by Paul Yee
Ba called together his bookman and my bookman. They decided I would switch crews. No one asked for my view. If I had blurted, “No, I don’t want to go,” then Ba would have lost face. I saw Ox Uncle from the ship, and still disliked him. He walked with a limp. Another man wore a hardened scar that jagged across his forehead, nose and cheek. I wondered if this crew had worse luck than my group with work accidents.
The boat chugged to our camp, and I hurried to get my belongings. Wong Brother’s blankets and clothes had vanished. When I said goodbye to the crew, Wong Brother did not appear. This time, he really had left.
I felt bad. I had not said goodbye to Wong Brother. Now there was no time to speak one-to-one with anybody. My face crumpled. In five months’ time, we had all changed. More hardship lay ahead, but who knew what it would be? I desperately wanted to see how we would all turn out, but that was impossible. I wanted to shout that we should be happy to be alive. All I did was thank the men for helping me and taking care of me. They did not know what to say either. We all looked awkward and gloomy. When Fung clapped me on the shoulder, I almost burst into tears. That was when I ran back onto the boat.
On the boat, Ba speaks loudly, as if he is a town official. I don’t understand (as usual) but he tells the workers that there should have been newsmen and picture-takers at the site today, to record our deed. He says that we should be proud of ourselves, and that more Red Beards need to hear about our work so that in the future, Chinese people can live in Canada. But why would we live so far from home? Someone scoffs and calls Ba a madman.
The river swirls angrily through steep cliffs, and Skuzzy steers around the many rapids. On rocks jutting over the water, Nlaka’pamux people fish with long-handled nets. They clean the fish and let it dry on racks. I envy their freedom. I envy how they have friends and families close by.
I write now to look busy. At the cooking tent, no one will sit by me. No one is near my age like Wong Brother. Did we both go north, or take opposite routes?
September 23, near Salmon River
The iron road is blocked by the mountain’s foot. Instead of tunnelling through it, the Red Beards will blast it away. Good! No tunnel means no rocks will drop from above and split open our heads. Already, the crew has pushed a cut deep into the rock.
My legs are sore. I am not used to going up and down, up and down all day long. We climb a zigzag of narrow wooden planks to escape the cut. Then we clamber up another slope to the top. We inch to the edge and tip the rubble into the river below. We are two crews of Chinese, but Red Beard drillers and blasters make all the noise. When they ignite a charge, they blow a whistle three times. It is barely enough time to get away because the cut goes so deep.
The first thing I asked Ba was how much money he had saved. He glared and called me insolent for failing to trust him. I desperately wanted to ask how much we owed, but my courage failed me. In Ba’s tent, the only free sleeping spot was far from him. Later, I felt bad because our tent-mates chuckled at seeing how I was not near Ba. Am I really a bad son?
September 24
I trekked along the river, looking for a fishing spot, but rubble and cliffs blocked my way. I climbed back to the iron road path.
Several sites contained tents and tall machines. The smell of spicy meats frying in the Red Beard tents made me hungry. Some Chinese greeted me cheerfully; others looked half-asleep and did not speak a word. Some squatted at the river, washing clothes. I watched the Nlaka’pamux men fish. It takes a very keen eye to spear a fish swimming through water.
From high in the mountain, a crackling stream shot down. Over it, Red Beards were building a bridge. It looked like a long rattan cage for crickets. Closer up, I saw heavy logs, carefully fitted together. Red Beard men called out, but I didn’t understand. They alarmed me, so I headed home.
Ba was at the river washing clothes. Ox Uncle laughed at him, “Why wash your own clothes? Get your son to do it!”
“Him? He has no talent for anything,” Ba replied. “I’ll do it myself.”
I stomped away not knowing whether to curse him or to thank him.
That evening, men were shouting and cheering as they gambled in a tent. No doubt Ba was there. Poy Uncle will tell me about Ba’s money, but I must find the right moment to ask.
September 26
What a pleasure to eat fresh meat. It was not beef or pork, but wild game that Cook had killed. What a good man! He took his long gun into the forest to hunt for us.
I forgot about Mid-Autumn. That was why Cook had made special food. Everyone stayed up to see the full moon. Some men toasted it with wine. Tofu Boy said the moon was bigger and brighter back home. To me it looked the same. The big difference was how cold the night was.
All the children on our street used to put candles into newly made lanterns for the festival. When they were lit, the dyed papers threw bright colours onto our faces, and the lantern parade twisted through the dark like a dragon. And what a feast we had. I pushed away those memories. I was no child now.
September 27
I almost fell into the cut. I was climbing but slipped. Someone had spat onto the plank. I swayed back and forth. I almost toppled but someone steadied my carrying-pole from behind. Last thing I needed was to hurt my leg. Later, I thanked the fellow, Tiger Face.
In camp no one ate with him. Several months ago he had quit the crew to go gold-mining. He had no luck and came back to work. Unhappily, he ended up with his old crew. They called him Traitor and Double Failure. In his view, Ba worked too hard. How could that be? I only hear Ba talk about gambling.
September 29
Ba told me to stay away from Tiger Face. “He’s a loser,” he said. I kept my mouth shut. Ba must stop telling me what to do. Besides, Tiger Face is closer to my age than anyone else here.
Chapter 8
October 1882
October 1
Ba and Poy Uncle spent the day in the gambling tent.
I trekked upriver and then followed a stream inland. Birds chirped in the dense trees and bushes. It was so peaceful that I thought no one had ever been here. Then, I saw Nlaka’pamux men, women and children, staring at me. I wanted to call out, but my throat dried up. I had walked into their house without being invited. I ran back to camp and slept all day.
Woo asked me to write a letter. Poy Uncle had told him about my handiwork. Woo’s son had sent no letters, and Woo wanted to know about the recent harvest and if their roof had been re-tiled. I read my words back to him, to make sure he was happy.
I hope he will spread the word about my little business. If Ba tells me to stop, I will refuse.
October 3
The plank was slippery from rain and Little Snake toppled backwards into the cut. Now he cannot walk properly. Ever since last week I have been especially careful. But Bookman told me to hurry up.
Puppy complained about his rain cape leaking. Thunder God sneered about low-quality Western goods from the Company store. Then Puppy pointed out how Thunder God was wearing Western pants and boots. Thunder God exclaimed, “And look how they are ripped!”
What do you expect? I thought to myself. We work around sharp rocks!
These men complain all day long, like lazy house servants.
October 6
Ox Uncle and Tiger Face were near the rock face when the whistle sounded. They ran out of the cut and were almost safe when the blast went off. Rocks flew into the air and down to the river. A chunk of mountain hit Ox Uncle and knocked him to the ground. He has trouble raising his right arm.
Ba ran to Bookman and a huge argument erupted. Ba wanted Bookman to tell the Red Beards to blow the whistle earlier. Bookman claimed he had done so, but Crew Boss said that his men could not control the explosions. Ba pointed out they were in too much of a hurry.
Would Ba have made a fuss for someone else? Of course he would stand up for his gambling buddy Ox Uncle.
October 8
Ba showed me a letter from home. Right away it gave me hope. Ma told B
a to send me home! She complained about life with Ba’s cousin. Stinky Uncle and Stinky Aunty’s sons bullied Little Brother. They treated her and Little Brother like servants. Stinky Aunty would not call Ma to dinner. Ma feared Stinky Uncle’s sons, and hid in her room all day. Grandfather got so angry that he went to live with his friend. He asked if we had earned enough money for a new business.
When I finished, Ba grabbed the letter but said nothing. I saw myself in Stinky Uncle’s house, standing in front of Ma and Little Brother. “You want to speak to my mother or brother?” I would say. “You talk to me first.”
But there is no money to send me home.
October 15
An entire week passed without worthy events, so I did not write. It rained today. I wish there was someone to go fishing with me. Does Cook ask permission from the Nlaka’pamux people before he goes hunting? Cook usually takes Helper with him so that they can carry the kill to camp. Maybe one day he will take me.
I was so bored that I even listened to the men argue politics. Little Snake predicts that China and Japan will go to war soon, and that China will lose. What? How can a Chinese person say that? The men growl at him and label him a traitor, but Little Snake tells us to look at the recent events in Korea.
Both China and Japan sent troops there after Koreans revolted against rulers who favoured Japan. Little Snake says China made a big mistake: its troops should have helped the Koreans fight the Japanese instead of helping the Japanese punish the Koreans. He claims China was afraid to do so because it knew that Japan’s army and navy were stronger.
This caused Shrimp Boy to call Little Snake a double traitor for urging that China go into battle while knowing that China would lose! By this time, everyone in the tent was shouting. It made me think of all the differences between Grandfather, Ba and me, and how we have never settled them.
October 16
The floor of the cut has two inches of mud and water. As we took our baskets, Ba said, “Don’t walk beneath the edge of the slope. Earth can slide down from above.”
I went right under it. If you’re scared, I thought, then you shouldn’t work here.
“Rock Brain, you should listen to me!” yelled Ba. “If you get hurt, don’t call me!”
I would rather bite my tongue off, I thought, than call you for help.
Everyone heard Ba call me Rock Brain. Now they all call me that. I hate Ba.
October 17
Ba was right. A huge blanket of mud, rocks, trees and bushes slid into the cut. We heard loud rumbling and the alarm was sounded. But no one knew where to run. Blind Eye and Saltwater Crisp got trapped under it. Luckily a huge tree got jammed above their heads, and deflected the rocks rolling down. I had been following them all morning, but I went to pee. That saved me from getting caught with them. Lucky me! Poy Uncle said he had seen worse, where landslides covered entire cuts and crushed the workers.
When Saltwater Crisp got pulled from the mud and rocks, the sole of his boot flapped loosely. It looked like a dog’s jaw, opening and closing. The boot was two weeks new, he said, and should have held up better.
Poy Uncle told Bookman, “See, if we don’t slow down the work, then Heaven will do it for us.”
October 20
We were clearing the mudslide when we got called away. Skuzzy took us across the river, where a huge pile of lumber lay on the shore, half in the water. We untangled the wood, dragged it to the road, and loaded it onto wagons. Earlier this morning, a too-strong current had consumed the boat’s fuel, leaving it unable to reach its destination. To lighten the load, sailors had dumped the timber overboard.
“We were hired to build the iron road,” complained Shrimp Boy. “The Red Beards should clean up their own mess.”
October 21
Payday. I have worked one hundred and thirty-two days. I owe $13.60 for the ship passage. Ba and Poy Uncle have only $10 left to pay.
When Ba demanded to know why I still owed so much, I told him I had been sick for three weeks. He snorted and reminded me that I should drink only boiled water.
I vowed to never get sick again. Ba doesn’t care about people getting sick, not when they get injured and killed so readily here. He is hard-hearted. All my life he has been like that. I guess he is trying to toughen me for a tough life ahead. But even stingy Old Foo, the merchant at home that no-one will work for, gives to beggars. Ba never gives to beggars. Grandfather did, and so did Ma.
After Ba strode away, I casually asked Poy Uncle if Ba was getting close to reclaiming our wages.
“Heen, you should have come two months ago!” he exclaimed. Ba went on a winning streak for over two weeks. He gambled in town, where the stakes were much higher, and won there too. Poy Uncle lost count but he was sure Ba had won enough to clear our debts! Then Ba’s luck changed, for the worse. When Poy Uncle saw my stricken face, he grinned and recited a proverb to reassure me: Not just one door, for good luck or for poor.
Finally he added, “Your Ba’s not worried, so why are you worried?”
Could he be right? Is there really nothing to worry about?
October 22
Men went to town to spend their earnings, but I wrote letters and earned money instead. Puppy urged his mother to cook healing foods for his wife, who had given birth to his second child. Tofu Boy asked his father to see if the neighbour would sell his land. Like me, these men were keen to go home. I found out that Bookman charges twice as much to write letters! I should get plenty of customers here.
The clerk at the Company store refused to serve Tiger Face due to his poor work record. The Company fears that Tiger Face will not stay long enough to pay his bills.
Ba gave me my first pair of gloves. I pulled them on and off a thousand times. I asked if I would be going home to take care of Ma and Little Brother.
“Ma can look after things,” he declared. “And Little Brother needs to learn to fight for himself.”
Ha! Ba hardly knows Little Brother. He is clever but not a fighter.
October 23
Two men did not return from town. On payday, they had cursed loudly at how little they had earned and how much they owed the Company. They joined the crew just before I arrived, but greatly disliked the food and the work.
October 24
Woo Uncle and a Red Beard died. They had drilled the rock and tapped in blasting powder. The explosion gave no warning. Two nearby Red Beards suffered deep cuts from flying rock. Bookman said we were lucky the men had carried in only a little bit of powder. If a full case of powder had been sitting there, more workers would be dead.
Bookman asked Ba to write a letter to Woo Uncle’s family. Ba looked angry enough to bite, like a dog. He asked what caused the explosion. Bookman did not know. Ba shouted, “You don’t know? Or you don’t want to know?”
Why is Ba so upset? He and Woo were not friends, from what I saw.
I almost blurted out that I had written a letter for Woo a few weeks ago. But I kept quiet because I did not want to be asked to write this next letter. I would not know what to say. I can only hope that the harvest Woo Uncle was asking about was a good one.
October 26
This morning, when our breath hit the cold air outside, it formed warm clouds. I wore my padded jacket. Ba had a Western jacket of heavy cloth. It was too small for him. Was it bought or was it won in a game? Had it been traded back and forth many times like a prized piece of jade?
Old Fire checked his almanac and announced First Frost.
“Chinese calendars are useless here!” Thunder God snorted. “This is Canada!”
At work, a plank broke under Old Fire, Shrimp Boy and Little Snake. They fell into the cut and got bruised, but went back to work later.
Tiger Face wore his three shirts and two pairs of pants, everything he owned. He still shivered from the cold. Sell-Ginger warned us about such weather. Will it kill us?
October 27
At Woo Uncle’s grave, we had trouble poking incense into the cold ground. Thunder
God said good thing we had buried Woo right away. Otherwise we would have struggled to dig through frozen soil. Every crew member came and bowed his head and paid solemn respects. This impressed me. In my other gang, not everyone could afford to attend the funeral and lose his wages.
Shrimp Boy gave Tiger Face another shirt. Now everyone is wearing everything.
October 29
We walked to town through the rain. I told the clerk to put Tiger Face’s purchases on my account, but he called a helper. They checked the ledger and then they looked up, smirking.
“You’re the big spender? Hah! You’re being generous? Don’t make me laugh! All your wages belong to someone else.”
Tiger Face frowned. Gleefully, the clerks pointed us out to other customers: “Look, this one barely worked. And the other one earns money that doesn’t belong to him! Can there be sillier customers? Which of these fools is more stupid, do you think?”
Tiger Face clenched his fist, wanting to take a swing at them. Luckily, Poy Uncle put everything on his account.
Chapter 9
November 1882
November 1
A Red Beard was drilling when a sharp chip flew into his eye. He clapped his hand over it, which drove the splinter in farther. He screamed and staggered about. The steam drills are powerful and their damage goes deep. They are hissing snakes. The Red Beards’ machines do the work of fifty men, but those hoses and sharp tips can betray the ones who built them.
