Saving Fish from Drowning - Heal Burma

SAVING FISH FROM DROWNING
flesh-colored stockings that protected them against leeches and the
razor-edge stalks of sugarcane. They were working the fields, hack­
ing the cane with long sharp knives. Whack, and off came the flow­
ery lilac tops. With each slash they moved forward, six inches at a
time. December and late spring were the two planting seasons, and
winter the better of those two. The women now had only a short
time to clear the harvest and get the fields ready.
Lulu finally saw that the shadows were people. She corrected her­
self. “Ah, sorry, these are not birds. Yes, now I see, they are probably
Japanese people making secret ritual.”
“Spies?”
“Oh no, ha, ha, not spies. They are Japanese tourists. In World
War Two time, very famous battle happened here, very fierce, terri­
ble. This is key location for Japanese and KMT, because this is ma­
jor entryway to Burma, where they are also occupying.”
Wendy was lost. “KMT?”
“Kuomintang army,” Marlena explained.
“Right.” Wendy nodded, though she had no idea with which side
the Kuomintang army had been. She wrongly assumed they were the
Communists instead of the Nationalists. You see how it is in Ameri­
can high schools: almost nothing is said about the Second World
War in China, save for the American Flying Tigers, because that
sounds romantic.
“Because many Japanese died here,” Lulu went on, “they are com­
ing here to make a pilgrimage....”
Now I knew what Lulu was talking about. There was indeed a ma­
jor battle, and the Japanese suffered a big loss. Many fell in these
fields, and that’s where they remained. Their relatives come to this
site to honor their family members, to stand where they are likely
still buried. They are not allowed to do this, however. They cannot
openly honor a soldier who tried to kill Chinese people so that Japan
could rule China. China has a long memory. But no one complains if
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