- Registration time
- Last login
- Online time
- 81 Hour
- Reading permission
Living in a small town, I was annoyed by peddlers’ shouting as well as butchers’and groceries’ smells. Therefore, ever since my childhood, fresh and peaceful atmosphere in countryside was my dream. That was why I was longing for visiting grandma’s village and considered it as my paradise. As soon as I got the visiting forecast, I immediately counted down the coming days with my fingers. The excitement really was no less than village children to down town for movie or sightseeing. |
My grandma was my mam’s stepmother. She got two daughters again for my grandpa after her remarriage. Perhaps, it's the tough nature for stepparents to satisfy their adopted young ones or due to her occasional negligence to settle a conflict; we strongly felt the estrangement between my mother and my grandma, even though, nothing happened to them before. Therefore, when we talking about her, we never forgot to add some modifications, such as “step-grandma”, “the second grandma”, “latter grandma” etc..
“Oh, my daring! my heart! my honey! It is so nice to see you here!” grandma was excited by our visit and always rushed at the dinning hall to meet me with her fingers combing her messy and gray hair. To such laud and fervent welcome, I shouldn’t have any suspicion, however, I was so deeply affeced by the story of “wolf grandma”, that I never came out from its shadow, and always considered her any action as on purpose.
“Grandma,” I faltered to her with an obvious reluctance. Then, passed her my gift bucket and run away from her house, just like a gust of wind, to find my cousins.
My cousins were very happy for our reunion at all time. The most ceremonious reception was to share a countryside practice, ride on cultivating buffalos.
“Wenzili, Wenzili, we are coming!” a cheerful hail together with a herd of massive and muddy buffalos toward to me, where my friends were brandishing reins and galloping on. Some excited fellows even lashed up the beasts’ tails loudly. The immediate reaction was the buffalos’ madly running, which caused me a great scaring. They scattered to surround me and took no care to my panic. By sudden rein-tightening, the buffalos were askew heads and howling to me for my unexpected coming. I was very frightened and almost cried out. On the contrary to my cowardice, my friends agilely grounding from the backs and emulatively passed their reins to me, just as swift as a herd of groundhogs. They eagerly want me to ride on their “sedans” and scooting around. Facing on the dirty and unattainable beasts, I had no idea, but manage to hide my scaring.
One of my friends promptly showed me the way. Firstly, he gently said something to the beast. The buffalo was $$ely lowlihead with sound breathing and dull eyesight to its little master in front. As soon as its head was low enough, the cowboy, with a pair of bare feet, prompt stepped on its calvaria between two horns. To my surprise, just like an excavator, the beast slowly rose its head up. When it reached to a proper height, the little boy bestrode on its neck and rapidly climbed to the back, then, revolved his body with hands’ support. Just like a acrobat, he had steadily riding on the buffalo already. With his triumphant whistle and proud rein-waving, he joltily ran away, then came back again, then firmly passed the rein to me. In this way, I wanted but had no reason to refuse his kindness. However, I had an emulative nature from my childhood and always unwillingly to drop behind someone else. I had to boost my courage and held the rein bravely. The cowboy shouted to the buffalo to avoid its wildness to a stranger. Sure enough, the horns were also approaching to me. Staring these sharp horns, I immediately associated with the scene of Spanish bullfighting. The bull horns fiercely charged to matador’s private parts and made his blood spout to the red rug. His screaming was still resounding around my ears. I could not help to shivering. Finally, under several hands’ support, I’d managed to ride on buffalo’s back. With a slight lapping on its bottom by a little boy, the beast started to walk. Since no pedal on my feet, nor saddle to support my seat, only a ridgy back bone against my vertebra and periodically generating pain to me. For several times, I was almost fallen by its alternant movement of bony rids. With my friends’ powerful support, I finally completed a hard trek and arrived at the another side of a small rice field…….
It was late autumn after a harvest, when the field lay waste. Only remaining rice stubbles were curling up with cold wind. “ Let’s jump to a fire” someone suggested. “Ok!” the others answered at the same time. They all rolled down simultaneously from their buffalos’ backs and were walloping around……
The remaining rice stubbles were very dry and easy to pull out since the roots had rotted already. Just a moment, a pile of stubbles were as lofty as a hill. Then, against the wind direction, they lined to block the wind and fired a match skillfully. Immediately after its igniting, a cloud of smoke raised to the sky and uncountable flames came out from the stubble pile with constant sounds just like bursting fire-cracks.
After an enthusiastic hailing, one of the oldest boys suddenly shouted out and was swift charging to the fire. As soon as he reached to the needfire, he jumped out with his leg’s open, just like a brave monkey. He got success and proudly returned back with a complete black face and a pair of white eyes blinking. His heroic mettle frightened me a lot but largely encouraged the other cowboys. Without any mobilization, they all rushed at the fire with loud crying. Occasionally, might someone jump with an improper posture or less strength, he fallen to the fire and got his clothes on fire. With a fanny looking, he immediately rolled over the ground to put the fire out, then tried it again in others fleer…… (To be continued)
Extracted from< A Dedicating Dream> written by Wenzili with all rights reserved
[ Last edited by wenzili at 2006-2-23 07:35 PM ]