Princess Bari by Sok-yong Hwang Read Free Book Online Page B

sisters and grandmother picked in the fields, and we had rice only at dinner. Hyun, who had a delicate constitution, used to set her spoon down weakly next to her bowl of porridge, and whine:
    â€œMom, can’t we have rice instead? I can’t eat this. It’s too bitter.”
    â€œDon’t be so fussy. A lot of people have died because all they have to eat are wild greens. We just need to make it through the winter.”
    After the heat had broken and the crickets were starting to sing, we heard the rumbling of an engine outside. No one, not even anyone from the army base or the People’s Committee, had been able to drive one of the Sungri trucks or Soviet-made jeeps for a long time, on account of the fuel shortage, so we stared at each other wide-eyed, wondering if it wasn’t perhaps a car from China carrying familiar merchants. Mi took the lead as we headed out to the courtyard. A white car was already making its way up the hill. With my keen eyes, I recognized Uncle Salamander in the front seat. Ah, Grandmother was right! He was indeed a god come down from Heaven. The moment the car pulled up in front of the house, he got out and looked around at us.
    â€œYou’re all still alive!” he exclaimed.
    â€œ Aigo! Look who’s here! Our saviour!” Grandmother shouted and clasped Uncle Salamander’s hands.
    Mother came running out of the house, and Father, for once unmindful of looking dignified, bounded into the courtyard in his bare feet.
    â€œXiaolong is back!”
    â€œElder Brother, I’ve been worried sick about you. But things will be better now … Look back there. There’s a shipment of food coming through customs.”
    The first thing he unpacked when he got inside was a box of moon cakes for us kids to eat, followed by a sack of rice, three bags of cornmeal, two cans of cooking oil and some wheat flour. Before anyone could even tell us to help ourselves, we’d ripped open the box, tore off the plastic wrappers and started munching away, a moon cake in each hand. The sweet filling melted on our tongues. (Years later, after I came to live in London, I would often find myself biting into a slice of pie fresh out of the oven, only to realize that nothing in the world would ever taste quite as good as those moon cakes did that day.) Mother and Grandmother sat with their backs turned to wipe away their tears discreetly, and even Uncle Salamander looked away and took a long drag on his cigarette.
    â€œWhen the country goes wrong, the little ones are the first to suffer,” he sighed. Then he mentioned his long-awaited business plans to Father. “China seems to think that the situation here has become very serious. A message came down from the authorities to the merchants’ association we’ve been trading with. It said to deliver food relief immediately, and aid will be provided afterward in the form of loans. Those who can do need to get back to work.”
    â€œBut half our workers are gone. Most of the miners have left.”
    â€œThere’s a company that wants to haul away all that sand and dirt piled up in front of the Tumen River mines and refine it for iron ore. They’ll give you money or food, whatever you need, in exchange for it.”
    â€œThat’s just slag. How much iron do they expect to get?”
    â€œIf you’re just going to discard it anyway, why not get something for it?”
    Our throats were dry from eating the moon cakes, so we took a break to drink some water and rest, and then we started eating again, all the while listening to the grown-ups talk. It was difficult to follow, but we caught the gist of it: there was hope.
    â€œFine,” Father said. “Let’s go talk it over with our comrade, the chairman.”
    Uncle Salamander cleared his throat, took a glance around and then spoke in a lower voice: “By the way, Elder Brother … Have you heard about your wife’s