by Paul Yee
I had reached the outskirts of town when I kicked myself. Rock Brain! I turned around and went to the laundry. Men loitered there, puffing on water pipes, sipping tea and complaining about the weather. The owner worked at the bench, by irons heating on the pot-bellied stove. Everyone called him Hot Water Wing.
I took a breath and spoke. “Uncle, here, if the police arrest you, how long do you wait for the trial?”
Right away, the men stopped talking and started listening.
“Why ask?” snapped Hot Water Wing. “You didn’t get arrested.”
“My father was,” I replied. “A few days ago, when there was trouble at the Company store.”
Ah! Suddenly all the men were talking. My father would eat no rice in jail, only potatoes. The jailers emptied the bucket just once a week. Good thing the officials were honest. Too bad the punishment was severe. Two men had been arrested for making trouble at the Company store last year. One man was sentenced to five years in prison; the other was sent away for eighteen months. Their terms were served down the river, at Second City, where I had spent a night on the boat.
I walked home slowly. If Ba went to prison for five years, the iron road might be finished by the time he was set free. Who would remember him?
December 18
Crew Boss and Bookman shouted at the Red Beards and at us. The work has slowed. The packed snow is slippery. When we fall, it is painful. We get wet and then the cold stays with us all day. My behind still feels numb from my tumble. Thunder God had the worst fall. He tripped and landed on his knee. He couldn’t walk for the rest of the day.
December 20
A half-hearted cheer sounded at the end of day. We thought accounts would get settled tomorrow, but Bookman wanted to leave right away in the morning. He lit candles in the cooking tent and we all filed in.
Winter is expensive here! I had to buy shirt, gloves, warm socks, sweater, scarf and underwear. I had to pay the school tax to the government here. I hear that last year the Chinese workers protested this tax, but then armed police officers marched into the camps to get payment. I have $57.45 to my name while Ba has $63.65 to his. The difference is not big, yet he treats me like a child. I wish Ba had told me how much money he had lost. Are there enough funds for me to go home? Now he is in jail and everything is up to me. The police will have taken the money he had in his pockets. I am sure he told nobody at home about our money trouble, so if things get worse, it will be me who delivers the bad news. As far as I can see, he is not worried about the debt. He wins and he loses in the games, but no one can tell me if he saved any money.
I wish I had never come to Canada.
December 21
I was not leaving camp so I slept until almost mid-day! What better way was there to enjoy my new freedom?
Outside, only two tents were standing; the campsite looked bleak and pitiful. Trees crept closer, shadows loomed darker, and the cooking tent shrank. All was deathly quiet. A sharp wind whistled through and made me shiver. Suddenly I needed to hear explosions, shrill whistles and heavy drilling.
Tiger Face helped carry my bed logs to the tent. We pounded stakes into the ground to stop them from rolling. Old Fire bragged about his second winter here and scoffed, “A little cold and you cannot sleep on the ground?”
The men laughed while saying goodbye.
“If you have no food, eat Rock Brain.” Ox Uncle chuckled. “Boys have tender flesh!”
Shrimp Boy and Helper were the lucky ones. They will sail for China!
“Do not be lazy,” Cook said to me. “Walk to town whenever you can. Otherwise you will go crazy, living with these fools.”
In the tent, we will take turns cooking, cleaning and getting supplies. Every fifteen days, a new person begins. Old Fire starts. Poy Uncle had bought the basic groceries. The budget for each term is set. Anyone who overspends will pay the difference from his own pocket. Any extra money, however, gets carried over to the next term. Because I have a notebook, they told me to keep the accounts. Why should I? This is rest time! I am sick of being ordered around. If I could go back to China too, that would be best.
December 22
Old Fire has no recent details about Yale, so I must go to town before I can set out to see Ba. But Blind Eye and Saltwater Crisp begged Tiger Face and I to help find and chop down bed logs.
I had little to do today. In the eight months of work this year, thirteen workers around me were killed while on the job. Ba and I are lucky to be alive. And, at least thirty-one accidents happened. I wonder if Ma will ever see me again. And if she does, will I still possess all my body parts? Will she recognize my face?
December 23
The cooler it is, the longer the trek to town feels. Ba’s crew should be closer to town. Who needs this extra walking? Why do other people get all the luck? I must walk past three camps to reach town. No matter how fast I walk, I do not get warm.
At the wash house, customers leave piles of dirty clothes everywhere. Chinese workers bang through the door and shout if anyone had seen so-and-so in town. At most camps, Chinese are staying the winter. While the weather is nice, people come to town. Everyone likes the laundry. It uses hot water for washing, and the building is warm enough to dry clothes. Hot Water Wing has a big woodshed.
Sadly I did not see any familiar faces. The owner said walking to Yale would take two days. “Ride the train, if it is running,” he said. “Cold weather might slow it down. The train can only take you part of the way. Not all the tunnels are open yet.”
I did not mention I had no money for the train. I planned to beg for food along the way, at Chinese camps. I would also be stealing heat from their fires.
At the wash house, men were arguing. Chinese troops had marched into Vietnam to help repel European invaders. This time the enemy was a country called France. Some men felt the Chinese army should stay home and protect China. Others argued that if Vietnam fell, then the West would surround China and take our homeland too. I felt grown-up, following the debate. Too bad I had no views to offer.
December 24
I got up to trek to Yale, but Old Fire cried out, “Not today! It’s First of Winter!”
Indeed, there was fresh snow, but it did not last the day. Old Fire planned to make soup and to knead rice-flour dough for winter balls. My mouth watered and so I decided to wait a day.
December 25
Instead of being halfway to Yale, I am crouched by the little stove in our tent, writing by the light of the flames. In the middle of the night, my stomach started hurting. I jumped into my boots and ran to the latrine. To my surprise, Thunder God was there, groaning. After he left, Blind Eye hurried up, clutching his stomach and his mouth. Outside the tent, Saltwater Crisp was bent over, vomiting.
Now no one wants to eat Old Fire’s food. Tiger Face joked that Old Fire was trying to poison us so that he would not have to cook at all!
I wonder if I can live through this winter.
December 27
Today I felt stronger and set out for Yale. The men wished me a safe trip and predicted that I would get better food along the way. Unfortunately, the journey did not work out. It started snowing again. Each step I took left a hole in the deep snow.
Then I met a very strange man. At the second camp, someone called and ran out in long loping steps. It was an old man with a white beard, wrapped in a long, ragged coat. He warned me that people had seen animal tracks near the trail. It might be a cougar. “You are too young to be alone!” he said. “Turn around and go home!”
I ignored him but he grabbed my arm. I tried to shake him off but he had a strong grip. I was furious. How dare he stop me?
He realized I was determined to go, so he softened his tone and asked, “Don’t you want to work next season?”
Hah! That was the last thing I wanted, and I let him hear me clearly.
He chuckled and said that if I could see into the future, then I would change my mind. When I pointed out how impossible that was, he said he could
tell the future. So I asked him what he saw for me. He put his hand on my forehead and shut his eyes.
“You, you will soon see your mother, brother and grandfather,” he said. “They will be overjoyed to receive you. But you do not bring enough for them, and you will want to come back here. But by then it will be too late.”
How did he know I had a brother?
Then he told me not to go to Yale. He told me to stay the winter and build the iron road.
Enough! I stomped back to the trail. Ma and Grandfather in China needed me!
But by now, the snow was falling heavily. It reduced the light. I couldn’t see the path. The snow came to my knees at each step. I slowed down. Then my toes got wet and cold as water seeped into my boot. I would have kept on going if my stomach had not started to feel strange again. To be sick and cold and alone was too much to bear and I finally turned around.
The trip seemed to take forever. When I got home, the men in the tent scoffed at news of the cougar, as if they didn’t believe me. Saltwater Crisp accused me of fearing the cold. I got tired of arguing. They can believe whatever they want. If they get eaten by a cougar, it won’t be my fault.
December 28
When I fell asleep last night, two insights came to me.
Going to Yale is useless. Ba already paid for my stay in this tent. He will never change his mind and let me go to China.
Secondly, that man on the trail was no fortune-teller. All he said were a few things that applied to every person working here. I am sure he is a madman.
December 30
Choy, a same-village friend of Thunder God, came for a visit. He brought a jug of rice wine and drank with Thunder God. They chatted and laughed and ate peanuts that Poy Uncle had bought. Choy warned us to be careful in town, because gangs of Red Beards hurled hard-packed snow lumps at the Chinese.
After Choy left, Saltwater Crisp asked Thunder God to replace the bag of peanuts. Thunder God refused. He said everyone should feel free to welcome visitors. They brought news, gossip and jokes for everyone. Saltwater Crisp argued that meant strangers could stay here for free all winter. Thunder God called that an exaggeration.
Old Fire sided with Saltwater Crisp. When Thunder God asked for my view, I shrugged. I agreed with Thunder God because I would have asked for food in camps on the way to Yale. But Old Fire was the expert who had spent the previous winter here.
Chapter 11
January 1883
January 1
We have other unwelcome visitors. A mouse. Or mice. Yesterday Old Fire showed us the shreds of paper the rodents had gnawed to get at the bean sticks. We worried most about the rice, which Old Fire decided to hang from the roof. I was glad to have logs underneath me. Who wants mice running along his legs?
Old Fire walked to town for tin containers to hold the food. But the Company store was closed for New Year’s Day. Old Fire came back red with anger and soaking wet from the rain.
“That store should be open today,” he declared. “Chinese people do not follow the Western calendar. The clerks are lazy, wanting to sleep the day away.”
January 3
This morning, Old Fire started coughing. By day’s end, Tiger Face had a tickle in his throat. Now I am coughing too, and my ribs are hurting.
All of us are weak and sick. Thunder God tripped over a root and landed on his bad knee. It turned black and purple, puffy and tender. He cannot put any weight on it. He must lie still, which is difficult for him. Good thing it is winter, otherwise he would lose pay. Thunder God curses his own stupidity for falling. If he were younger, he moans, his knee would heal quickly.
January 5
Old Fire’s term ended yesterday and my turn started. I announced I knew nothing about kitchens or cooking. Blind Eye said no-one here did; we were all sinking in the same boat.
“No spitting or coughing into the rice pot,” advised Thunder God, grinning.
Old Fire had overspent on rice flour and soup ingredients for First of Winter. Cheerfully he gave me money to replace what he had used up, and said, “My treat.” Too bad I cannot be as generous.
January 7
Nobody left the tent yesterday or today. It is too cold. Snow falls so thickly you cannot see in front of you. Being stuck in a tent is painful. There is no silence because someone is always coughing. Tiger Face and I played chess, but he won all three matches. I tried to be a good loser but tired of the game. We shared a dim lantern with Old Fire, Saltwater Crisp and Blind Eye, who were playing with paper dominoes. Their shouting kept Thunder God from falling asleep, and he muttered angrily.
January 9
The men complained that I failed to wake up early enough to boil water and make tea for them. I told them to sleep in, to enjoy their rest. It had snowed and stayed cool, so all I need to do is step outside and fill my pails with snow to melt. It saves me from going up the mountain for running water or ice. That would wreck my boots even more.
When I started the fire, the room filled with smoke. People choked and sputtered and sounded sicker than ever. I feared I was causing everyone to die! Old Fire advised checking the chimney; snow might have blocked it. He also told me to scrape out the ashes from under the stove.
I offered to save firewood and money by not washing the bowls after meals. The men called me a lazy worm. “Do what Cook did,” they commanded.
I cannot wait for my term to end. Ten more days to go.
January 13
Blind Eye and Thunder God scolded me when the soy sauce and salt ran out. I had no choice but to go to town. Passing the second camp, I thought about the cougar scare, but that was two weeks ago.
The trail had been worn into slippery ice by travellers, so it was safer to walk on fresh snow. The river rushed by, which led me to think it wasn’t cold at all.
After buying salt and soy sauce, I stopped at Hot Water Wing’s, looking for familiar faces. No luck. I lingered a while for the warmth. I should have left sooner, because when I finally went outside, it felt much cooler.
I headed out of town. Suddenly Red Beard men and boys surrounded me. I ran but they blocked my way. They danced around me, hooting and yelling. They brandished snow lumps. At a shouted signal, they hurled them at me. The jug of soy sauce flew from my hands. I covered my face with my hands, but Red Beards darted in and grabbed my gloves. Snow stung my cheeks and my eyes. As Red Beards stooped to scoop more snow, I ran from the circle. Hard lumps of snow thudded onto my back. I slipped several times but kept running until their shouts faded. Then I was all out of breath and had to slow down. Afterwards I couldn’t get my feet to go faster, no matter how hard I pulled air into my lungs. I thought I might never get home.
By the time I reached camp, I could not feel my toes or my fingertips. I heated water on the stove. My skin had not hardened into ice although it was pale and white.
“Use warm water,” advised Blind Eye. “If the water is too hot, it will burn you. Your skin is weak.”
“What are you? Stupid?” sneered Saltwater Crisp. “Do you know how cold it is? Where are your gloves?”
“Be careful,” warned Thunder God, “otherwise a doctor will saw off your legs.”
Old Fire nodded solemnly. “If blood freezes in the veins, no-one can save you.”
I claimed to have slipped and dropped the jug of soy sauce. The men shook their heads. I did not mention being pummelled by snow lumps. Tiger Face slowly added hot water to the basin, to make the water warmer.
January 15
Fate is cruel. If the salt or soy sauce had lasted two days longer, then I would be all right. No humiliation, no frostbite, no lecturing from the men.
The air is warm and soft, and it rained last night. Now the men track mud into the tent. The frozen ground oozes water. The men tell me to keep the floor dry. Otherwise, they say, we will all get sick.
I do not want to go to town. Not until all the snow is gone.
January 18
The disaster I was dreading happened today. I burned the
rice. Ma always got upset about it being wasteful, stupid and bad luck. Here, I watched the rice pot carefully every time. Today I went to fetch firewood and, while outside, chopped a few sticks of kindling. Then I smelled burning rice. So did Old Fire and Blind Eye, who cursed my carelessness. I shouted them down.
They were shocked at my raised voice, especially when I was in the wrong. I offered to cook another pot and pay for the burnt rice from my own pocket. But the men backed off and did not speak to me all night. Fine by me!
January 19
Tiger Face came back from town with a letter from Ma. Uncle Stinky caught Little Brother stealing coins from his vest. Little Brother ran away and it took two days for Ma to find him and bring him home. She was forced to call Grandfather to lecture Little Brother and make him promise not to run away again. Then, Aunty Stinky snubbed Ma when they went to the temple for Mid-Autumn. She let her own sister go and present offerings before Ma’s turn. Neighbours mentioned they had seen Grandfather gambling. Ma begged Ba or me to return. She asked if we had received her earlier letter, because she had not seen a reply.
I wanted to drop the letter into the stove. Instead I will forward it to Yale, and hope someone at the store will take it to Ba in the jail. I thought to tell Ma about the jail, but that will deepen her woes. Yet if Ba gets a long sentence, then later Ma will accuse me of hiding things from her.
Thank heaven for the end of my term! I plan to sleep for days. Good luck to Tiger Face, who is next. Maybe he can do a better job than me.
