Red Sorghum

thought out of her mind. Any minute now, she thought, to keep her spirits up, any minute now. It’s getting dark outside, and even the swallows have gone home to roost, which means that Mom and Dad will be here soon.
    The light on the walls turned dark yellow, then deep red. A cricket hidden in one of the cracks began to chirp; mosquitoes warmed up their engines and took off into the air. Just then Mother heard the sound of a mortar barrage from somewhere near the village wall, and what sounded like human and animal screams from the northern end of the village. This was followed by blasts from a machine gun in the southern end. When the gunfire ended, sounds of shouting men and galloping horses swept into the village like a tidal wave. Utter chaos. Pounding of hooves and tramping boots around the opening of the well.
Gulugulu
– loud Japanese voices. Little Uncle began to whimper, but Mother clapped her hand over his mouth and held her breath. His face twisted violently under her hand, and she could feel the thumping of her own heart.
    As the sun’s rays died out, Mother looked up at the red sky. Fires crackled all around, sending hot ashes over the opening of the well; mixed with the sound of licking flames were the cries of children, the screams of women, and the bleating of goats, or maybe it was the tearful lowing of cows. Even from the bottom of the well, she could smell the stench of burning.
    She had no idea how long she’d shuddered over the fires raging above her, since she’d lost all sense of time, but she could tell from the tiny slice of darkening sky that the fires were dying out. At first she heard an occasional burst of gunfire and the sound of a roof collapsing. But after a while there was nothing but silence, plus a few dim stars that appeared in the circle of sky above.
    Mother fell asleep, and awoke chilled. By now her eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness, and when she looked up atthe pale-blue sky and the gentle rays of the morning sun reflected off the walls, she felt giddy. Her clothes were soggy from the dampness; the cold air touched her bones. She hugged her little brother tightly. Even though his fever seemed to have abated during the night, he was still much hotter than she. So Mother soaked up Little Uncle’s warmth, while he was cooled by her; during their time together at the bottom of the well, they achieved true life-sustaining symbiosis. Mother, who did not know that her parents were dead, expected to see their faces and to hear their familiar voices at any time; had she known, she might not have survived those days and nights in the well.
    When I look back upon my family’s history, I find that the lives of all the key members have at some point been linked inextricably with some sort of dark, dank cave or hole, beginning with Mother. Granddad later outdid all the others, setting a record among civilised people of his generation for living in a cave. Finally, Father would produce an epilogue that, in political terms, would be anything but glorious, but when viewed from the human angle must be considered splendid. When the time came, he would wave his sole remaining arm towards the red clouds of dawn and come running on the wind to Mother, Elder Brother, Elder Sister, and me.
    Mother was freezing on the outside but burning up inside. She hadn’t eaten or drunk anything since the previous morning. A searing thirst had tormented her since the night before, when the village was engulfed in flames; then, in the middle of the night, an overwhelming hunger reached its peak. As dawn was about to break, her guts seemed to twist into knots, until all she could feel was the gnawing pain in her belly. But now the mere thought of food nauseated her; it was the thirst she found unbearable. Her lungs felt dry and chapped, each breath producing the rustling sound of withered sorghum leaves.
    Once again Little Uncle said meekly through blistered lips, ‘Sis . . . I’m thirsty. . . .’ Mother didn’t have the heart to look into his small, wizened face, and there were no words to console him. The promises she’d made throughout the day and night had come to nothing. No sound, not even the bark of a dog, emerged from the village. That was when it occurred toher that her parents might be dead or might have been captured by the Japs. Her eyes stung, but she had no more tears to shed – the wretched state of her baby brother had forced her to grow up.
    Momentarily forgetting her