Bronze and Sunflower Page 5

  “Are there any families with only boys, and no girls?”

  And so they continued, considering every family, one by one. Gayu’s family had only one child – Gayu – and from the looks of things, his mother wouldn’t be having more. They were also the wealthiest family in the village, having raised ducks for generations. But Gayu’s family wasn’t there.

  The crowd considered Bronze’s family, too. They had only one son, and he was a mute. But no one expected them to take Sunflower; they were too poor.

  Bronze’s family had come to see the little girl as well. But with the jostling of the crowd Nainai had trouble keeping her footing. Once she found a good place, she stopped, leant on her stick and stayed there. Bronze and his parents went to find somewhere else to stand.

  Nainai loved Sunflower from the moment she set eyes on her. Sunflower had never seen Nainai before, but she seemed familiar. They looked at each other. She loved Nainai’s silvery hair, which quivered in the breeze and glistened in the sunlight. She had never seen hair quite so beautiful. And as Nainai looked back at her, the little girl felt the soft caress of her eyes upon her cheeks and seemed to hear her trembling voice telling her not to be afraid. Nainai’s eyes were quietly drawing her closer. Then Nainai turned and walked away. She needed to find her son, daughter-in-law and grandson. She had something to say to them.

  By midday no one had come forward. The head of the village was getting worried. He walked through the crowd. “Such a good little girl!” he said to the onlookers.

  But his words had the opposite effect to the one he intended. For everyone had fallen in love with this little girl! They were so charmed by her that they daren’t take her in, afraid that they’d never be able to bring her up as well as they should. Some families who would have been happy to take in a little girl took one look at Sunflower and withdrew to the back of the crowd.

  “She’s too good for us,” they sighed. Damaidi was a poor place, and the villagers had little to spare.

  The aunties who had brought Sunflower to Damaidi were desperate for someone to step forward. By the time the sun was directly above their heads, as high as it could go, some of them turned their heads to hide their tears.

  “Let’s go,” they said. “We can take it in turns to look after her. We’ll not leave her here if she’s not wanted.”

  Sunflower’s head hung even lower.

  The head of the village looked at Bronze’s family. He walked over to them and said, “You’re good people, and it would be ideal if you could take this child, but…”

  He didn’t finish his sentence, didn’t say “you’re too poor”, just shook his head and walked away. As he passed Bronze, he reached out and, with sadness, stroked the boy’s head with his large hand.

  Bronze’s father, who had been squatting on the ground all this time, stood up and said, “Let’s go home.”

  The rest of the family said nothing. Nainai, remembering what the head of the village had said, did not glance back at Sunflower. They wanted to leave as quickly as possible. All except Bronze, who didn’t move. His father had to drag him away.

  The buffalo, which had been grazing near by, let out a long cry.

  Everyone stopped, and turned to see where the noise was coming from. The sight of Bronze’s family leaving was one that the villagers would never forget. There, under the midday sun, was Nainai, tottering at the front, followed by Bronze’s mother, then Bronze’s father pulling Bronze, who clearly didn’t want to go, and the buffalo, who didn’t want to go either and kept digging its heels into the ground and pulling back.

  As Sunflower watched Bronze’s family head off into the distance, a tear ran down the side of her nose.

  Then, as the crowd started to disperse, Gayu’s family turned up.

  Gayu and his father had been out all morning with the ducks. They came and stood close to the stone slab. Every so often Gayu glanced at his parents. He could see in their eyes and from their faces that they liked Sunflower, that they might consider taking her. He grinned at her.

  Gayu’s father looked up at the sun and said a few words in his son’s ear. Gayu ran off, and soon came back with a hard-boiled duck egg in each hand.

  His mother motioned to him to place them in Sunflower’s hands, but Gayu felt too awkward. He put them in his mother’s hands instead.

  His mother went up to Sunflower, leant forward and said, “Little girl, it’s the middle of the day. You must be hungry. Have these two duck eggs.”

  Sunflower refused. She put her hands behind her back and shook her head.

  Gayu’s mother tucked the eggs inside the pockets of Sunflower’s jacket.

  After that, Gayu’s family stood by the old tree. Occasionally a few people wandered past, and Gayu’s parents would mumble a few words. They continued to watch Sunflower and slowly, imperceptibly, they moved closer and closer to her.

  The aunties who had been standing next to Sunflower eventually sat down on the stone slab. They could wait a bit longer.

  When Bronze’s family arrived home, no one said a word. His mother brought the food to the table, but no one came to eat. She sighed and walked away.

  In the meantime Bronze had vanished.

  His mother went out to look for him. “Have you seen Bronze?” she asked a child on the road.

  The child pointed to the river, east of their home. “That’s him, over there.”

  She turned to look and saw Bronze sitting on a cement pile in the middle of the river.

  A few years ago there had been plans to build a bridge here. The cement pile had been made, but the funds had run dry and the plans had been scrapped. The cement pile remained in the river, all on its own. Weary waterbirds sought refuge on it, which explained why it was covered in white bird droppings.

  Bronze had taken a little boat to the cement pile, then climbed up. He deliberately didn’t tether the boat, and by the time he had reached the top of the pile it had drifted off. He sat on the top like a big bird, looking over the water.

  When his mother saw him, she went to fetch his father. He took the little boat, which had floated back to the bank, and punted it over to the cement pile.

  He looked up at Bronze. “Get down!” he shouted.

  Bronze didn’t even glance at his father. He sat completely still, perched precariously on top of the cement pile, his expression frozen, staring out over the river. Although Bronze didn’t move, his shadow rippled on the water, stretching and shrinking like an illusion.

  A crowd soon gathered. It was lunchtime and many had brought their bowls of rice with them. They were used to Bronze creating scenes, but this was completely out of the ordinary, even for him.

  His father was furious. He threatened his son with the bamboo pole. “If you don’t come down right now, I’ll thrash you.”

  Bronze ignored him.

  “Bronze, come down!” his mother shouted.

  When Bronze’s father realized that shouting wasn’t going to work, he lost patience. He thrust the pole towards his son’s bottom and tried to knock him into the water. But Bronze was ready. He wrapped his arms and legs around the cement pile and clung on so tightly he could have been growing on it.

  “It’ll take more than that to knock him off,” someone shouted from the bank.

  “Then you can stay up there!”

  There was nothing his father could do, so, in a rage, he punted back to the bank, climbed ashore and led the buffalo off to plough the fields.

  The crowd had seen enough and began to drift away.

  His mother had had enough too. “If you’ve got any sense, you’ll stay up there and never come down!” she declared. And she went home.

  Bronze felt everything go calm. He sat with his legs dangling, his chin cradled in his hand and the river breeze ruffling his hair and his clothes.

  Back home, his mother was tidying the house and worrying about her son. She tidied here and tidied there and then stopped, suddenly conscious that she was behaving a little strangely. Why
was she making up a small bed? Why had she taken the mosquito net down from Bronze’s bed and put it to soak in a washbasin? Why was she taking clean bedding out of the cupboard? Why was she plumping up a pillow? She sat on the edge of the little bed that she had just made up.

  Out on the road, Bronze’s father was getting annoyed with the buffalo. It was usually very compliant, but today it was being awkward. It kept stopping to relieve itself. It dragged its feet. When finally it did move, it kept stopping to eat other people’s crops.

  Eventually they arrived at the field, but when Bronze’s father put the yoke over its neck, it jerked its head and threw it to the ground. When he raised the whip in the air, the buffalo raised its head, looked him in the eye, roared and then snorted. And when he managed to fasten the yoke, the buffalo charged ahead before he could grab the plough. When he finally caught it, Bronze’s father was livid and thrashed the whip on the buffalo’s head. It didn’t recoil, didn’t make a sound, just lowered its head. Bronze’s father almost never used the whip. He saw the buffalo’s eyes moist with tears and immediately regretted what he had done.

  “You can’t blame me,” he said to the buffalo, “you wouldn’t do as you were told.”

  He didn’t ask any more of the buffalo, but removed the yoke and wrapped its rope around its horns, as if to say, “You can lead the way.”

  But the buffalo just stood there.

  Bronze’s father sat down on the ridge between the fields and anxiously smoked a cigarette.

  Nainai was standing by the wicker fence in front of the house, leaning on her stick, looking towards the old tree.

  Bronze’s mother went back to the riverbank.

  Nainai went too. She looked at her grandson without saying a word. She understood him better than anyone else. She looked after him while his parents were out in the fields. He’d slept in her bed until he was five. On wintery nights they had kept each other warm. She took him everywhere she went. The villagers would see them, chattering away endlessly. Bronze talked with his eyes and with his hands, and she understood everything, no matter how complicated or subtle. Nainai was the only person who could fully enter his special world, and she loved being with him.

  Nainai looked up at Bronze. “What’s the point of sitting up there? If you’ve something to say, go and say it to your father – he’s the head of the family. If you don’t, someone else will take her in. I can see your father likes her,” Nainai continued, “but he thinks we can’t afford it. Now, if you were to stop playing around and start earning a bit of money, then you could change that. Come on, get down.” Nainai shuffled to the water’s edge, picked up the bamboo pole and gently pushed the boat towards the cement pile. Bronze slid down to the boat.

  Bronze’s father came home early.

  “Back so soon?” said Bronze’s mother.

  He didn’t respond.

  Bronze went up to his father, and using his eyes and hands in a way that only his family could understand, talked excitedly.

  “She’s a good little girl, such a wonderful little girl… I want her to come and live with us… From now on, I’ll work hard, really hard… I don’t need new clothes at New Year… And I promise to stop complaining that there’s not enough meat… I really want her to be my sister…”

  Tears were welling up in his eyes. And in his mother’s eyes. And in Nainai’s eyes, too.

  His father crouched on the ground, his head in his arms.

  “We might be poor,” said Nainai, “but we’re not so poor that we can’t feed that little girl. If we all ate a little less, we could manage it. I’ve always wanted a granddaughter!”

  Bronze took Nainai’s hand and they headed off to the old tree.

  His father took a deep breath.

  Bronze’s mother went after them, and his father soon joined them.

  Up at the front, leading the way, was the buffalo.

  When the villagers asked where they were going, they didn’t answer, just headed straight for the old tree.

  The sun was moving towards the west. Most of the crowd had gone, but the aunties from the Cadre School were still sitting with Sunflower on the stone slab under the old tree.

  Gayu’s family had moved closer. His mother was now sitting on the stone slab with her hand on Sunflower’s shoulder, facing her as though she was talking to her. It seemed as though it would all be settled soon. The head of the village looked both pleased and anxious.

  Gayu’s father was crouching down, drawing something with a stick in the earth. He was trying to work out how many more eggs the ducks would have to lay in a year if they were to take in the girl. He’d been at it for ages and still hadn’t come up with an answer.

  Gayu and his mother were getting impatient. So was the head of the village, and the remaining villagers. Every now and then Gayu’s father would stop and look up at Sunflower. Then he’d smile and return to his calculation.

  Then Bronze’s family arrived.

  “You’re back!” the head of the village said, surprised.

  “Has the little girl been taken?” Bronze’s father asked.

  “We’re still waiting for the final decision,” said the head of the village. The aunties sitting beside Sunflower nodded in agreement.

  “Good!” said Bronze’s father with a sigh of relief.

  When Gayu’s father heard this he didn’t even look up. He couldn’t believe that Bronze’s family were thinking of taking Sunflower in. How on earth would they manage?

  But Gayu glanced at Bronze and could feel some kind of shift taking place. He nudged his father with his foot.

  Gayu’s mother could feel the tension rising. “Hurry up and make a decision,” she snapped at her husband.

  “We’d like to take this little girl!” announced Bronze’s father.

  At last, Gayu’s father looked up. “You want to take her in?”

  “Yes, we do,” said Bronze’s father.

  “Yes, we do,” said Bronze’s mother.

  “Yes, we do,” said Nainai, banging her stick on the ground.

  The buffalo threw back its head and roared so loudly that it echoed in their bellies and shook leaves from the trees.

  Gayu’s father stood up. “You want to take her in?” he snorted with disdain. “Well, you’re too late. We’re taking her.”

  “The head of the village said he was waiting for a final decision. We’re not too late. We said we wanted her before you did.”

  “She’s not going anywhere,” said Gayu’s father. “You can’t afford to take her in!”

  When Nainai heard this, she stepped forward. “You’re right, we’re poor. But we’d sell everything we owned in order to raise this child.”

  Everyone in the village respected Nainai. The head of the village could see that she was agitated, and quickly slipped his arm through hers. “It’s not good to get worked up at your age. Come on, let’s discuss this.” He pointed his finger at Gayu’s father. “Haven’t you finished your sums yet?”

  But Gayu’s father had made up his mind. The two families started arguing and shouting. People heard the noise and came to see what was happening.

  The head of the village didn’t know what to do.

  “Why not let the child decide for herself?” someone suggested.

  The crowd thought this was an excellent idea.

  “Would you be happy to let Sunflower decide?” the head of the village asked Gayu’s father.

  “Yes!” Gayu’s father felt it would give him an advantage. He pointed to the only tiled, brick house in the western part of the village. “That’s our house, over there,” he told her.

  “Would you be happy to let Sunflower decide?” the head of the village asked Bronze’s family.

  “We won’t let this child down,” said Nainai.

  “Good,” said the head of the village. Then he went over to Sunflower.

  “Little girl, the people of Damaidi are very fond of you. They want you to have a good life, but they are concerned about doing wha
t’s right for you. They don’t want to let you down. Everyone here is a good person, and both of these families would be kind to you. We’d like you to choose.”

  Bronze stood, clutching the buffalo’s rope, staring at Sunflower. Sunflower looked at Bronze and stood up. There was silence. All eyes were on Sunflower, waiting to see which way she would turn: east to Bronze’s family, or west to Gayu’s. She picked up her bundle. The aunties began to sob.

  Sunflower looked at Bronze, then began to walk to the west. The crowd watched her. Bronze hung his head. Gayu grinned from ear to ear. Sunflower walked over to Gayu’s mother. She looked at her gratefully, put her hands in her pockets, took out the two duck eggs and placed them in the woman’s pockets. Then she took a few steps back, still looking at Gayu’s family, before turning around and walking away.

  Everyone watched intently. Everyone except Bronze. Nainai touched her stick against his head. Bronze looked up and saw Sunflower slowly heading towards them. Nainai flung open her arms to welcome the little girl as her granddaughter, her own flesh and blood.

  Soon afterwards, the villagers watched quietly as the little group made its way through the village, Bronze at the front leading the buffalo with Sunflower on its back, followed by Nainai holding Sunflower’s bundle, then his mother, and finally his father. The buffalo’s hoofs clattered on the grey bricks, crisply tapping out the good news.

  Plaited Reed Shoes

  To the villagers’ surprise, the little girl blended effortlessly into her new family. The moment Sunflower stepped over the threshold, she became Nainai’s granddaughter, Baba and Mama’s daughter, Bronze’s little sister.

  She would follow Bronze wherever he went, just as Bronze had once followed Nainai. In no time at all, she could talk to him about anything, whatever was on her mind. They began to share things as easily as water flows on flat ground.

  The villagers often saw them together in the bright sunshine out on the ridges between the fields, looking for wild plants, mostly walking but sometimes sitting for a while or lying back in the grass. Bronze would come home with a big string bag full of plants on his back, Sunflower with a basket on her arm, also brimming with plants.