Saving Fish from Drowning - Heal Burma

AMY TAN
with the passing of the bowl, the loud oration and ritual chanting.
Wendy went over to Black Spot. “What’s the occasion?” she asked.
He looked somber. “Day of our death, miss.”
Like the Day of the Dead in Mexico, Wendy thought. “Does
everyone in Myanmar celebrate this holiday?”
“No, miss. This is not holiday-making. This is ready-making for
death. Tomorrow, maybe next day, we are dying. We think it is soon.”
Wendy ran back to the group and related what Black Spot had
said. A mass suicide? The eleven Americans had talked about this be­
fore, but during the past week the tribe had seemed so cheerful.
What had changed their minds? And here was a scary thought: Did
the tribe expect that their guests would join them in the exodus?
They’d have to put a halt to that notion right now.
Bennie went to Black Spot and asked him what he meant by
“ready-making for death.”
“SLORC soldiers are coming,” Black Spot said. “We are already
telling you before. When they are finding you, they are finding us.
They are saving you, they are killing us.”
“Oh, come on,” Bennie said, trying to calm his own rattled nerves.
“That won’t happen.”
“Why not?” Black Spot said, and walked away. He went into the
woods, where those who had died after coming to No Name Place
were now buried. He was feeling very bad for his people. He was
ashamed to realize that the boy was not the Reincarnated One. The
boy was not the Younger White Brother or the Lord of Nats. And
the ten other people were not his disciples or his retinue of soldiers.
They were tourists who had attracted nothing but bad luck. What a
disaster Black Spot had brought upon his people.
Over the next hour, there was much talk among my friends. What
should they do? These poor folks had been kind to them, had shared
their food, their blankets, their clothes. It wasn’t their fault the
bridge fell down. One thing was certain: The eleven of them would
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