That night, he could not fall asleep.

He thought of the solitary confinement cell, of the disciplinary area that awaited him. It consisted of a row of small houses built apart from the rest of the camp. Hidden behind tall trees, the walls were made of bricks and the roofs of concrete, unlike the main camp with its walls made of tree trunks tied together and its leafy roofs...

He had already been in the solitary confinement cell, at P., for more than a year, while awaiting his sentence. But no solitary confinement cell could rival with the ones at V.Q. Those who came out of there no longer resembled human beings.

Vu Luong himself had spent seven days in the solitary confinement cell. The punishment included shackles and a strict diet of very diluted rice soup. Those were the days when they both belonged to the group responsible for entertaining the camp. They did not work hard. They
still did some field labor, but spent most of their time rehearsing the play "Nguoi Me Dich Hau", singing "Tieng chay tren soc Bom Bo". And they were hungry. Even comedians and singers were starving.

Their only remedy was hot pepper, the kind that grew straight up. As comedians, they rehearsed their play by the forest edge where hot peppers grew. Every single hot pepper that appeared was devoured, inspite of the usually nasty taste. Once, he discovered a rare ripe hot pepper well hidden by its leaves. Its spicy taste gave him a ferocious hunger for freedom.

A spectacular looting by the entertaining group shook the whole camp. A lot was taken but nothing was kept in the end. It happened spontaneously. It was a late afternoon. On their way back from the manioc fields, the prisoners, in a sudden concerted movement, rushed toward the forest, right under the nose of the very surprised re-educator and the guard. Mr Vui, the re-educator on duty, whose violin talents were quite acceptable, and who was usually very calm,
shouted:

- What are you doing?

The guard roared :

- Stop right there!
- So, what is it? A rebellion?

Nobody listened. The grey uniforms continued to head to the forest edge. Tuan followed his comrades.
Warning shots went off, deafening. No one cared. A forest full of red hot pepper was beckoning. Nowhere, not even in their wildest dream, would they have found a more appealing corner. A brook to cross. A meadow to run through. And there they were. At the edge of the forest. Each branch was loaded with red hot peppers squeezing against each other.

More warning shots. Nothing could hold the prisoners back. They rushed forwards as if gone insane. They picked. They tore away. Even the green ones, even the branches. Then a sharp shot went off. Someone yelled :

- He's dead!

- He's dead! But no one paid attention. Gibbon hands continued to stuff hats and pockets with hot peppers. They emptied water cans to fill them with hot peppers. The guard, even younger than Mr Thanh Van, arrived, looking pale and so angry that his whole body was shaking. A sharp fireshot stopped all picking activities. The guard spoke with a threatening voice :

- I'll shoot...Turn around at once or I'll shoot!

Mr Vui squeezing his pistol in one hand, stepped forward and gave them the look of hatred :

- Assemble now !

Only then, did he realize that A Thenh, one of the group members, had been shot and was lying on the grass, near the bushes at the far corner. The guard, aiming with his submachine gun, yelled :

- Assemble by the brook!

They carried their hot peppers along, and walked by A Thenh's curled up body. Tuan glanced quickly : A Thenh's mouth was opened, a golden tooth was shining amidst loose brownish teeth, the blue cotton shirt was torn open. Blood was still bubbling as it came out of the hole on his chest, soaking the whole shirt and forming a puddle. Ripe hot peppers, green hot peppers, even hot pepper leaves could be seen in A Thenh's motionless hands...

Tuan felt a vague chest pain and was the first one to empty all his water cans of their precious contents onto the ground. He could swear there was A Thenh's blood at his feet. At the brook, they were thoroughly searched by the guard and the reeducator. Not a single hot pepper escaped. Saddened, they went back to the camp. A Thenh remained where he had fallen down. Can stayed behind. Probably to help the guard fill out the report.

They were lucky. B-52 raids were fierce. Everyone were to stay in bomb shelters day and night. Otherwise they would have been put in solitary confinement cells. In any case, there were not enough solitary confinement cells for all fifty, sixty of them. However, they did see their food rations cut back, way back. Needless to say, they reached a new level of hunger.

They were hungry and they missed A Thenh, the good old NUNG (of the highland ethnic group) who made them laugh so many times. Luong was most affected. Because it was Luong that made fun of A Thenh most often. With time, they had discovered the one thing that A Thenh feared most : to be considered demented.

One day, on their way back from the fields, aching all over, starving, wet clothes in one hand and a water can in the other, physically and mentally exhausted, feeling fatigue even in their hair, they teased A Thenh to have some fun, A Thenh was in his sixties, had a handsome face, hollow cheeks, an elongated water tube under his arm. A Thenh had a special gait. His feet reached very far forward, while his head leaned backwards, typical of those more used to climbing hills than to walking on plains.

One of them sneaked up on A Thenh from behind and shouted :

-A Thenh has become demented !

A Thenh started, as if hit deep in his soul, then corrected quickly , with a calm voice:

-I am not demented.

A second chap came up to A Thenh :

- A Thenh, you are really demented, I'm telling you!

A Thenh's face hardened and he replied with a trembling voice :

- I am not demented!

A third chap stepped forward with a clearly disdainful tone :

- It's no use denying it. Admit your dementia!

A Thenh looked like a desperate defender of the Truth :

- I am not demented !

Luong , who was walking ahead of the group, made an intentional stop to wait for A Thenh. Luong , with a strong chin, hollow cheeks and a dishaven face, ordered everyone to leave Uncle Thenh alone. A Thenh's face softened. He looked at Luong with intense sympathy. Luong took A Thenh's hand, rested his head on A Thenh's shoulder and whispered :

- Uncle Thenh , I'm the only one who respects you, right?

A Thenh nodded happily, even though his lips were still trembling from anger. Then A Thenh noticed that all the others, including the grey haired and wrinkle faced Old Do, had their eyes wide opened in anticipation of an imminent laugh. A Thenh remained on his guard. Luong went on.

Z camp uniforms were too small for him. Man’s features were hardened and yet, delicate. Nobody saw him laugh or talk for weeks on end. No one knew if he felt any sorrow. But everyone was sure he felt hunger and cold. He ate everything he found. Even live crickets. On cold days, he tried to have some warmth. He put a blankets on his shoulders to go to the fields.

The re-educator allowed no such thing. But Man had no jacket. So he was given permission to carry his blanket provided he had it folded before crossing the camp gates. A head taller than everyone else, a well folded blanket under one arm, a pair of gigantic self -made wooden shoes under the other, Man was the most entertaining scene each time the group left for work. On the fields, his silhouette against the waving blanket was even funnier. Luong called him

«Otello». On the way back to camp, noticing the sad faces of the group, Luong walked up to Man :

- Otello. Your name is Otello, right?

Luong's head only reached Man's shoulders. Luong looked up, waiting. Man looked down. A glassy stare. A stony face. Luong grabbed the blanket full of fleas from Man's shoulders and wrapped it around himself :

- Where's Desdemona ? Desdemona is beautiful. Your wife is beautiful. Has she brought you any food recently?

Absolute silence. As if Man did not hear. As if Luong was not holding on tightly to Man's waist.

- Oh no, it's true. When you are hungry, you cannot talk about love. How can you talk about love with an empty stomach?

And Luong changed his voice :

-So, how many frogs did you catch today ?

Man walked on. Continued to be of stone. Continued to be silent. Calm. Serious. Not a single reaction. Luong shook his head, moved away from Man. :

- I give up.

Luong was the star of group. Because of his gluttony. Because of liveliness. Because Luong was consistently unlucky. All the food he managed to gather in secret, be it vegetables or manioc, was always discovered and seized.

Luong was also popular because of his talented voice and his role as lead singer of the group. During rehearsal, Luong directed. His voice resounded : - To the pretty girl who spent so many sleepless nights next to her gun...Can, with an eighteen year sentence, was the band leader.

Apparently, Can came home from abroad to visit. When he was about to leave Vietnam , he was arrested at the airport for illegal activities ( no one was quite sure what the activities consisted of), considered a spy and jailed. For nearly eighteen years, Can survived solely on the "rich diet" of the camp and , therefore, developped cataracts and lost seventeen teeth. Can told Luong many times :

- You must have been very popular with girls.

Luong's duty was to transport food from the kitchen to the different compounds, a task envied by all. Easy access to the kitchen, no escort ever, and lots of free time. Luong did nothing to hide his happiness and even promised Tuan :

-I will bring you some food ,one day.

Luong fought his way through brooks and hills, with dozens of meals on his shoulders, dilated neck veins looking like eels, and a shirt soaking wet from his own sweat. Luong was not bothered by hard work. Luong kept his smile and kept his promise. Luong brought him a bit of salt or a few hot peppers.

Cut into thin slices , salted and mixed with cooked bamboo shoots, these hot peppers made a delicious side dish.

In the early days, Luong was always hungry. One day, as Old Do declared himself full before finishing his meal ( Old Do was in fact depressed by the recent death of some inmates ) Luong yelled back :« That one is lucky!» Every time he saw someone eat, his eyes lit up. Luong had no self control when it came to food. Tuan understood Luong very well. All newcomers behaved exactly the same.

They had little to eat, and worked extremely hard. At meal times, he tried to remain calm but always ended up devouring like a hungry tiger. Shoving it all into his mouth. Chewing. Swallowing. He did not know what he was eating. When he realized he was eating rice and wanted to slow down to enjoy the sweet taste of rice mixed with corn, or the sticky quality of rice mixed with noodles, his spoon was already scraping the empty bowl.

By 6 PM, locked up, looking at far away hills through the window bars, he was already hungry. He was already waiting for breakfast. He wrote to his wife :« I miss you as much as I miss the manioc and the potatoes found on my way to work.» Every new inmate had to go through this phase of hunger that colored one's eyes yellow. The eyes really turned yellow. Sometimes, all one could see was a dim , yellowish light.

Luong was lucky. Luong did not have to endure the initial phase for very long. Most of them did not like Luong's healthy looks.«He is getting fat. We are starving.»« He stuffs himself alone in the forest»«That’s not true.» No one knew for sure.

One day , tenches were on the menu. Preceding rumors circulated for days. Rumors were most often true, in the camp. It was time to prepare the accompanying spices : hot pepper and aromatic herbs. No one could do without the herbs. They had missed the smell of fish for so long. And this time, they were getting fresh fishes. They had had fish in the past, but it was mainly a few skeletons floating in a foul smelling, dark red soup.

This time, there were fresh tenches. Full of hope , they counted the hours, then the minutes. As noon approached, all heads were turned toward the brook, where Luong was soon to appear, with his head bent down and his shoulder piece shaking and bouncing...

As Vu Luong finally arrived at the forest edge after crossing the brook, all eyes were on the buckets hanging from the shoulder piece. They screamed :

- Have you got them ?

Vu Luong shouted back :

- Yes!

Everyone knew what it was about. Vu Luong lifted a corner of his prisoner's shirt to dab the sweat running down his face, revealing a hairy and especially wet tummy inspite of the cold weather.

Can, who usually distributed the meals, reached the buckets first. Can was one of the camp comedians, and played the feminine roles with a striking resemblance. May-be because his skin was light colored ,but more importantly, his eyes had retained their liveliness, while most other inmates displayed a permanently glassy stare. Can's expressions still revealed joy, anger, sadness and happiness. Can shouted :

- Tenches !

They gathered around the buckets of rice and tenches. At that precise moment, as if informed by someone, the re-educator showed up :

- Stop the distribution ! Leave everything in the containers !

They could not believe their ears. The re-educator ordered Luong to bring all the tenches back to the kitchen. Without waiting for the fish, they started to eat the rice and the side dishes they had secretly prepared. A little later, the re-educator, visibly still angry, brought Luong back :

- Give them out, now!

This time, there were more tenches in the buckets. The kitchen people must have made a refill. Luong had eaten tenches on the way. No one knew how many. Luong was put in a solitary confinement cell. He still remembered the day Luong was released from the cell after a week of shackles and diluted rice soup.

On that day, the re-educator in chief was to speak to the whole camp. All inmates had the day off so they could attend the meeting. The re-educator spoke of strange things. Very different from the words and the treatment he had received up to then. All these years in the camp, he had got used to insults and slanders. They were criminals. Each of them, in a different way, had committed crimes against the People, the Revolution and the Party. They were the enemy. They were even more dangerous than the enemy.

The French and the Americans, who had pointed noses and blue eyes, who shot at civilians, were easy to recognize. While they, inmates of the camp, were more difficult to recognize and , therefore, more dangerous. They did not deserve to be treated as humans. To breathe the same air as the People. To be part of the Vietnamese People, a heroic people. The Vietnamese people were ashamed of them. However, the Party still believed in the little bit of humanity that remained in each of them.

The Party tried to keep that tiny bit alive. And they were treated accordingly. A buffalo, a pig could expect kind words and gentle pats from the re-educators. But they, the prisoners, dared not dream of such happiness. No word of encouragement, of understanding to hope for. They were worth little, much less than the vegetables.

As soon as a caterpillar appeared among the lettuces, he had to come running with the insecticide
tank to apply an urgent treatment. The camp nurse , on the other hand, found all kinds of reasons not to attend to a sick inmate.

When they spoke to a member of the camp personnel, they were to start with «Sir» or «Madam». When they met the female accountant who was carrying her newborn son on a walk, they had to say with respectful manners :

- Dear Sir and Madam, we wish you a nice walk.

But on that day, the chief re-educator spoke strangely. No insults, no slanders. He talked of the concept of «dong bao» which meant «of the same womb», which meant «compatriot». Of the same skin color. Of the same blood. They were all descendants of the Dragon. They were to forget the past. The past was gone. Only the future counted. They were to think of the future. Join forces to build Vietnam, a country handed down by the Hung emperors. To think of the past was criminal.

Those were strange words, very unusual. Words that were nice to hear. Words that aroused suspicion. Words that reminded them to curl up, to stay on their guard. The re-educator declared: « There is no need for you to call us «Sir». Call us «brother» or «sister». You will be ,from now on , in control of your destiny. We will even give you the keys, why not ?». From now on, there would be many dishes at each meal. It was strange. Too strange to be believable. No one believed. Everyone remained quiet. Followed each word, each expression, each gesture. Like children watching a circus. Following with their eyes the juggler, the tamer, the magician. Tuan remembered a recent article read by Pho to the whole camp : cease all hatred, revive love. Love your countrymen. Forget the notion of classes. Very different from previous articles...

At that instant, the rythmic shouting of the solitary confinement cells inmates became audible.

- We want to listen to the re-educator in chief!

It was Luong's idea. Chac, who brought the rice soup to the solitary confinement cells, told Luong about the general meeting. The re-educator in chief visited only once a year. Luong urged the inmates in the other solitary confinement cells to yell together and loudly, for the cells were quite a distance from the meeting area. At first, the re-educator in chief did not hear anything, but the regular screams, like refrains, finally caught his attention :

- What's that ?

The audience was waiting for this moment :

- Sir, the inmates in the solitary confinement cells would like to attend the meeting.

The re-educator seemed to have understood. He only realized then that such inmates existed. And he was also talking about love between countrymen. So he ordered in the most natural voice:

- Let them out!

Vu Luong came out. Staggered. So did many others. He had never seen Vu Luong in such conditions. A black beard covered his cheeks. Deep sunken eyes. Undone hair. Emaciated. The blue uniform had become too large and floated in the wind. Luong was severely anemic. Luong saw Tuan, walked toward him. He made room for Luong. Luong, standing straight up, said loudly and clearly :

- Sir, we, the inmates of the solitary confinement cells are here present, Sir!

-You may sit down.

Luong sat down next to Tuan, in the fourth row. They were sitting on wooden boards lined up on the ground. He squeezed Luong's hand. Luong whispered :

- I am starving.

Somehow, he managed to find a piece of bread and gave it to Luong. Luong held on tightly to the bread. Arms rested on his knees, he bent down and devoured the precious food. Luong tore the bread into small pieces. He had to pull hard because the bread was very tough, but had to avoid wide ranged movements for fear of drawing attention. Luong chewed, his head bent very low. Luong pulled , tore, devoured. His shoulders moved slightly with each effort. His beard went up and down as he chewed and chewed. His noisy breathing could be heard. Luong only stopped when he had almost finished the bread, looked up with his sunken eyes toward the re-educator in chief.

That's what the solitary confinement cell was about. Tuan was about to be put in a solitary confinement cell. The cabbage. The bag of coal. The handful of aromatic herbs. Undeniable proof of his illicit cooking. He could not sleep, he kept on thinking. During the five years spent at different camps, he had never known the solitary confinement cell, except during the initial period when he was awaiting his sentence. He had no fear that such a punishment would affect his sentence. Just as he never believed that a good behaviour could shorten his prison term.

Nobody believed such a thing , no matter what the re-educators said.. The two sides understood each other all too well. Those who talked , kept on talking. They knew that they told lies, and that no one believed them, but it did not matter. They spoke with sincere voices, with conviction. Speak of the Truth, speak of the right Path. Those who listened, displayed interest, utmost concentration, passion. Perceive the Truth. Opened their eyes. Opened their mind. They knew, however, that even the re-educators did not believe in their own speech. But it did not matter.

They kept on looking like believers, true believers, grateful believers, knowing only too well that nothing could deceive the re-educators. The comedy dragged on through the years. Because no one spoke the truth, the comedy never ended. Each one remained with his respective role : preacher or believer. It did not take much intelligence to realize the obvious.

Nguyen Van Pho, who showed an impeccable record, still lingered on in the camp after eighteen long years. Those with a specific prison term, are freed on time, even if they started fights the
night before. For those who, like him, had a somewhat vague sentence, it was the socio-political situation at large that dictated when they got to go home. It had nothing to do with a good behaviour. And even less with a hand ful of aromatic herbs.

He loved aromatic herbs. He picked them wherever he could find them. Basil, mint, common mint...And to smuggle them into camp had never been a problem.Once he had been caught by an re-educator, but nothing was seized. He had thought he could foresee everything, but could not
deceive the re-educator. His aromatic herbs were in a plastic bag, wrapped in a wet towel held in his hand, as he walked listlessly back to camp.

- You, yes, you over there ! Stop !

He turned around calmly and , with self confidence, opened up his back pack. It contained only a few clothes freshly washed in the stream, his bamboo pipe all cleaned up and his empty mug. But the reeducator on duty that day, who happened to be Mr Thanh Van, did not look at his back pack. He ordered instead :

- Unfold your towel !

He was sure the herbs would be seized, but the re-educator only commented :

- You inmates, you have so many tricks.

Then Mr Thanh Van shook his head, looking puzzled :

- Why, but why do all of you keep bringing back aromatic herbs ?

Mr Thanh Van did not seize anything; he only wanted to reaffirm that he knew everything, that nothing escaped his vigilance. He wanted to thank the re-educator and wished to give him an honest explanation : dear Sir, you do not understand us. Aromatic herbs are the taste of home, the taste of freedom. Each leaf of mint, of basil reminds us of Tet (the New year) or the celebration of the anniversary of the death of an ancester. It reminds us of our parents, our wife, our children all gathered under one roof.

Those memories are brought back to life and we convince ourselves that everything, including the taste of aromatic herbs, still exists and still waits for us in another world. Even if we have to stay here five or ten more years or even longer, what is waiting for us gives us the energy and courage to face each day. Each long day. Followed by yet another day.

=======