A Well-tempered Heart (35 page)

“Ko Bo Bo was not as rough as the rest of us, and we quickly struck up a friendship. At first I felt an obligation to protect him, small and wispy as he was. But our first mission
together was so grim, and he was so brave. He saved the life of an infant. Did Maung Tun tell you about that?”

“Yes.”

“It was clear to me then that he did not need me to watch over him. At least no more or less than anyone else. We could all have used someone to protect us. From the soldiers. From the rebels. From ourselves. But that’s something different; that’s not what I mean. Ko Bo Bo could take care of himself. And others.

“I had never in my life known such a kindred spirit. I have since then had a long time to ponder why that was so. I felt good whenever he was nearby. A curious thing to say when you consider our circumstances, but there it was. He brought me peace without need for many words. He gave me joy without cause. Unfounded joy is the most beautiful and most difficult. He gave me the courage to live. His presence, one glance, one smile sufficed, and I knew that I was not alone. It was that simple, that complicated. Does that make sense?”

“Yes,” I answered again, although I wasn’t really sure it did. I didn’t want to interrupt him with a question.

“That was the greatest gift of all. Not to be alone in a place where everyone was thinking only of personal survival. Where they would have beaten you to death if they thought it would buy them one more day. Loneliness is the most severe punishment. We are not built to handle it. I’ve seen many porters and several soldiers die. Those who had strength to say anything before they died invariably called
out for other people. Not for their enemies, but for people who loved them. For their mothers. Their fathers. Their wives. Their children. No one wants to be lonely.

“But Ko Bo Bo had taught me something else. Something more important still.”

Thar Thar faltered. I looked at him expectantly.

“What it means to love.”

“Were you …?” I didn’t dare to finish the sentence.

“That, too.” He paused, took a deep breath. “But that’s not what I mean. Ko Bo Bo loved someone else besides. His brother. Her brother.”

I didn’t know what he was talking about.

“Was his brother in the camp, too?”

“Her brother.”

“Why
her
brother? Thar Thar, I can’t understand a word of it. Help me.”

“There was no Ko Bo Bo. That was an invention. Ko Bo Bo’s name was Maw Maw, and he was a girl. A young woman.”

A catch in my breath. “How … how do you know … I mean …” It took a while before I could form a complete sentence. What was a woman doing in the camp? How had she gotten there? Why had Maung Tun said nothing about it?

Thar Thar said nothing. He fixated on the stupa, tears running down his cheeks, but his face was unmoved.

“I had long suspected he was hiding something from me,” he whispered without looking at me. “One day we were washing clothes at the river together. He slipped and
fell into the water. Ko Bo Bo was not a strong swimmer. I jumped in after him and pulled him out. For a few seconds we stood there face to face, soaking wet, without a word. His shirt, his longyi, were clinging to his body, her body … She might as well have stood there naked …”

We sat next to each other, not saying anything while I tried to put my thoughts in order. Thar Thar’s eyes were still on the crumbling masonry before us.

“I didn’t realize that the military exploited young women as porters, too.”

“They don’t.”

“So how did Ko Bo Bo …?” I asked softly.

“Maw Maw.”

“… Maw Maw end up at the camp?”

“She disguised herself as a boy.”

I reached for his hand. “Who would have made her do that?”

“No one.”

“She volunteered?”

“Yes.”

The more I learned, the less sense it made. What possible reason could a person have to volunteer to go to that hell? Why had she been willing to pay so high a price? For what?

“Thar Thar?”

Still he was not looking at me.

“Why did she do that?”

He ignored my question.

“Why did she disguise herself as a boy?” I asked again.

Thar Thar lifted his head and looked me right in the eye: “Because she loved. And because she understood what that means.”

“Who did she love so much? Who did she do it for?”

“For her brother.”

“Her brother?” I echoed incredulously. How could a young woman make such a sacrifice for her brother, of all people?

“She had a twin brother. He was ten minutes younger than his big sister. The two of them were apparently inseparable. Right from birth. Their mother told them that as infants they would wail the moment the other one wasn’t there, and they wouldn’t stop until they lay side by side again. If one of them came down with a fever, it wasn’t long before the other one was sick, too. They got their first teeth on the same day. Their second teeth, too. Maw Maw was the first to walk. Her brother took his first steps holding her hand, until they both fell. As children they would never let the other one out of their sight. Sometimes it seemed to their parents as if one soul had been divided into two bodies. They lived in their own world, where they were sufficient unto themselves. When hurt, they did not look to their mother or father for comfort, but to each other. No one in the village had seen anything like it. Everyone called them little barnacles because of the way they clung to each other.

“When the soldiers came, going from house to house and taking all the young men, Maw Maw’s parents and brother
were working in a field a good distance away. They wouldn’t be back before dark. Maw Maw heard the soldiers’ voices from afar, and she felt sick with horror. Like everyone else, she knew what would happen, that none of those who were taken would come back alive. She told me she thought her heart had stopped beating out of fear for her brother. Seeing his things hanging on the wall gave her the idea. Maw Maw quickly put them on and pretended to be him. From that moment on, she said, she was very calm. None of the soldiers noticed anything. She went to death for him. Can you fathom it?”

“No.” It slipped out quietly. Had I ever loved anyone so dearly that I would have let myself be tortured for him? That I would have sacrificed myself for him?

“I couldn’t understand it, either. Not at first. But what did I know about love? Nothing, Julia, nothing at all.

“Maw Maw taught me that a person is capable of anything. Not only of any wickedness. Every sacrifice she made was a small triumph over evil, if you understand what I mean. For me it was as precious as a cup of water to a person dying of thirst. Did Maung Tun tell you what things were like in the camp?”

“Yes.”

“It was dreadful. Several of us went mad with fear. Some porters pulled their own hair out, wept incessantly, or banged their heads against the beams until the soldiers came and shot them. A mercy killing they called it. As if we were rabid dogs. Did he tell you that, too?”

“No.”

“Maw Maw reminded us with every kick, every blow that she withstood without caving in that there was a power the soldiers could not vanquish.

“When she went hungry because again they had given us no rice, she did it for her brother. When they tortured us and Maw Maw had to stand on one leg in the sun until she fell over, she suffered for his sake. And for ours.”

He was quiet for a moment. “She was the bravest person I have ever met. Her sacrifices gave me the courage to live. And through them she brought my heart into tune, a little more day by day, without my realizing it. At some point all of my bitterness had dissipated. My rage and resentment, my anger and my hatred just dried up. Like a brook with no more spring to feed it.”

Slowly he turned to me and gently pulled me closer to him. Little beads of sweat dotted his brow and shaven head. I noticed only now that he was shivering, and I put my arms around him. We sat long in silence, side by side, holding each other tightly, as if seeking shelter.

The sun was already low in the sky when he stood up, brushed the hair out of my face, and started to kiss me. On my forehead, my eyes, my lips. He picked me up, I wrapped my legs around his hips, and he carried me behind the stupa.

AND ONCE AGAIN
I felt him intensely like no man before him.

Heard his rhythmic breathing. Lost myself in his unfamiliar, exhilarating scent.

Amid flowers and fruits who told their stories silently.

Behind a pagoda that refused to give in to the laws of gravity.

Amid temples and altars inhabited by hope.

As if there was something that could shield us and our happiness. Be it spirits. Or stars.

THE NEXT MORNING
Moe Moe woke me again. For one brief, wonderful moment I imagined I was still lying in Thar Thar’s arms. His warm hand on my belly.

Moe Moe knelt down beside me, and I saw right away that something had happened. Hers was not the smile of a cheerful person. She set the tea on the floor and cast her eyes down the moment they met mine. On top of the cup was a note that had been folded many times.

“For you,” she said, handing it to me.

“A letter? For me? Are you sure?”

Neither my smile nor my English got any reaction. She merely nodded, rose again, and made her way quickly out. Why the hurry? Had she noticed that Thar Thar and I had slipped out again in the night? What happiness I had found in the shed?

With pounding heart I unfolded the paper. Inside I found a scattering of dried jasmine blossoms.

Dearest Julia,

Never before have I written lines as difficult as these. Never before have I held the pen in quivering hand. Never have words occasioned such pain as the ones I must now set to paper.

Foreboding stole over me of what might follow.