The Clay Marble

Jantu’s death and the coming rains force the family to a moment of decision, and Dara must act with Hope and Courage in the Face of Adversity. Sarun, fired up by the flag-raising ceremony, shrilly announces his plans to enlist in the Khmer Serei instead of becoming a farmer. It all has to do with “a man’s courage,” he says (150). Dara is enraged and heartbroken: Jantu has just died of her wounds and already her brother, the supposed man of the family, seems more than happy to snuff out her dreams—all of their dreams—as well. Dara suggests angrily to her brother that true courage lies in building, nurturing, and loving as families do rather than killing, maiming, or destroying.

As she shapes her thoughts and words, her hands shape a perfect sphere of clay, like Jantu’s, as if channeling her dead friend. She has taken on Jantu’s role as creator and bold dreamer. Her newfound courage takes Sarun and the others by surprise, and her brother finds himself isolated. Unwilling to break completely with his family and with Nea, he bows to necessity. The family will stay together and it will combine with Nea’s family and grow—just as Jantu wanted.

As they prepare to leave, Chnay offers Dara a cowbell that he has laboriously made himself—a token of how much he has changed, from a truculent bully who seemed destined for the army to a creator like Jantu, someone who appreciates the value of Friendship and Loyalty. He has also found a sort of surrogate family, mostly war orphans like himself whom he has befriended. He owes his new creativity and compassion mostly to the girls: to Dara’s kindness and to Jantu’s fecund imagination, which Chnay has finally come to cherish. His cowbell connects the novel’s last chapter with the very first—with the unfolding wonders at the Thai border, heralded by the melodious chiming Dara hears in the forest. Now, it sounds a note of hope for the younger generation, who may yet (like Chnay) reject violence and destruction, choosing to build and nurture instead. Indeed, in the Afterword, Dara tells us that her new, combined family has thrived and grown at their big farm in Diem Reap, and they have all kept out of the war. She looks forward to teaching her own little daughter to make a clay marble of her own.

As the caravan leaves for Diem Reap, Jantu’s clay marble falls out of Dara’s pocket, and for a moment she wants to stop the carts to try to retrieve it. Nea reminds her that the marble has served its purpose, for the “magic” was really in her and Jantu all along. Dara remembers what Jantu once told her about not letting useless “things” hold her back: grief, bad memories, objects that can break. The best things, she said, are those you can carry within you, that keep you loving and strong—like Dara’s feelings for Jantu. Without stopping, Dara throws her own clay marble into the puddle to join Jantu’s and keeps moving forward, into the future she has molded for herself, her family, and her country.