The Illiterate Daughter by Chia Gounza Vang

Author:Chia Gounza Vang
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: scarsdalepublishing
Published: 2021-11-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty

Toua led us courageously on the rugged path toward the valley. He planned to look for a stream or creek. If we could find one, there was a possibility we’d find other survivors. I was proud of my brother for taking on my father’s role. I wasn’t born as tough as him, but I’d watch him and learn. Father always said that learning came from observing and doing. I tried not to think of Father, alone and in the jungle. He would want me to stay strong so I could take care of my family.

In the valley, we found a creek. We rested and cooked rice with the fresh water. After we ate, we traveled along the creek in hopes of finding other scattered families.

As we walked, Toua whistled softly, “Anyone nearby? I’m Toua Vang.”

After several attempts, someone whistled in response. We hurried forward and my heart soared when we found Tong Pao and Uncle Nao Pao’s families unharmed. We were all relieved to see each other. The men gathered together and talked about what to do. The women listened.

Toua and Tong Pao, a tall, muscular man in his late forties, agreed to go farther down the creek to look for more families. While they were gone, the rest of us collected firewood and prepared dinner.

That evening, Wa Meng and Youa Cho Moua’s families joined our group. Wa Meng and Youa Cho, in their late fifties, were brothers. They told everyone that Ger Moua, their cousin, was the first to die during the shooting. The enemy killed Youa Cho’s wife and his youngest son. When the brothers fired their carbines at the enemy, the Communists had backed off quickly.

Wa Meng believed the Laotian men, who had disappeared, ran off to the nearby Communist village for safety. He didn’t think they collaborated with the Pathet Lao. Wa Meng suspected it was the Hmong hunter who told the Pathet Lao troop about the group.

“Do you truly believe it was the Hmong hunter?” I asked.

“Yes,” said Wa Meng. “Who else would have known? If Ger had killed him in the first place, this wouldn’t have happened.”

There was no proof, but the hunter was the only one who had seen the group. It could have been him. I wondered about Soldier Keng. Maybe he found our hut empty and chased us. Could it have been him? I wanted someone to blame and hate. I picked up a stick and jammed it hard in the dirt. If I could, I would kill them both.

Half the families were missing. I wanted to ask more questions, but proper women weren’t supposed to get involved in men’s meetings. I also wondered what happened to the Laotian smugglers. Had they really abandoned the group, or were they wounded?

On the third day after the shooting, the men gathered to sketch out the next plan while the women and children listened nervously. I sat behind Toua. Each adult man took a turn to voice his opinion.

“We have two choices.” Toua took the lead.

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