“Want to hear a story?” Ling muttered.
Yong nodded and adjusted himself to a more comfortable position … on the other side, Ling’s
father had erected a small tent for rest. He took out some dried bird meat for breakfast and some
sundries as snacks, while Ling’s mother tended the herd with water. Over the stove was a pot of
lamb milk. Ling’s father, slowly stirring the milk, was adding some dark brown powder from a
small glass bottle. Immediately, the milk began to sizzle and boil up to the rim of the pot. The
man skilfully took up the pot to prevent the milk from spilling and at the same time took a big
sniff of the rising odour, smiling and showing a sign of content. He took a tin mug from one of
the sack and slowly poured out the crude home-groomed coffee, ready for the eating.
The man seldom made any purchase but he very generously bought the coffee and the mug
when they met a team of moving traders last year. For long, the man felt very satisfied with this
specialty of the morning breakfast. This had been delicacy to him. Since then, they had not met
the traders again.
Amidst the odour of the desert coffee, Ling’s father handed over to the two young men the
bird meat, sundries, and some hot cocoa drink, which was the favour of boy and his mother.
“There had been green vegetation on this desert, you know,” Ling began his story. “You don’t
believe me, do you?
“You don’t know much about Gobi, I bet. Here, we have the very hot sun, but also the fierce
coldness. You know, we have snow sometimes.”
“Really?” Yong murmured with his mouth just full of sundries.
“Just some years ago, we had our farm with livestocks and we could grow some desert plants
and pick fruits from them. We did not need to move frequently as there was enough grass for
the goats and cows. We really had a large herd, hundreds of them. My mom liked to play with
the chicks when feeding them. You know we don’t really have many things to play with, no card
games, no machines… I see that you have your machine.”
“Machine?” Yong looked at his pant pocket when Ling pointed at the lump swelling from it.
“Oh, you mean my Galaxy Note. What an idea! I could ring up for help!” Yong quickly took out his
smartphone only to find no connection in the middle of the desert. “Sh-----” quickly held back his
foul words, “Well, we call this ‘machine’ a mobile phone for making calls and of course for games
and web-browsing.”
“Mobile phone?” puzzled at what this was, Ling continued, “I saw the other boy among the
traders we met last year playing some games with this---‘phone’?---It seemed interesting.”
“Yes, it is. You’d like one?” asked Yong.
“Well, not really. I don’t know how to play with it. And, I like my pals, I mean my goats and
cows. They are my friends.” Suddenly, he face turned dull with some sorrow.
“What is it? I have the feeling that you are not happy with something.” Yong urged Ling to tell
me more.
“They had to starve! My friends had to starve very often this year. Some died. The land’s got
much drier, and sandstorms are more frequent. It’s difficult to grow plants. We have to move to
find green spots. Life is getting much more difficult. We can’t easily get to tree zones.
“I would say those people were bad guys. Won’t you agree?” Ling was curious to know of
Yong’s thoughts.
“Who?”
“Those people who cut down the trees. Oh, they had grand reasons but I hate to listen to
