Echoes of the White Giraffe by Sook Nyul Choi

Author:Sook Nyul Choi [Choi, Sook Nyul]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

Chapter Seven

A rickety old bus waited outside the church to take the choir members on a picnic as a group of women fluttered about loading the bus with baskets of food and drink. To thank us for our singing, the women from the church had rented the bus and packed all our favorite picnic foods. Exhausted, but excited for us, they waved goodbye. Knowing how much trouble they had gone to, I felt as if I were sitting in the most beautiful chariot laden with the most exquisite delicacies.

The boys sat on the right side of the bus and the girls on the left. As expected, Haerin, who was sitting at the very front, turned and knelt on her seat, pulled her baton from her bag, and like a magician with a wand, waved her baton to make the music begin. We started somewhat reluctantly, but soon we all broke into song.

Moving my mouth perfunctorily, I stared out the small, dusty window. Cows grazed lazily, a few lifting their heads to look at the speeding bus. The modest country farmhouses, trees, and animals all formed part of the moving picture I watched through the window. I looked over at Junho and saw that he, too, was gazing out the window deep in reverie.

When the bus finally came to a stop, we stepped out onto a large, open field of wildflowers. Giant dragonflies, with their transparent wings, flew in front of us in pairs. Tiger butterflies flew high and low, boasting bold black and yellow patterns emblazoned on their wings. We walked through the fields toward a clearing, lined with rows of clean army barracks, identical in every way. Off to the side, at the end of a wide concrete-paved walk, was an imposing, red-brick building that had been the army headquarters. Flanking the entrance to this building were two tall poplar trees, standing at attention. Everything exuded a sense of orderliness. Handsome soldiers, in their well-pressed uniforms and spit-shined shoes, marched by, saluting when they passed each other, or when their officers sped by in Jeeps. The birds, however, seemed oblivious and chirped noisily as they flew past the army headquarters toward the field of wildflowers. I could see why the church ladies had chosen this as the site for our picnic. The disciplined perfection of the army base against the colorful abandon of the fields created a strangely comforting and beautiful atmosphere.

Led by Father Lee, we strolled around the grounds. Junho took off his jacket, slung it over his shoulder, and lagged behind, humming. Observing every move her oppa made, Haerin, too, slowed down to keep him company. I heard Junho say, “Haerin, maybe this is a good time for Sookan and me to practice our duets.”

Pulling my sleeve, Haerin said, “Sookan, walk with us. Let’s sing.”

Haerin was single-minded when it came to her choir, and Junho had cleverly seized the opportunity to get us together. I saw a broad smile spread across his face as I joined them.

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