A Very Strange Encounter

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A Very Strange Encounter By Quan Van Nguyen and and Marjorie Pivar Excerpted from Fourth Uncle in the Mountain: A Memoir of a Barefoot Doctor in Vietnam

One night when I was bounding up the trail, I slammed into a tree, and the next thing I knew I was lying on the ground in a different hut. I had a splitting headache, and a different old man with strange-looking hair was looking down at me. "You are lucky that I have connected with your soul," the man with the strange hair said, "because I knew that you were in trouble, and I got there right away." I felt a wet cloth on my forehead. I was dizzy and confused. This hut was also built against a rock wall. "It's not very smart to lie unconscious on the jungle floor at night with blood trickling out of your head," he mocked. The man's voice reminded me of a crow. "Who are you? Where am I?" A sooty oil lamp hung from the ceiling behind his head, highlighting the edges of his bushy, shoulder length hair that stuck out in all directions. The walls were made of living leaves. He was a very small man. He walked over to the corner of the hut, into the light. I could see his face. He asked, "Would you like some food, Quang?" His hair had equal amounts of black and white. His skin was dark like a Cambodian's. What was most unique about his face was the color of his lips. They looked almost gray. "Would you like something warm to eat?" I knew better than to accept food from a stranger. "No? Well, how about some fruit, would you like an orange or a banana?" Before I could answer, there was an orange and a banana lying on the floor next to me. At first I thought he had thrown them to me. Then I realized that if he had thrown them, the orange would have rolled. "Where am I, who are you?" The strange man laughed. "I see you every night, and you don't even know me. Next time I am going to test you. You may think you have a strong mind, but I am not convinced." I lifted the cloth and felt my forehead. There was a bump but the bleeding had stopped. I sat up up and suddenly felt nauseated. "I've got to go," I said. "Thank you for helping me." The small man put a glass of water on the ground. He said, "Have some water. It will make you feel better." The glass slid by itself across the dirt floor and stopped in front of me. I looked at the glass, but didn't comment. I said, "Thank you just the same. I am feeling much better already." When I left his hut, I saw that a curtain of dense, leafy vines spilled over from the rock wall and covered his tiny house entirely. "No wonder I never saw it before," I thought. He walked with me to the trail, which was just ten feet from his house. He was no taller than my shoulder. "Ong Chin is up that way," he pointed. I hurried on my way. "I'll be testing you," he taunted.

Aseem Kaistha

It's your attitude and not your aptitude that determines your altitude.

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