"Got you at last," chanted the boy with his arm in sling. "My father is going to be very proud of his son. He always said, 'Don't lose your temper when dealing with an enemy. Be craftier than they are. Deal them dirt and let them lose.'"

"Ji-jing, better tell your cousin the truth. We know you have a voice," the one called Kah-li ordered.

I refused to answer even when all of them blocked my way so I couldn't get by them.

"We've heard you talk to that silly tree," gloated my cousin letting go the back of my collar. "Didn't know we hid down below and watched you, did you? Girls are so dumb. They can only think about one thing at a time, and it's usually about clothes or gossip."

"Not so dumb as to actually want to destroy a beautiful tree," I threw back in his face. "That's what I call dumbness. That tree is years older than even your grandfather. If Uncle has it destroyed he'll have more to worry about than being cursed by a Malay bomoh from Fisherman's Hole."

"What's a 'bomoh,'" asked the small Ah Tian.

"Like wizard or witch doctor," Kah-li remarked.

"You think you can do curses?" laughed Ah Tu. "For a person who never talked, when did you take lessons in conjuring?"

"Is that what a bomoh does? How could Ji-jing learn cursing" argued little Tian. "She never talked before. I thought she was dumb."

"At least I didn't fall off a limb and break my arm?" I taunted, giving Ah Tu's cast a not so light tap.

"Ooooh! Watch the rough stuff. I swear something made me lose my balance. Just when I was hanging by one arm reaching around with my feet, I swear something gave me a little push, and I lost my hold. As you can see I really did fall. Almost thought I broke my whole shoulder, but it was just my arm."

"You don't really think someone pushed you, do you," I asked, raising my eyebrows. Casting a little doubt in Au Tu's direction might distract these rowdy boys.

"Wasn't me," protested Tian. "I was on the ground."

"Wasn't me," came from Kah-li. "I wasn't anywhere near him."

"Never saw my father so angry, even the day he insisted someone put a dragon/tiger curse on him," Ah Tu smirked. "Guess my plan is going to work for real. At first I was going to say I fell and pretend my arm was broken. This is even better. Your precious tree is going to be no more. I'm going to stand by inspecting every inch as they cut it up. If you've hidden anything within it, I'll find it. You can be sure of that, and that's the truth."

"We're going to help," added little Tian.

"I'm not going to let them cut down Old Saga," I vowed, trying to walk around little Tian and get away from these tormentors. Like vultures, some boys couldn't resist pecking away at a victim's skin to feast upon bare flesh.

"Then admit you know where my father's antique dragon jar is and tell me," commanded Ah Tu.

"We know about girls and their secret hiding places," bragged Kah Li. "I've got sisters and know where everyone of them hide their boxes of plastic jewelry and worthless treasures."

"Boxes of worthless treasures, huh. They ought to climb inside and hide their ugly faces," laughed The Pig, making Tian laugh at Kah Li's expense. "They're no treasures. When they get ready to marry, your father will have to pay somebody to carry them away."

"What are you laughing at, Tian?" Kah Li admonished. "They are my sisters," he snarled, smarting from The Pig's joke. "You think Ah Tu's right and that they are ugly?" He moved aggressively forward, putting his face almost touching Tian's.

With his one good arm, The Pig pushed the two apart. I took advantage of their squabbling and walked away. They were still arguing when I rounded a corner in the path and took off for Ah Lea's house. These were mean thoughtless boys, up to no good with their tricks and pranks.

What can a twelve-year-old do to stop the actions of adult males in a society where girls are of little importance? I worked on this problem while searching for Ah Lea. When I found her, she was talking with a group of girls.

"Ah Lea, you have to help me," I cried, pulling her away. "You can't begin to know how mean boys can be."

Ah Lea still was not accustomed to my newfound public voice. Looking at me rather puzzled, she asked, "What are you talking about?" Then her faced changed as though suddenly understanding. "Still mad because of what Ah Tu did with your pictures? I thought you got even with him for that. Forget about it. You know how boys are."

"But, you don't know what is happening," I said, almost sobbing. "You haven't heard the latest. You've got to come with me. I want you to see for yourself what's taking place."

"I bet that's the most you've ever said in public," declared Ah Lea raising her eyebrows in surprise.

Dragging Ah Lea all the way back to my favorite tree, I pointed at the pile of limbs thrown on the ground and the slashed and hacked condition of the first ten or twelve feet of Old Saga's trunk. "Do you see what they've been doing?"

The boys were no longer around. They had made their point with me and left, to find other mischief, I expect.

"Good gracious. You mean the boys did that?"

"No," I was quick to answer, "the school gardener hacked off the branches with his hatchet. But Ah Tu and his little gang of Tian and Kah-li played a trick on Mr. Chong, the principal. Ah Tu was going to pretend to fall and be hurt, but he ended up getting really hurt. Broke his arm and told my uncle the tree was a menace. Uncle Fong is demanding the tree be removed. Old Saga is to be cut down!"

Now I was in a quandary. How much can I tell Ah Lea and still protect my friends?

"The worst part is, it looks as though the principal Chong is going along with Uncle Fong's demands," I informed Ah Lea.

"How can principal Chong believe that this innocent tree can be a threat to us kids at school? Nobody plays this far out of the school yard. Well, except for you, I guess," observed Ah Lea.

"Actually someone, either Uncle Fong or Principal Chong hired men with chain-saws to come and cut her down," I hurriedly explained. "This beautiful magnificent jungle giant is one of the last of her age left around Nakowit. Anything this big and close to the river gets cut and floated down-river to the lumber mills.

"Might even be loaded aboard a Japanese freighter and cut up in Japan," added Ah Lea.

"Either way she's going to meet her death. Look at her. Listen to the mournful swishing of her leaves. Can you hear her message? I've spent enough time cradled in the arms of her branches to know what she's saying," I lamented.

"Really," Ah Lea remarked in a tone of voice showing she did not believe trees could be saying anything.

"Old Saga is asking for help. We must do something. If you are really my friend, you'll help me. In fact, we must enlist the support of our class," I responded, walking faster with my friend.

"What good would that do?" asked the puzzled girl, still reeling from so many words uttered by her usually silent friend.

"Strength in numbers," I responded. "As a group, we might be able to stop that tree from being destroyed."

"Goodness, have you ever changed. For years you've been speechless. Now you talk of being a class leader. Do you think the class would be interested in an old tree? I don't," Ah Lea replied, shaking her head.

"They should be, it concerns our neighborhood after all."

"You're beginning to sound like those people they talk about on TV. What do they call them? Envir... environment people, or something like that."

"Environmentalists. That's the word," I offered. Then an idea came into my mind, stopping me in my tracks. "I know how we can do it. First and foremost, we must get the class interested in trees. We must ask Mrs. Chan to give us a lesson on trees and other green things and what they do to keep mankind alive," I suggested.

"I have a better idea. Why don't you ask Mrs. Chan if you can give a talk on trees? Then you can tell us everything you know. Since you feel that strongly about it, you should do it yourself."

"But, in front of the class I'll freeze up and not be able to say a word."

"You are talking like an upper-classman right now. I'm impressed. You spoke before when you were angry. So, get angry. Your tree even has a name. You called it Old Saga, didn't you? Since you're so interested, and it's your idea, you should do it to save him."

"Her," I corrected.

"Think of her as a friend. Forget your shyness and say what you have to say so others can know about it. You can do it. If you need me to stand up there with you and hold your notes, I'll do it. You know me. I love being up there in front of everybody."

"You'd do that for me?" I asked, seeing her as my true best friend for the first time in weeks.

"Why not? You're the most knowledgeable about trees. I don't know anything about them, but I know you can do it," Ah Lea encouraged.

By the end of that day, we met with several of our classmates. In no time at all, we had them interested in trees and their contribution to our life. We carried the discussion over to class.

"How interesting," was Mrs. Chan's first reaction when we plied her with questions. "It sounds as if you all want to learn more about the earth's eco-system. Ecology is an important subject given in many schools and universities around the world. It is particularly popular among young people.

Over the next few days Mrs. Chan took time during our science periods to teach us about the earth's ecological systems. Many problems faced Mother Nature because of man. The world's problems were large. What we learned was scary. Along with Brazil, Malaysia had the worst record for "strip-cutting". This was completely cutting and clearing everything off the land, leaving a wide path of total destruction. At least it wasn't the "slash and burn" custom found in other rain forests such as in Central and South America.

Indonesia actually burned so many of their rain forest areas the air quality of Southeast Asia became hazardous to people's health. No one breathing that air could doubt it was dangerous. They wore masks or stayed inside. Incidents of asthma and lung damage multiplied enough to worry most thinking about living or traveling there. Children were most at risk.

I had my own contribution to give to the class. This I did by a carefully prepared speech. "Trees have been cooperating with man since our very beginning," was what I said in my introduction. When I wrote my notes, it was as though I could almost hear Diva's voice whispering in my ear. The report almost wrote itself.

My conclusion was: "Trees are real friends of man and we can't do without them. The rest of the world is alarmed at the rate our jungles are disappearing because of man's greed. They have been cutting trees for the exotic hardwood they provide. We desperately need all the clean air trees produce. When trees are gone, we will die. They take the carbon-dioxide we breathe out and change it to oxygen we breathe in. Think about it," I finished.

After our class heard what I had to say, they were stunned and silent. I hoped it wasn't all due to hearing me talk after all the time I was silent around them. Perhaps it was because they took trees and green plants for granted and never saw them in terms of life and death for humans. The fact their health and survival depended on trees, leaves and shrubs most likely never occurred to them.

You can imagine what happened when Uncle Fong appeared with his tree-cutters and chain saws. They found the saga tree surrounded with young protectors. Not only were there students from our class, but from the entire school. Word had gone into their classrooms.

DON'T CUT OUR TREES! appeared on a small banner carried between two of the older boys. Other students had made smaller signs that they held high so the workmen could read them. SAVE OUR TREES, said another, and PUBLIC TREES BELONG TO ALL OF US, read another.

Some teachers appeared along-side their students. A few enlightened parents also turned out. They were proud of the interest taken by their children. The braver ones stood on shoulders of friends and climbed into the lower branches of the tree. No way was any chain saw going to get close to our last remaining jungle giant.

At a signal from me, they cried in a singsong voice:

When the hubbub quieted somewhat, I managed to yell: "You must not cut down this saga tree. It is the last of our old jungle giants. Besides, it's on public property. We will not stand by while you destroy our tree friend. Please be good enough to hear us and go away."

"Huuurrrmmmp," my evil-looking relative growled at us. Uncle Fong resorted to his usual trick of winking and closing his right eye while using his left eye to glare at the large number of figures draped around and upon the tree.

"Clear a path and get out of those branches. Someone is going to get hurt," he threatened. "Get away and let us through. The chairman of the school board says he won't pay my son's doctor bills. It's only right that we cut the tree and sell off the lumber so I can have what is due me."

Uncle Fong ignored the crowd and acted as if no one could stop them. He pointed at the base of the tree and said to his hired men, "Do what you are paid to do. Get it done and over with. Why are you hesitating? Get busy and earn your money!"

How can we begin our work?" asked one of the woodcutters.

There are people in our way," said another of the Malay workers. "Children are in the tree. Not hired to hurt children. Forget it, you foolish man. Besides, if the tree is on public property you have no right to tell us to cut it down or sell it down river."

"You never told us this might happen," came the gruff voice of the first woodcutter. "I want no part of this. You probably won't even pay us until the wood is sold. They said you were a cheat and a schemer."

"What? You dare to say such a thing to me?" Uncle Fong waved his cane in the air as if to pound the obstinate tree-cutter on the shoulder.

This particular tree-cutter was not to be bullied. He pulled a rope on his machine. When the motor sputtered to life and the chain whirled around its metal track, the man said, "You want something cut down? Try this, you one-eyed loud-mouth." With a mighty swing of his huge heavy machine, he arched the whirling blades high in the air and cut Uncle Fong's cane in half.

Everybody took a step backwards, staying a good distance from the whizzing chain. "Hey, what do you think you're doing?" cried the frightened Chinese import salesman, looking silly still waving his stub of a cane in front of him.

Now the crowd knew which way their demonstration was going. "Go away, go away. There's no tree for you to cut today...." came a huge cry.

Little characters dropped from the tree limbs. One landed on Uncle Fong's shoulders. He grabbed the remaining stub of cane out of uncle's hands and rapped him on his bald spot. Several others pushed him to the ground. By then the tree-cutters grew tired of holding their heavy machines and marched off with them over their shoulders. They were heading for their pickup trucks parked in the schoolyard.

More little figures fell on Fong pummeling him with their fists. The teachers cried for them to stop. They did when they tired of their exercise. Only then did they get bored and moved away. With the threat over, people and students followed after the woodcutters and walked back up the path.

Many of the more unruly students made sure their route took them over the wiggling and struggling body of Fong. He was still sprawled on the damp ground. Each time he raised himself, some child would plant their foot in the middle of his back and push off to go down the path causing him to lose his balance in the mud and sprawl flat again.

One little boy thought the man was playing in the mud on purpose and thought to join him. He made little mud balls and threw them at other boys who got to close. Poor Fong learned he was on the wrong end of a popular cause.

Ah Tu kept saying, "Get up Ah Pa. Everyone is leaving. Let's get out of here. You have disgraced us quite enough for one day. Don't let them step on you any more. Hey, don't throw any more of those mud balls, little kid!"

"Better keep quiet, Ah Tu," said little Tian. "Everyone has heard how you staged your accident just to get even with Ji-jing. They are laughing at your father's attempt to make the school pay for your latest prank."

"I didn't tell on you," stated Kah-li. "Everybody seemed to know what you did. They think you are as crafty and sneaky as your evil-eyed father."

The student called Pang Ge walked by and ducked a mud ball thrown by the youngster who had paid no attention to Ah Tu. He couldn't resist yelling to Ah Tu, "My brother is coming back from Kuching where he's made a deal with a large import/export company. I think your evil-eyed father's customers will soon be switching to him. What do you think about that?"

"Get away from me," Ah Tu roared. "Leave my father alone."

When no one paid him the least attention, Ah Tu threw up his one good arm as though giving up. His foot came down and splatted more mud in his own father's face. He joined his friends Kah Li and little Tian and they all walk away and leaving Fong in the dirt.

"Stop..." a big voice roared. "What is happening here? Little boy, why are you throwing mud balls at that poor man crawling around in the mud? What happened to the woodcutters? Didn't they have permission to cut the offending tree down?"

Uncle Fong raised up again and spit out a mouthful of dirt. The forceful voice easily recognized and sometimes feared, was that of our principal, Mr. Chong. Uncle Fong had partially recovered. He brushed himself off, and went wobbling to lean against the tree in question. Old Saga supported him well, for one who was going to kill her.

Mr. Chong's face burned red with outrage. This was almost in his own schoolyard. He suspected his students may have behaved in such a manner, that caused this man to be covered in mud? Was it possible he hadn't even recognized the muddy face of Uncle Fong? He was about to get into one of his tirades about the little respect youth give their elders when Mrs. Chan, moved in next to us and stood beside her immediate superior.

"Oh, isn't it delightful when children fight so hard for such a good cause? It was all about ecology and the importance of our eco-system."

"I just got here and missed most of what happened. Could that be Mr. Fong over there by the tree? Did one of our students shove him in the mud? He's an important business man from our community. It reflects upon me, and might give the school a bad name as well," Mr. Chong said, sounding displeased. "Our students aren't ruffians, you know. At least they better not be."

"The local newspaper will be here any time now. I informed them about the students' demonstration," commented Mrs. Chan. "They are sending someone to cover the story for the paper and do interviews. It will probably be Mr. Tan."

We thought that was rather clever of Mrs. Chan. She knew, as did everyone else, how much Mr. Chong enjoyed any spotlight. True to form, a wide smile replaced Mr. Chong's scowl the moment he heard about the reporter. "Where is Mr. Tan? Has he left already?" he asked.

"I'm surprised we didn't see him when we first got here. It would make a unique story. Our students had never done anything like this before. Some of them even tore up long strips of green cloth and tied them around their arms. Guess they thought that was what Greenpeace members do."

"I hope Mr. Tan didn't see what must have happened to poor mud spattered Fong. I'd like to think we are more civilized than that," complained Mr. Chong. Any teacher present should have stopped those students from being rude to Mr. Fong."

Yes, Mr. Tan should have been there. We often saw the reporter around town. After all, we had only one, a bearded man who went everywhere. He always carried his camera around his neck. I've seen him roar up and down the streets on one of the few motorcycles in our village.

That was when the reporter, Mr. Tan, was seen coming down the path with his ever present camera. I hoped he might save the day with a front-page exposure of Uncle Fong's plan.

"Tell me the background for what happened here today," the reporter said after Mrs. Chan told him what had taken place.

Before she could launch into describing the events again, my uncle sat beneath the tree brushing himself off and interrupted with: "Doesn't anyone care about what happened to me? I tell you I was attacked by a rowdy group of demented children... bunch of terrorists that's what! And where was the school principal when he should have been down here?"

"If I missed the main demonstration, it was because of you, Mr. Fong. I was on the phone with the medical people who set your son's broken arm. There were no medical bills. You took him to a government free clinic. They say all these bills you are crying over and asking the school board to pay are fake. It was all a scheme on your part to float that tree down-river and sell it to the mill so you could pocket the money. I would not be surprised if you didn't put your son up to falling out of that tree."

"You mean his son fell out of that tree on purpose so that this man could use the incident against the school? That was why he suggested cutting down the this magnificent hardwood tree. It must be worth a fortune, the price they put on exotic jungle wood today. What a story for my readers."

"That is what I found out only minutes ago," explained Mr. Chong the principal. "I didn't realize the extent of his crookedness when he first came to me and demanded that either the hospital money comes out of school budget or we allow him to cut down that tree."

"What a fraud," the reporter mumbled as he wrote it all down. Uncle Fong pulled himself to his feet by clutching the old Saga tree. His weak legs were still shaking. "That makes a great picture," cried Mr. Tan. His camera came up, and we heard it click two or three times.

"No! Don't!" shouted the feeble sounding Fong. He knew he was ruined in this village. His right eye pinched shut as usual. One dirty hand reached towards the reporter. Maybe he thought he could shield his condition from the camera. It didn't work. The whole community would see his disheveled body framed against the hacked and slashed tree.

"Why don't you write the truth? I was attacked by a bunch of terrorists with green rags tied around their arms," Fong cried to the reporter as he put his camera back in its case. "I was also under an Iban spell and can't be blamed for what these people are saying about me."

"Those should make great front page pictures for our lead article of the day," Mr. Tan said, grinning happily. "Thanks to you, Mrs. Chan, for alerting our paper to such a news break. I'll want to talk to some of your students about their interest in ecology and what they are doing right here in little Nakowit to help save our world. There are many more stories here that I will be writing in the future. You must be doing a wonderful job with your students."

"Thank you, Mr. Tan. I would be happy for you to visit our classroom anytime," offered Mrs. Chan.

"There must be one student who organized the tree-saving effort. He must be quite a popular leader and public speaker. I'd like to meet him," the reporter requested.

"You will have a surprise if you do," replied Mrs. Chan. "Yes, it did take leadership, but you said he when you should have said she. Now that is another story you might like to hear and share with your readers."

At that moment my heart overflowed with love for my teacher. What a great woman she turned out to be. Only she would think of having the newspaper end permanently any more attacks upon my favorite tree friend. Old Saga would be safe now and continue playing host to a very beautiful tree spirit. I was sure even old Flambo would have been proud of the way we handled Uncle Fong.

Yes, especially old Flambo.

(c)copyright 2000 Beimers All rights reserved.

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