(Part 2/3) “Time passed and relatives brought home a young man to meet me. He was a good man. He told me about his small house. He told me he could read and write and that he also taught children in his community. I agreed to marry him. When I arrived at this house, I was finally happy for the first time in my life. I saw that I would not have to struggle for food and clothes. My husband also loved me. I remember not so long after our marriage he came to me and said, ‘You have suffered enough, now you take care of me and I will take care of you. We will start a new life together.’

We were married and happy. Together we had three daughters. After my youngest daughter was born there were whispers about the Maobadi. But it was not my business so I never asked anyone. One day, I remember asking my husband who they were and if they looked like regular people. My husband just said he did not know anything about them. Today, I think he did not want to burden me with the truth about the Maobadi. I only saw my husband as a good family man, a gentle person for his daughters, a good student, and an honest teacher to children of the community whom he taught. I clearly remember that morning. They came before dawn at 3 am. They were in their uniforms. We did not know they would come. They banged at the door and shouted, “Dai, wake up”.

He hurried to open the door and I followed him. They came inside the house and insisted that my husband goes with them. I denied their demand. I asked them their right to visit at such time and that they were not allowed to take away my husband with them. He did not even have his proper clothes on. My daughters were waking up. His mother was already crying. We had heard stories of these men in uniform taking away men from nearby villages. We had heard people telling that some returned with deadly wounds and some were never found.”