A boy name Cu

Dear my Dad's friends

My name is Thai Anh. My Dad is Duong. I am 14 years old and attend Form 4, Queen Margaret College in Hobson Street, Wellington. It's very interesting that my school is almost opposite the house numbered 44 which, my Dad says, he used to live in with many of his friends many years ago. Every time he takes me to school he always goes to the gate and looks for a long time into the house. He says the house looks the same as when he was there except that it is repainted and has more garden. I really enjoy listening to my Dad's stories about his student days with his friends in Wellington.

I wrote this story two years ago with my Dad's help. It was published in the School Journal and I was paid some money for it. My Mum borrowed it all and hasn't given it back!

I hope you enjoy my story.

A BOY NAMED CU

by Thai Anh Tran

In Saigon where I was born, I had a friend named Cu. His family was very poor. He was always untidy and dirty. The other kids round about him didn't want to play with him.

Our house was in a short alley. Cu lived next door, and we had been neighbours since he was a baby. His house was the poorest in the neighbourhood. It was tiny, with one room and no windows. Inside, there were no cupboards, no tables, and no chairs. There was one bed, made of a few planks of wood resting on bricks, for Cu and his mother and father. The house had an old tiled roof, and many of the tiles were broken and missing.

The floor of Cu's house was lower than the level of the street. When it rained, the water overflowed from the street and flooded his house. When the rain stopped, Cu and I would help his parents to bail the water out. Cu's father began work before dawn every morning, and often worked until midnight. He was a "cyclo" driver. People paid him to take them wherever they wanted to go in the city. Everyday, in sunshine or rain, he pedalled the passengers in his tricycle along the city streets.

Cu's mother got up very early each morning ,too. She went to the market at dawn and bought sugar cane which she cut up to sell. Then she walked along the streets calling out, "Sugar cane, who wants to buy my sweet sugar cane?". She carried the cane in two baskets which hung from a pole across one shoulder, one swinging in front of her, and the other behind.

Cu's parents worked hard but still they didn't have money to buy enough food and clothes. Often, I gave Cu some guavas or cake. He loved that. His eyes lit up. At home, all he ate was rice with fish sauce and boiled cabbage. Once I bought two ice creams, one for Cu and one for me. His hands were shaking when he took it. It was the first time he had had his own ice cream.

My school was at the entrance to the alley. Every morning, Cu watched me and the other children going off to school. He wanted to go, too. He was old enough, but his parents couldn't pay. He spent the day alone on the street until his mother came home. He often waited for me to play with him after school.

Some of the kids used to tease me when they saw me playing with him. They would call out, "Look at Thai Anh. She's playing with Cu." I took no notice. Cu wanted to learn to read and write. I was older than him and had already been at school for two years. I taught him the words I knew. When he learned how to write hid first word, he was so happy, he laughed. He straight away wanted to learn a second word. I was very proud of him.

Cu taught me things too - he taught me some of his games. I remember the way we played in his "swimming pool". In the rainy season, Cu's one-room house became just like a swimming pool. The water came up to my waist. We used to swim and play chasing in it, and splash water at each other. Sometimes we fought in the water. He couldn't swim very well. Whenever he tried, I used to laugh because he couldn't stay afloat. He would go under and swallow lots of water. But he got better. He used to swim without clothes. He didn't care, but I wore a T shirt and shorts.

Cu's parents were always fighting, and he used to get very frightened. They shouted at him, and hit him if he did something wrong. Once when Cu was hungry, I ran to my house to get some rice and egg for him. While he was eating that, his father came back. I was so scared I ran home. I peeped out; his father was shouting at him. Even the neighbours heard. I felt sorry for Cu, and wished I could do something to help. I kept thinking about him.

Then my parents decided to move to New Zealand. I was excited about moving to a new country, but sometimes I was sad, too. I didn't want to leave my grandmother and grandfather, my cousins and aunts and uncles. I didn't want to leave my school and my friends. And what would become of Cu? "Oh well," I used to say to myself, "who knows? One day he might even become a famous person." That was what my mum had said to me, anyway.

Then the time came for me to leave. I decided to talk to his father before I left. "Cu is a nice boy," I said to him. "he would like to go to school. Please don't hit him any more." I was glad to see him smile.

The day came when I had to leave Cu, and my home. I gave him some of my clothes, books, and toys just before we had to leave to get on the plane. I hoped he would be safe.

Sometimes I think of Cu. I miss him. I really liked him. I never told him that, but I really did.

(School Journal, Part 3 Number 2 1995, Learning Media, Wellington)