by Anchee Min
“Mother leaves our door open all year long,” Pearl said.
“She will receive anyone who knocks?”
“My parents love any opportunity to introduce Jesus Christ.”
“But Carie cares about people, doesn’t she?”
“Yes, my mother does, a great deal, unlike my father, who cares only about God.”
“I don’t know about leaving the door open all the time,” I said. “Beggars might get in and it would be hard to get them out.”
“People who show up are ‘too poor to afford a string to hang themselves with,’ in my mother’s words. ‘Foreign Mistress, Carie TaiTai,’ they call her, and beg for food.”
“Your mother has to put up with a lot.”
“This is nothing compared to what she has been putting up with from her husband.” Pearl told me that Carie had tried to convince Absalom to leave China in order to save her dying children.
“Does your mother still want to leave China?” I asked.
“No, she gave up.” Pearl paused and then went on. “The visitors Mother truly enjoys are sailors from America. She bakes cookies for them and they love her for it. After food and wine, Mother and the sailors sing ‘Afar from Home’ together. They all laugh and cry at the same time.”
* * *
As Pearl predicted, Carie was pleased the moment she found out that I was willing to join her children’s choir. She took me to the piano and I sang “Amazing Grace.”
Carie showed me how to steal breaths when hitting the high notes. I learned not to strain my voice. To instruct me, Carie began to sing other songs. I loved Carie’s voice although I had no idea what she was singing. I promised to come again for lessons. Carie believed that my voice would change for the better with practice. After a couple of months, I did improve. I was able to carry the high notes effortlessly. I could imitate Carie’s voice, and I also had the ability to memorize a song once Carie had sung it. Soon, Carie invited me to sing at Absalom’s Sunday service. I sang the song clearly withemotion as if I understood the lyrics.
Pearl was proud. Her face glowed when Carie said, “I thank God for Willow!”
Absalom was also impressed. “Keep up the good work for the Lord,” he encouraged.
I knew in his heart Papa didn’t care much about God although he pretended that he did. I figured that I could do the same. What I loved was to sit by Carie as she played the piano. Carie never quizzed me regarding my knowledge of God. I was grateful that she didn’t mind that I sat quietly. She said that a child ought not to miss the joy of music. She would sing a tune that came to her mind. I would hear seasons in Carie’s voice. The sound of spring was like the Yangtze River filling up the creeks. Her sound of summer was like the sun’s touch. Autumn was colors that vibrated and heightened my senses. Her voice of winter was deep, a story of snow.
While sitting by Carie I felt happiness. But once in a while the words would fill my heart with sadness. It would happen in the middle of my practice. I would choke and break down. Carie would put her arm around me.
“Let’s take a break,” she would suggest. “I’ll play you my favorite tune.”
Carie’s music never failed to cheer me up. When Carie was in a good mood, she would sing duets with me. I loved the sound we made together. If I began to get an idea about heaven, it was through singing with Carie.
“Willow, how I wish that I could take you to see America,” Carie said one day.
Carie spoke about her homeland. She said that she didn’t mean to live in China forever. It was her duty as a Christian wife to follow Absalom to China and set up her tent in the small town of Chin-kiang. It was not her choice, she emphasized.
I asked Pearl if she shared her mother’s feelings.
“Well, China feels more like home to me than America,” she replied matter-of-factly. Pearl hadn’t been to America since she was three months old. “America is my mother’s real home and she says it’s mine too.” She paused and then added, “America is where Mother comes from and where she wishes she could return.”
“What about you?” I asked.
“I have no idea where I will end up eventually.”
I asked if she missed America. She laughed. “How could I miss something I have no idea of?” I asked if she knew her relatives in America. “I know their names,” she replied, “but I don’t know them personally. My parents talk about my aunts, uncles, and my cousins. They are strangers to me. The only people I know besides my parents and sister are your people. I am afraid that one day my father will decide to return to America. I can’t imagine leaving China.”
I looked at her, trying to picture the moment of such a departure.
“In a way it is sad that my mother is not like her husband,” Pearl resumed after a while. “Absalom’s home is where God’s work is. He doesn’t care where he lives, be it America or China. My mother lives with a broken heart. As far as she is concerned, her life is as an exile. She holds on to her piano, because it is from her home.”
I had noticed the way Carie cared for her piano. Its legs were in slippers—Carie raised the piano from the packed earth to protect it from moisture. In Chin-kiang water came into the rooms at the end of each rainy season. Wooden furniture had to be put on bricks. We laid planks from room to room when the water was too high. Carie’s biggest concern was that mold would eventually destroy her piano.
We practiced for the Christmas performance. Carie had translated the lyrics from English to Chinese. Although I was literate in neither language, I liked the English version better. I told Carie that the sound of “Silent Night” in Chinese was not as beautiful as in English. Carie replied, “The beauty of a song shouldn’t matter as much as its message.”
Absalom had his highest attendance ever—the children’s singing drew people in from the streets on Christmas Eve. For the first time, I saw a big smile on Absalom’s face. To celebrate, he got rid of his fake Chinese queue and let his shoulder-length brown hair hang down. It took the crowd a while to get used to his new Western-man look. Papa told NaiNai that Absalom needed the success. He had returned from a rough tour recently. While Absalom was preaching in a neighboring village, he was beaten by folks who had never seen a foreigner in their lives and who thought that Absalom was there to do harm. Dogs were let out to chase him away.
Pearl showed me Carie’s yard. “Mother is determined to create an American garden. She brought plants from America. This is dogwood and that is a Lincoln rose, Mother’s favorite.”
“This looks like a Chinese butterfly flower.” I pointed at the dogwood. “And the Lincoln rose must be a cousin of the peony.”
“I am sure there is some sort of connection. Mother said God created nature the same way he did humans. What we see is God’s generosity.”
“Do you really believe in God, Pearl?” I asked.
“I do,” she said. “But you know me. I am also Chinese. Part of me can’t talk to my parents, not that they care.”
“Do you get confused too?” I asked carefully. “I mean, about God?”
She kicked a rock off the road. “It hurts me that God doesn’t respond to my mother’s prayers.”
“Is your mother mad at God?”
“Mother is angry at Father, not at God,” Pearl explained. “She is still unable to accept the deaths of my four brothers.”
“Is that why she doesn’t preach, even though her Chinese is much better than Absalom’s?” I asked.
Pearl nodded. “Mother wants to have faith in Father’s work, but she can’t convince herself. She told me that she has a hard time staying on the sunny side.”
“Your mother shows the goodness of God to us.”
“Mother says that she helps others because it helps in healing herself.”
“A woman hides her broken arm inside her sleeve,” I told Pearl, repeating something NaiNai had said. “Your mother abandoned her parents for her crazy husband.”
Pearl and I discovered that God had a strange way of making things wo
rk for Carie. At first she wasn’t able to get people to join Absalom’s church, but when she started to help the locals, attending their sick and dying, administering Western medicines for humans and animals while refusing money or gifts, the locals began to crowd the church.
Carie was concerned that I had become a distraction to Pearl’s study. Absalom disagreed. He told her, “Pearl is doing a great service to the Lord when she takes the opportunity to influence her friend.”
To encourage my friendship with his daughter, Absalom gave me gifts such as a picture of Christ by his own hand. Absalom put Pearl to work with me using his own translation of the Bible. We fooled around instead. Pearl had a hard time concentrating on doing God’s work. Only when we saw Absalom’s shadow passing by the window did we recite the Bible in dramatic, loud voices.
Carie set new rules for Pearl about spending time with me. She was only allowed to play after she completed her studying. Carie taught Pearl at home herself. Pearl was also given Chinese lessons by Mr. Kung, a chopstick-thin Chinese man in his fifties. I sat by Pearl’s door and waited patiently. I noticed that Pearl often went ahead of Mr. Kung. She finished the novel All Men Are Brothers before the lesson even started. Pearl had told me that the novel was about a group of poor peasants who were driven into desperate situations and became bandits. In the story, they seek justice and become heroes. Mr. Kung was impressed that Pearl had memorized the novel’s one hundred and eight characters, but he criticized Pearl the way any Chinese teacher would. “A truly smart person . . .” Mr. Kung paused and smoothed his goat beard with his thumb and first finger before continuing, “. . . is the kind of person clever enough to hide her brilliance.”
“Yes, Mr. Kung,” Pearl answered humbly, and winked at me.
Papa celebrated the day Absalom made him a “Clergy.”
“I thought my best luck would be to become the church’s gateman.” Papa wept as he sat on the doorsill.
NaiNai was overwhelmed with happiness. “Promise me, son, you will honor Absalom by weathering the storms with him.”
Papa promised like a son of true piety. He told NaiNai that Absalom had started training him to be in charge of the Chin-kiang church.
“What will Master Absalom do when you take over?” NaiNai questioned.
“Absalom will work on expansion. He plans to go deep into the countryside.”
Papa told NaiNai that although he felt honored, he was having difficulty committing himself to God.
“Absalom has assigned a dog to be in charge of catching mice,”
NaiNai sighed. She worried that her son would let Absalom down.
Papa tried his best to play the part. He said that he would never admit that he was in it for the money. Papa told NaiNai that his promotion came as a result of Absalom’s fight with another man of God.
“Is there another God’s man?” NaiNai and I asked.
“A new missionary who called himself a Baptist,” Papa explained.
“Is Absalom a Baptist as well?” we asked.
“No, Absalom is a Presbyterian.”
Regarding the difference, Papa said that he was confused himself, although Absalom had explained it to him.
“As far as Absalom is concerned, Chin-kiang is his territory,” Papa concluded.
The Baptist was a red-haired heavy fellow with one blind eye. He often came by our church and told the crowd that Absalom had it all wrong. He pointed out, for example, that Absalom only sprinkled the heads of his converts when he ought to soak their heads in the water.
This made sense to the Chinese. The logic was that if a little water was good for the soul, more water should be better, and that a deep soaking would be the best way to go.
Absalom was convinced that the Baptist was here to destroy his work by snatching away his converts. “He is planting doubts in their heads about me,” Absalom complained to Papa.
I didn’t know how to deal with the Baptist when I met him outside the church. By walking away, I would insult him. So I waited until he finished his preaching about immersion.
Our encounter upset Absalom. He vowed revenge.
NaiNai predicted rather gladly, “The fisherman profits when a crab and a lobster are locked in a fight.” By fisherman, she meant Papa.
Papa agreed. “I heard Absalom shout at his wife,” he reported, mimicking Absalom. “‘I have taught, labored, and suffered all the troubles of instilling the fundamentals of Christianity into the heathens! It is nothing short of religious thievery when my future members would be added to the Baptist’s glory!’”
“Is it that serious?” NaiNai wondered.
“Oh, yes, for Absalom,” Papa said. “How otherwise would I receive my promotion as a Clergy? Absalom is no fool.”
“You’d better not meddle,” NaiNai warned.
Papa smiled. “I would benefit more if their fight continues.”
NaiNai shook her head and said, “Being a crippled donkey walking on a broken bridge—you are going to fall sooner or later.”
“I am no longer the same rotten character you think,” Papa said. “I’ll not be the one to bring Absalom’s church into contempt. Absalom will win.”
“I just want to be able to have a clean conscience when I die.” Tears filled NaiNai’s eyes. Papa took out a string of copper money and laid it by NaiNai’s pillow.
“Absalom paid me for your medicine, Mother.”
NaiNai cupped her face in her palms and began to weep.
“Where is Absalom now?” I asked Papa.
“He is touring the countryside. Perhaps he is in the middle of conducting a study class.”
“Does he teach?”
“Yes.”
“What does he teach?”
“Absalom teaches Bible history, philosophy, religions, Greek, and Hebrew. He spreads the Gospel.”
“Does he take women disciples?”
“No, Absalom’s disciples are men only.”
“How far does he travel?”
“As far as he is able to reach.” Papa paused for a moment and then added, “The man is ambitious. I have little doubt that his Christian God will conquer China one day.”
Papa told me that he was amazed by the fact that educated Chinese youths were willing to follow Absalom.
“Absalom has converted even Chinese Muslims.” Papa scratched the back of his head in disbelief. “I believe it is the way Absalom wages the war of God that attracts young people. He is absolutely committed and stubborn. A zealot, so to speak. The young worship his energy and determination. More than anything else, he sells God’s victory. People want to follow a strong man, a leader.”
I asked Papa, “How can you be a Clergy if you don’t believe in God one hundred percent?”
“Keep your voice down, my daughter.” Papa was embarrassed. “Be the keeper of my secret. According to Absalom, God will call.”
“Have you been waiting?”
“Yes, I have, and I must be patient.”
“I hope you mean it.”
“I do,” Papa swore.
The winter of 1899 was brutally cold. Sky and hills merged in one bitter whirl of wind and snow, which was rare in southern China. In the mornings the valleys were silent under their blanket of whiteness. The weather helped Papa achieve the attendance he had promised Absalom. Attracted by the church’s warm fire, the poor gathered under the portrait of Jesus Christ and prayed.
The way Papa preached the Bible was different from Absalom. Papa told it the way he would a Chinese story. He prepared his material carefully so that it would always have a suspenseful beginning and a satisfying end.
When Absalom returned from his trips, he was bothered by Papa’s exaggeration and invention. Especially when Papa compared Jesus to the Chinese folk heroes, even the fictional Monkey King. Papa argued that the Monkey King had the same kind heart as Jesus. Papa’s aim was to do whatever it took to keep the audience coming back.
“Stick to the Bible from now on,” Absalom ordered Papa. “Emphasize that
the journey of the faithful will be over a lifetime of poverty and sacrifice.”
Papa convinced Absalom to at least allow him to mention Buddhism. “I’ll use the concept as a tool to ease people toward Christianity,” he promised. Answering Absalom’s doubts, Papa said, “Nobody likes to be told that their religion is bad and silly.”
People attended the church, but no one agreed to the conversion. Calling on his wits, Papa became inventive. Inspired by the local fortune-teller, Papa copied drawings from the Bible onto cards with which he played with the locals. The rewards for joining the church and obeying God would be good harvests, sons, and longevity. For punishment, Papa described scenarios borrowed from the Chinese hell, where men and women were chopped to pieces and fed to beasts.
Pearl burst out laughing when Papa exchanged the names of Chinese gods with Christian saints. For example, Guan-ying as Mary.
“Absalom will tear out his hair for this one,” Pearl said.
I asked if she missed her father when he was away. She said that she didn’t. “I don’t know him enough to miss him.” She adored Papa and thought that he was funny and creative. Pearl especially enjoyed the New Year’s couplets and riddles Papa created. The phrases were from the Bible. Papa gave Bible Sticks for people to draw—an idea he stole from the Buddhist temple, where drawing fortune sticks was part of the worshipping ceremony.
Absalom continued to complain, and even threatened to fire Papa. But he was impressed with the results. Church attendance soared. The Chin-kiang church was now known throughout the province, although there were still not enough converts.
Pearl and I were told by our fathers to influence our playmates. I didn’t feel comfortable talking about a foreign god. Pearl shared my feelings. We bribed our playmates with games and food in exchange for promises that they would show up at the church on Sundays. The trouble was that once the children became too familiar with Papa’s Bible stories, they wanted different stories or they would stop coming. In the meantime, spring arrived—and the laborers left for home to work in the fields.
