A Boy Named Rindy, page 7
“Rindy,” Chidaun called again, and I started running after them.
I caught up at the temple’s entrance, cut from the wall. Together, we stepped into a courtyard filled with trees and pagodas of various sizes. At the center was the most impressive building I had ever seen. Its cream-colored walls were trimmed in green, red and gold, surrounded by a low blue wall. It stood in layers with a triangle piece at the top, which seemed too heavy for the rest of the structure. Pillars surrounded it and glinted in the sunlight and looked as if they had been splashed with melting gold. Leering creatures attached to the tops of the pillars kept watch around its perimeter. Two lions guarded the front steps, their manes curled in gold and their mouths laughing in red.
“That’s the great Samrong Knong temple,” Chidaun exclaimed, her voice leaking out between her scanty teeth.
My hands trembled, but I tried to stop them, so my fear didn’t show. Men wearing mustard yellow, blood red and orange robes walked about, their shadows trailing them in submission. They had shaved heads and serious faces. I wondered if they had forgotten how to smile. Not wanting to anger them, I didn’t stare long. My eyes searched everything around me, trying to take it in. Several other buildings were scattered around the temple, smaller, less extravagant versions of the big building. I wondered where I could relieve myself.
A man wearing a yellow robe strode toward us, his face showing no emotion and his shoulders perfectly erect. Chidaun’s rickety bones creaked with excitement as the monk approached us. She waved a hand, and her wrinkled face tightened into a smile. She pushed her opened hands together at her chest and bowed her head low, making her shrunken frame shrink even further. The monk’s face didn’t change. With a flick of his long, slender fingers he indicated for us to follow him.
“That’s your Pou Ponlok—your mothers’ brother,” Chidaun whispered, pushing us up behind him. I walked on his shadow, trying not to step on the edge of his dirt-hemmed robe. He led us up a small set of steps at the side of the temple and onto the main floor. The stone was oddly cool on my feet. Opening a small, red door, splashed in golden curls and figures, Pou Ponlok led us into the temple.
As my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I could make out gold shimmering ahead of us, peeking through layers of darkness. As we approached, I realized it was a life-size version of the golden man Chidaun kept in her shrine. He was sitting cross-legged atop a golden box. Smaller images sat around his base, with the same strange, pointed hat and huge sagging ears. Their eyes were black circles and their lips, which seemed too large for their faces, were bright red.
Upon approaching the figurines, Pou Ponlok knelt to the ground and began to bow in low and exaggerated movements. His hands were clasped to his forehead and the heels of his bare feet poked out of his robe, behind him. Chidaun grabbed me by the arm and pulled me down with her, indicating for Kiry and Vuthy to do the same.
“Araham samma-sambuddho bhagava Buddham bhagavantam abhivademi,” Pou Ponlok murmured, his voice rising and falling eerily. My mind replayed his words, only understanding bits and pieces: “The noble one, the fully enlightened one, the exalted one, I bow low before the exalted Buddha.”
The words were mournful and sad, full of shadows and snuffed out candles. They filled my head, crowding out the sound of the birds singing in the fruit trees outside. Looking up briefly, I stole a glance at the golden man’s face, before dropping my eyes quickly to the stone. Even with my eyes closed, those gaping eyes stared at me through the blackness of my eyelids. I glanced at the walls to the right and left, but everywhere I looked, the man was there, staring back. His lips were curved, not in a friendly smile or even a scowl, but in something else entirely. It was like he was laughing at me in a deep, rumbling way, like faraway thunder ever coming closer. It didn’t make me want to laugh too, but to shrink in terror. Vuthy looked at me, his eyes wide and black, his cheek nearly touching the cold, stone floor. I grabbed his hand and squeezed.
At last, Pou Ponlok’s voice ceased, and he pushed himself to his feet. I reveled in the silence for a moment, but I could still hear his chant, whispering to me from the shadows. Pou Ponlok led us to the door and pulled it open, letting a flood of sunlight in. I lunged for it to escape the temple, but Chidaun grabbed my arm tightly, pulling me back in line with Vuthy and Kiry. Kiry looked indignant, his brow furrowed and his eyes piercing, but Vuthy looked almost too petrified to move.
“He’s a good boy, and I’m sure he will serve you well.” Chidaun smiled at Pou Ponlok while gripping my arm. We followed him down the stone steps.
“We discipline all the temple boys for any sign of disrespect,” Pou warned, his voice dry and emotionless. His feet appeared to be floating on air as he descended the steps. He didn’t turn his head to look at me, but I could feel his eyes.
“I’m sure you do an excellent job at guiding the unruly youth.” Chidaun glared at me. She looked each of us over with glimmering eyes.“You will learn to be good, Buddhist Cambodians here. Make your family proud.”
Kiry wore the same expression of indignation, but Vuthy’s eyes welled with tears. She turned back to Pou Ponlok.
“Joom reab lea.” She bowed her goodbye. We watched in silent dread as she hurried across the courtyard, her errand completed. My throat twisted into a knot as I watched her leave. The shadow of the temple spilled out over the ground, as if to eat us where we stood. I could feel Pou Ponlok standing behind me, his eyes boring into the back of my skull.
“You each have an assigned age group,” Pou Ponlok began, as two other monks appeared at each elbow.
“How old are you?” Pou asked, standing in front of Kiry.
“Ten,” he answered before Pou got the question fully out, standing as tall as he could.
He took a step forward to stand in front of me. He glowered down from his enormous height, expecting me to answer, but not asking a question.
“Six.” My voice squeaked.
“You?” he asked loudly, peering at Vuthy who was hiding behind me. He hid further.
“He’s four,” I answered, finding my voice quickly.
“I want to stay with Rindy,” Vuthy pleaded. I put my arm around him.
“That’s not possible.” Pou Ponlok yanked me away from him. “You must go with the other boys who are your age. It’s the rule.”
“It’ll be all right,” I whispered into Vuthy’s ear, but I couldn’t swallow the tremor in my own voice. Vuthy cried harder, but one of the monks grabbed him and led him toward one of the smaller buildings. The other led Kiry. Each monk cast a long shadow and pulled along their trailing robe.
“Come.” Pou Ponlok flicked his long fingers.
“Um, I need to use the—bathroom,” I stuttered. But he made no indication of hearing me, so I held my tongue.
I followed him toward one of the larger, rectangular buildings, propped up by peeling pillars. Unlike the temple, this building sat level with the ground, its exterior cracked in a smeared hue of yellowed paint, with faded and chipped blue doors. Creaking one of the doors open, Pou Ponlok led the way inside. A wave of self-consciousness enveloped me as I came face to face with a few dozen boys, lined in rows, staring with unblinking eyes and sullen expressions. Their unflinching faces frightened me, and I hid behind Pou a little. He grabbed my arm and jerked me into the line, pulling me so hard that my leg smashed into the knee-high tables stretched across the brick floor. Every eye turned to me. Heat rose to my face from somewhere near my belly button. I studied my toes, my eyes locked on their dirt-rimmed nails.
An orange-cloaked monk entered and began another droning prayer. The room erupted in a chorus of murmurs, as they recited words I didn’t fully understand. The sound throbbed in the air. I closed my eyes and envisioned a swarm of bees swelling in the sky as they buzzed near then retreated, always humming relentlessly. The boy standing to my right, nudged me to start chanting. I didn’t know the words, but I pretended I did. My mouth moved, without any sound escaping. The few words I knew tasted bad and stung my tongue. I spit them out into the air, mixing with the smell of rotten breath exhaling all around me.
As suddenly as it began, the hum ceased. In a sullen line, we inched toward the door, shuffling our bare feet. We walked in silence toward another rectangular building, similar in appearance, but with peeling, blue shutters closed against the setting sun. The room was filled with thin mats, scattered all over the cool floor. The door shut behind us, concealing the last of the dying sun.
Sitting down, I glanced at the boy who had nudged me earlier, but he appeared to be already asleep. This type of darkness felt different than the darkness of the jungle. It wasn’t a friendly darkness. It was cold and damp and made no sound or movement. Somehow, a tiger felt less scary than this place. I tried to sleep, but the darkness crept up around me as if to smother me. I rustled on my mat, to make it retreat. It seemed to feast on quietness and fear. I closed my eyes to escape it, but it was just as black. I needed to urinate so badly, my eyes watered. I stood up groping through the darkness for the door, walking in the direction I assumed it was.
“Ouch,” a voice yelled as I felt an arm beneath my foot.
“Somtos,” I apologized. “I’m trying to find the door…I…I need to go pee.”
He rustled to his feet before he grabbed my arm and thrust me to the corner of the room. Stumbling, I collided into something that splashed onto my feet. It was warm, and the stench was strong. I grimaced and added to the overflowing pail, trying to hold my breath. I crept back, shaking the liquid off my foot while avoiding stepping on anyone else.
“I’m sorry you’re a temple boy,” whispered a voice next to me, coming from the boy I thought was already asleep.
“Shhh,” a chorus of boyish voices sounded.
I wanted to tell him I wasn’t a temple boy, but I said nothing.
I was Rindy from the jungle, and this place was not my home.
13
Temple Boy
“People in America have a wrong idea about Buddhism.” — Rindy
The next day
Jerking awake, I looked into the eyes of the boy who lay next to me, blinking curiosity written across his features. He looked away when we made eye contact and pretended he hadn’t been staring, but I knew better.
“Where is my little brother, Vuthy, kept?”
“How old is he?”
“Four.” I swallowed.
“He’s kept in the next building. They don’t want siblings to be together.”
I had to find him somehow—check on how he was.
“Maybe you can see him at school.”
“They let us go to school?”
“Yeah, they have to, or else parents wouldn’t want to send us here. The monks don’t teach mathematics and stuff.”
“What’s going to happen today? Will we go to school?”
“School starts in a few days.” He picked at a scab on his arm. “Hopefully, we eat.”
Hunger rattled in my stomach.
“Then we clean the temple, run errands for the monks, prostrate and say chants.”
“Do you have a jungle close by?”
“No, no.” The boy looked nervous. “You just do the things they tell you, got it? You can’t go exploring.”
I nodded but didn’t understand.
“Hey, do you come from a family with money?”
I shrugged.
“You just do everything they tell you.”
“Up.” An orange robed monk called inside the stuffy room. Then he walked away. The sleepy little room erupted at the single word into a frenzy of bare arms, disheveled hair and the stench of morning breath.
“My name’s Sov.”
“Rindy.”
I followed the crowd toward the temple and the golden man. With a sinking stomach, I realized I would have to face him every day. Like the other boys, I bowed down on the cold floor. With our thumbs bent in and our fingertips touching, we prostrated and chanted the melodic prayer. I understood little of what I was saying, but I followed along the best I could. I stared at the long crack in the floor, only daring to look at the enormous face once before my eyes darted back down.
“Do you like him?” I asked a boy next to me as we rose to our feet to file outside again. He looked startled, and shook his head, putting his fingers to his lips. I swallowed my other questions. As we descended the stairs, a single, silent row of monks stared back at us from the bottom. Each one wore a large pot attached with a strap to make the pot easier to tote. I laughed into my hands because they looked like a row of pregnant women with their pots held tightly at their cloaked stomachs. An older boy caught my eye and shook his head hard, his eyes sharp and stern.
I stopped smiling but too late.
“You,” a voice called. “Come.” I looked through the crowd and saw Pou Ponlok staring at me, with eyes like fire.
I wove my way through the silent boys on the stairs, the laughter dissolving in my throat. As the others stepped aside, I read fear on their faces. My bare feet landed in the dirt, and I stood before Pou Ponlok.
“Your brother ran away last night.”
It must be Kiry. Vuthy was too young to figure out a way to escape.
“Since he disdained tradition and authority, you will take his punishment.”
My pulse quickened and I licked my lips, unsure what that meant.
“Aon Choh— bow down,” he barked into my face, his body rigid. “Aon Choh!” Redness crept up his skinny neck.
Cupping my hands, I touched my palms to my forehead, over my mouth and to my chest in a respectful bow. Another monk handed Pou Ponlok a long, black whip. I had seen farmers use these on oxen and water buffalo.
My eyes found their way to the dirt, my heart thudding, and my mind fuzzy with confusion.
“Aon Choh,” he yelled, his body riveting in agitation. I got on my knees and lowered my nose to the ground, my buttocks in the air, trying another prostration I had seen performed. I felt a sharp sting on my back, and my head spun in disbelief and pain, but the dreaded command sounded again.
“Aon Choh!”
I gathered my thoughts to try again, hoping the first blow was just a cruel joke and the onlookers were on the verge of bursting into laughter. Glancing up into the horizon of faces, I saw them all staring back at me, but there was no laughter in their eyes. I quickly reverted to a different position to try again. Putting my legs out straight and my toes curled inward. I lowered my head to the dirt with my hands overhead as I had seen a monk in Chidaun’s village bow.
The whip licked at my side, slicing through my flesh. It hurt worse than the first. My face smashed into the dirt as I sputtered in tears and confusion.
“Aon Choh!”
I got back on my knees to try a new position, a different way to bow. I looked to the other boys for a hint, any clue how to take part in the monk’s mind game, but their faces only read sympathy. I prostrated myself again, my arms starting above my head and lowering to my nose, before dropping all the way to the dirt. In the shadow on the ground, I saw Pou’s arm rise into the air.
Another lash struck right between my shoulder blades. Unable to resist, I glanced into Pou’s face questioningly, my eyes straining into the glaring sun.
“Aon Choh,” he thundered again, answering my pleading glance with another blow. I prostrated in quick repetitions, hoping it was speed he wanted.
I felt another strike hitting my lower back.
“AON! AON! AON!” The commands continued, and so did the lashings. Tears veiled my eyes, and I quivered beneath the whip. The sunshine searched my open flesh, and the boys eyes burned holes into my bleeding back. The whipping continued.
In desperation, I collapsed, sobbing. My face planted into the salty puddle I had made in the dirt. My bladder released, soaking my brown shorts. The pain in my back throbbed, but the confusion was worse. No matter what position of prostration I tried, they all were fruitless.
Pou Ponlok administered one last blow. Then he was done. I winced in relief as I lay with my hand on my arm, to muffle my crying.
“Get up.”
I pushed myself from the ground and to my knees, head lowered, my body trembling from pent up sobs. I didn’t want to look at him or anyone else.
“If you attempt to escape, your little brother will get double what you just did.”
The words slammed like a slap against my ears. Vuthy was still here, and I couldn’t let this happen to him. No matter how bad life got.
“Fall into lines.”
My knees were weak and my back felt as if a million blades of grass had serrated my skin. How much blood was there? Without hesitation, he walked between the row of the colored robes to my left and the bare feet to my right. Hot adrenaline pounded through my veins, and I staggered after him. I willed myself forward, hoping he wouldn’t turn around to administer another blow. Chanting, he paraded out of the temple courtyard and onto the street. I didn’t even try to understand his words because my head swarmed with confusion.
The street was alive with people as the monks walked with their pots in a parade of color. Chanting filled the air, enveloping all other sounds in a rhythmic drone. The usual bustle of the village subsided as the street cleared a path for the monks and their boys, lining up with their gifts on either side. A row of women squatted, holding bags and pots of food to their wrinkled foreheads. As we walked past, they dropped their offerings into the pots, bowing their heads in respect, keeping their eyes on the ground.
We paraded through the street and Pou Ponlok's pot was filled to the brim with food offerings. The villagers began handing me their offerings to carry. The pain in my back gave way to disbelief. The spell of the monks held the whole village captive. I witnessed the great extent of their power and how incapable I was in its destructive wake. Fear, like a python, tightened around my neck.
The smell of freshly baked bread rose to my nose, agitating my hungry stomach. Nausea from the beating had temporarily chased the hunger away, but smelling the bread brought it back with a vengeance. My arms were bursting with food and my back hurt as salty sweat slithered into my open wounds. Stumbling, I wondered if we would ever return to the temple courtyard.
