even if I died, I wouldn’t sell a single one. Yet I sold them after all! Only a month before, my child came down with dysentery…No! Old Hac! We don’t have any right to hold on to what we love! Your dog is nothing compared to my 5 precious books…
That is what I think. But Old Hac, what is he thinking? Suddenly, he tells me:
-Hey! My son, it has been a year and he hasn’t send me any letter, Teach!
Oh! He was thinking of his son. He has been away on a rubber plantation for 6 years. When I got back, he already finished a term. Old Hac, brought me his letters, asked me to look at it. It seemed he asked for an extension…Old Hac then explains why he was talking about his dog and now his son:
-The dog is his!…He bought it and intended to kill it for meat when he get married…
Ah! Life is usually like that. People plan but rarely can they do. The two of them were very much in love. The girl parents knew that so they agreed to the marriage. But they asked for too much: a hundred silver dong upfront, and then areca berries (TN: a traditional Vietnamese fruit that is usually eaten during weddings), and then wine…counting the wedding, that is 200 silver dong (TN: Vietnamese currency at the time) at least. Old Hac couldn’t afford it. His son wanted to sell the field to meet their demands. But he didn’t agree. Who would sell their field to get married? Even if you did, if you sold it, where would you and your wife go? Beside, to be real, if the bride family was that persistent, even selling the field wouldn’t be enough. Old Hac knew that but he didn’t want to make a fuss. He talked his son out of it. He told him to give this one up and after a while, save up for another one that is cheaper; even if you cant marry this one, there are others; this village doesn’t have only one girl!…Thank god! He was a fine man, when he heard his father said that, he gave it up and didn’t talk about getting married again. Though he seemed sad. And Old Hac knew he still tried to get with the other girl. He felt sorry for his son. But what can he do?…October that year, she got married; she married the son of a local official, the family had wealth. He was furious. A few days later, he went to the registration center, gave his card and signed up to work at a rubber plantation…
With water in his eyes, Old Hac tells me:
-Before he left, he gave me 3 silver dong, Teach! I don’t know how much he got after giving his card and taking out a loan but he gave me 3 dong. He gave me 3 dong and said: “This I give to you, eat what you want every once in a while; I haven’t take care of you in my time here so don’t worry about me when I am gone; you try to live off the field and do some work, that’ll be enough; this time, I am determined to make it big, I’ll only get back when I have hundreds of silver dong, without money, it is a disgrace living in this village!…”. I could only cry. What else can I do? His card, they took it. He took their money. He is theirs already, he isn’t my son anymore…
*
Oh Old Hac! Now I know why you don’t want to sell your dog. You only have him left to keep you company. Your wife is dead. Your son is gone. You are old and yet, day and night, you are by yourself, who wouldn’t get lonely? When he is lonely, at least the dog can ease the pain. He calls it Cau Vang (TN: Mr. Yellow/Gold, probably due to the color of his fur) like an old mother would call her only son. Sometimes, when he has nothing to do, he would catch the fleas in his fur or give him a bath in the pond. He lets him eat from a bowl like a rich person. Whatever he eats, he would give it some. Every night, when he drinks, it would lay next to his feet. He would give it some snack like an adult would give a child. He jokingly mocks him, talks to him about his son like a grandpa would to a grandchild. He tells him this:
-Do you miss your father? Do you Cau Vang? Your father hasn’t sent any letter home lately. Your father has been gone for 3 years…more than 3 years…maybe even 4…I wonder if he will come back by the end of this year? If he does and he gets married, he will kill you. You better be careful!
The dog looks up, expressionless; Old Hac stares into its eyes and yells:
-He will kill you! Do you understand? If I let him, you will be done for!
The dog thinks its owner is angry at it, it wags it tail trying to appease him. Old Hac yells even louder:
-You happy? Wagging your tail? Even then you would be dead! You’re gonna die!
Seeing the man’s temper rises, the dog wags its tail and runs around. But he grabs the dog, pulls its head into his chest, strokes it back and says:
-Oh no! Oh no! We can’t let that happen!…My Cau Vang is such a good boy! I won’t allow it…You stay with me…
He lets go of the dog, picks up the cup and takes a sip. He spaces out a bit then suddenly sighs. Then he does some calculation in his head. He is thinking of the field…
After his son left, he wondered: “This field is for my son. When his mother was alive, she saved bit by bit to get 50 silver dong. Back then, things were cheap…His mother saved for it, he must be the one to inherit it. Before when he tried to sell it, I didn’t agree to it because I was thinking of his future, not for myself. He doesn’t have the money to get married, the rage pushed him to go until he has enough money. Even if I sell some of the field, I have to leave some for him; so when he returns, if he doesn’t have enough, I can support him some part, if he already has enough, it will be capital for them to make a living…”. He tells himself that and he does exactly that. He makes a living working for others. The money he made from the field, he leaves it alone. He is sure that when his son returns, he would have a hundred silver dong…
He shakes his head and tells me:
-Alas, there is nothing left, Teach! I just got sick one time. One time that lasted two months and 18 days, Teach! Two months and 18 days without making a dime, and then there is the medicine, the food…How much money do you think I spent?…
After that time, Old Hac got much weaker. He couldn’t do hard labor anymore. The village doesn’t sell fabric anymore. The women became unemployed. Whatever light labor there was, they gobbled it up. Old Hac has nothing to do. And then there is the storm. All the crops were destroyed. From the storm till now, his field has nothing to sell. The rice keeps dwindling. An old man and his dog only eat 3 hao (TN: an old Vietnamese currency unit, 10 hao = 1 dong) of rice a day and yet they are still dirt poor…
-Cau Vang eats even more than me Teach. Everyday, he eats at least 1 and a half to 2 hao. If this keeps up, how can I feed him? But if he gets too thin, he won’t fetch a good price, wouldn’t that be a shame? Now, he is healthy as a bull, people would pay big money for that…
He pauses for a moment then clicks his tongue:
-Might as well sell him! Every bit of money matters. Every bit I spent now is a bit on my son’s credit. The more I spend, the worse off he will be. What is there left for me to do?
*
The day after, Old Hac goes to my place. The moment he sees me, he says:
-Cau Vang is gone, Teach!
-You sold it?
-I did. Just now.
He tried to appear happy. But his smile looks likes a frown, with water streaming out of his eyes, I just want to hug him and cry. Now I don’t feel so bad about my 5 books anymore. I worry about him. I ask him to start a conversation:
-Did it let them catch it?
His face suddenly shrivels up. The wrinkles on his face push together to squeeze the tears out. His head tilts toward one side and his toothless mouth opens up like that of a child crying. He cries…
-Goddamn…Teach! He didn’t know anything! He saw me calling for him so he just ran back, wagging his tail. I fed him rice. As he was eating, Muc who was hiding in the corner caught him by his legs and pulled him up. Muc and Xien then tied his legs up. Only then does he know he is gonna die! Hey! Teach! His breed is a smart one! He looked like he was blaming me; he winced softly like he was telling me: “Ah! You bastard! I was good to you and this is how you treat me?”. Even in this old age, I tricked a dog, he trusted me and I tricked him!
I comfort him:
-That’s all in your head, he doesn’t understand! Beside, who doesn’t raise their dog to sell or kill for meat? We are doing him a favor by letting him go to a better place, to live a better life as something else.
He sourly answers:
-You’re right! If living as a dog is so miserable then we let him reincarnate as a man, maybe he will live a somewhat good life…a life like mine!…
I look at him:
-Everyone’s life is the same! Do you think my life is any better?
-If even a man’s life is miserable then what life should we live to be happy?
He laughs and coughs. I grabs his skinny shoulder and says softly:
-There is no life that is truly happy but there is happiness: You sit here, I go boil some sweet potato, brew a thick pot of tea; you and I, we eat potato, we drink tea and smoke some Thuoc Lao…that is happiness.
-Yes! You’re right Teach! For us, that is happiness.
He then laughs a bit. The laughter sounds forced but he seems to have calmed down. I happily says:
-Alright? Then you sit here, I’ll go boil some potato and prepare the tea
-I was just saying that, maybe another time Teach?…
-Why the wait?…One should never postpone happiness. Just sit here! I’ll be done in a jiff…
-I know, but there is something I want to ask of you…
His face hardens…
-What is it?
-Teach, let me…it is a bit long
-Please
-It is like this, Teach!
And he talks. He talks softly and in details. The gist of it is that there are two things. First: he is old, his son is gone and still young, if he has no one to take care of him, it would be hard for him to work the field in this village. I am an educated man, people respect me so he wants to entrust the field to me, he will write me a deed so that people wouldn’t suspect it; when his son gets back, he will tend to the field but the land will still be under my name so I can look after him…Second: he is old, he may die anytime, his son isn’t home. If he dies with no one around and has to bother the neighbor, he wouldn’t be able to rest in peace. He has about 25 silver dong with the 5 he’s got from selling the dog, that makes 30 in total, he wants me to keep it so if he dies, I would tell the neighbor and asks them to pitch in to help him with the rest…
I laughs:
-Why do you worry so much? You’re still strong, you won’t die yet! Keep that money for yourself, worry about it when you are dead! Why save now and starve yourself?
-No, Teach! If I eat it all, what will be left when I die? It is what it is, but if I sell the field and spend it all, what will be left for my son? He has no wife, no child. What if he can’t handle it and want to sell the land?…I beg of you! If you have any pity for an old man like me, please take care of the money.
He insists profusely, I have to accept. When he leaves I asks:
-If you leave me everything, how will you eat?
He smiles softly:
-It’s ok! I already made plans for it…It will be done.
Everyday after, I saw Old Hac eats nothing but potato. Eventually, even that runs out. From then, what he can make, he eats. One day, he eats some banana, another some boiled fruit, maybe some grass, clamps, snails. I told my wife his story. She was annoyed:
-Serves him right! It’s not like he doesn’t have money! He does this to himself! We aren’t any better off, why help him? Even our child is hungry…
Oh! For those around us, if we don’t try to understand them then we can only see them as ignorant, petty, ugly, shameless…all reasons for us to be cruel; never do we see them as the miserable: never do we feel for them…My wife isn’t a bad person but he has gone through a lot. A man with a bad foot would never forgets his own pain to care for the pain of another. When they suffer too much, they stop caring about others. The good nature of man is buried under all the worries and selfish pains. Knowing that, I’m just sad, not angry. I hide it from my wife and help Old Hac from time to time. It seems he knows that my wife doesn’t take kindly to him. He refuses everything I give him, in an almost obnoxious way. And then he slowly drifts away from me…
He doesn’t understand, I think, and that makes me even sadder. Poor people with pride are like that. They are easily offended. It is hard to please them…One day, I complain about it to Binh Tu. Binh tu is another neighbor of mine: He is a thief so he doesn’t like the good nature Old Hac. He puckers his lips and says:
-He is just pretending! He might looks like it but he ain’t no slouch. He just asked me for some dog poison…
My eye widens in surprise. He whispers:
-He said there was a dog that kept wandering into his field…he plans to poison it. If it hits, he and I are going to have a feast.
Oh Old Hac! So it seems even you are capable of those things like everyone else. A man like that!…A man who cried because he tricked a dog!…A man who starved to save money for his own funeral because he doesn’t want to be a burden to the neighbors…That respectable man now has to follow in the foot steps of the likes of Binh Tu to feed himself? Life is indeed getting more and more depressed…
*
No! Life is not yet depressed, or may be it is but in a different way. After I go home from Binh Tu’s place, I hears some commotion coming from Old Hac’s house. I hurries over. The neighbors who came before me was talking loudly. I rushes in. Old Hac is struggling on his bed, his hair all rustled, his clothes half torn, his eyes rolling up and down. He howled with foam coming out of his mouth, his body twitches constantly, sometimes even bouncing up and down. Two grown men have to sit on him to keep him down. He struggles for two hours and dies. What a violent death. Nobody knows what disease could cause such a sudden and painful death. Only I and Binh Tu knows. But what is point of saying it out loud now? Oh Old Hac! Rest in peace! Don’t worry about your field. I will look after it. When your son comes home, I will give it to him and says: “This is the land that the man who raised you tried to leave to you intact: he would rather die than sell even a single patch…”.
(TN: the son is most likely never going to come back, working at a rubber plantation is a very tiring and dangerous job, most people don’t make it back alive. Here is my translation of a few short poem about working at a rubber plantation:
“Rubber is more valuable than man
When it gets sick, it gets treated
From eastern and western medicine
Day and night, It gets treated
But our sickly bodies
In pain we get no rest, in death no coffin”
“Such fine rubber trees
Each root got fed a human corpse”