My Brother
January 2, 2005It’s long but worth reading
I cried for my brother 6 times……
I was born in a secluded village of a mountain. Days by days my parents plowed the yellow dry soil with their backs facing the sky.
I have a younger brother, 3 years younger than me. Once, to buy a handkerchief which all girls around me seemed to have, I stole 50 cents from my father’s drawer. Father known about it right away.
He made my younger brother and me kneeled against the wall, with a bamboo stick in his hand.
“Who stole the money?” he asked.
I was stunned, too afraid to talk. Father didn’t hear any of us admit, so he said, “Fine, if nobody wants to admit, you two should be beaten!”
He lifted up the bamboo stick.