The Boat to Redemption

by Su Tong

  ‘Says who?’ I said. ‘We’re boat people, not soldiers. Why do we have to travel as a unit?’

  ‘Instructions from our superiors,’ Xiaogai said. ‘A new regulation. Critical times always require new regulations. Otherwise they wouldn’t be critical. The regulation takes effect today. Members of the Sunshine Fleet are not permitted to go wherever they damn well please in town.’

  I looked over at the distant streets, where people seemed to be going wherever they damn well pleased. ‘Why do boat people have to travel together,’ I said, ‘but people in town can go where they damn well please?’

  Wang Xiaogai’s gaze followed mine. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said with a derisive snort. ‘We treat everybody the same, boat people and townspeople. We were just told to deal with signs of trouble – wherever the wind’s blowing and the grass is swaying, on land and on water.’

  I hated people playing with words, so I said, ‘Does that mean you can always tell how the wind’s blowing and the grass is swaying? Fine, go and watch the wind and grass if you want, but forget about keeping me under observation. I’m going into town, it’s my right.’

  Xiaogai pushed me back. ‘I’m not going to argue with you,’ he warned. ‘Your rights don’t count during critical times, and I’m telling you not to go anywhere by yourself.’

  Baldy walked up and gave me a shove. ‘Your boat people are on their way. Wait for them. It won’t kill you.’

  But Scabby Five was the worst. Taking a red and white truncheon from his waistband, he pointed it at me. ‘That loud-mouth of yours isn’t going to do you a bit of good,’ he said. ‘Who said you had any rights? That’s one thing people like you don’t have.’

  I stared at the truncheon in his hand. ‘What do you plan to do with that,’ I said with a sneer. ‘Enter a relay race?’

  ‘Go ahead, laugh,’ he said. ‘But this is a security group, and if you disturb the peace in Milltown, I’ll use it on your head.’

  ‘Come on, then,’ I said as I pressed up close to him. ‘I just disturbed the peace. Now use that on my head.’

  Xiaogai and Baldy Chen rushed up to pull us apart, just as there was a sudden flurry of activity at the pier. The barge crews were coming ashore. Seeing what was happening, the security group sprang into action. Xiaogai pulled a whistle out of his pocket and blew it. Scabby Five and Baldy cast sombre looks at Xiaogai, who draped the whistle around his neck and said, ‘Take your positions and get ready for action!’

  Action? What was he expecting? To my amazement, I saw that they planned to follow the crews as they disembarked, like a trio of annoying dogs tagging along behind the rag-tag, boisterous gang of boat people. Xiaogai called out numbers that Baldy Chen recorded in his notebook.

  At first the boat people didn’t realize they were being followed. It was common knowledge that the Sunnyside Fleet – men and women, old and young – came to town in a slovenly group, leaving splayed footprints in the road and bringing all manner of containers with them, including woven baskets and plastic pails. Their joyful expressions belied the sounds of bickering that marked their passage – they were a happy group. So I fell in behind them, adding a morose tail. They turned around. ‘I see Dongliang’s coming with us today,’ one of them commented with a puzzled look. ‘He’s in a good mood.’

  ‘I thought you went ashore early,’ Desheng said. ‘What are you hanging around here for?’

  I jerked my thumb over my shoulder. They turned and saw what was behind them. ‘Hey, it’s Scabby Five and Baldy Chen, and there’s Xiaogai. What are they doing? They seem burdened by a guilty conscience, whether they’ve done anything wrong or not.’

  Someone, it must have been Six-Fingers Wang, uttered a panicky scream. ‘They’re going to arrest us!’ The women grabbed their kids and scattered, while the men’s reactions varied: some bent at the waist, clenched their fists and stood their ground; others wrapped their arms around roadside trees. Chunsheng, timid as always, crouched down and covered his head.

  The chaos among the boat people was echoed by chaos among the security group. A flustered Xiaogai blew his whistle madly – with no results – then cupped his hands, gesturing for everyone to come back. ‘Don’t scatter,’ he shouted. ‘Stay as a group. Don’t pay any attention to Six-Fingers’s crazy talk. We’re not going to arrest anybody! We’re here to supervise people, not arrest them.’

  Looks were exchanged, followed by a tentative return to the middle of the street by a few of the boat people, who watched Xiaogai and his friends nervously. ‘Close up ranks!’ Xiaogai shouted, repeating his gesture. ‘Close up ranks, I say! Stay together and keep going. We’re not going to arrest anybody.’

  ‘So what?’ Sun Ximing said. ‘Do you expect thanks for not arresting us? What are you up to? Who said you could supervise us?’

  Xiaogai took a sheet of paper out of his pocket. ‘Who, you ask? Read this and you’ll know who. It’s from the General Affairs Building.’

  Sun tried to take the paper from Xiaogai, then, barely literate, he called me over. ‘Come here, Dongliang, and tell us what this says.’

  I walked up and read what was on the pink sheet. It was, as Xiaogai had said, a new regulation: ‘Effective immediately, members of the Sunnyside Fleet must travel as a group on shore under the supervision of the security group.’ I read it again, this time out loud for the benefit of the people who had gathered around me. The bickering started at once. ‘Are we counter-revolutionaries or a labour-reform group?’ Desheng shouted to Xiaogai. ‘Why should we let you supervise us?’

  ‘You heard what this said.’ Xiaogai shook the sheet of paper. ‘These are critical times. When that’s no longer the case and you can go back to your normal jobs, we’ll stop supervising you.’

  Baldy Chen glared at Desheng. ‘You’ve got quite a temper, Li Desheng, haven’t you? What’s so bad about being supervised? Will it give you haemorrhoids? Or cancer?’

  Before Desheng could reply, his wife counterattacked: ‘No haemorrhoids and no cancer. Just baldness so severe that not a single blade of grass will grow on his head.’

  The crowd roared, all except Sun Ximing, who looked glum. ‘Go ahead, supervise,’ he said, ‘but not like this. Anybody who sees us will think you’re letting prisoners out for fresh air and exercise.’

  ‘Nobody cares about appearances during critical times,’ Xiaogai replied. ‘By staying in line you make our job easier.’

  Sun didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. ‘What the hell does that mean? First you say you’re going to supervise us, then you want us to do your job for you. When a cat chases a mouse, the mouse doesn’t just roll over!’

  Apparently, Xiaogai was serious about getting us to cooperate, since he offered Sun a Front Gate cigarette. Sun hesitated before accepting the cigarette, which eased the tension on both sides. The boat people continued to grumble and maintain their dignity as best they could as they silently closed ranks, no one making a reckless move. With the false alarm over, the odd procession moved slowly towards town, its tails still attached. But a subtle change came over the group, as the people rearranged themselves in families. Related men, women and children walked together in tight little units, apprehensive looks on the faces of the adults, who held tightly on to their puzzled children.

  Walking a few paces behind Desheng and his wife, I was the sole straggler. My father had refused to come ashore, so I held my tote bag as if it were his hand. Made of grey leatherette, it was crammed full of oil and soy-sauce bottles and a sack for rice. But the most important contents were in the lining pocket: two letters. Father’s letters. One was a petition appealing against the decision of the Martyrs’ Orphan Appraisal Team, in which he argued that the team had been swayed by rumours, leading to an unjust decision. The second letter was also an appeal, not on his behalf but on behalf of the spirit of the martyr, criticizing Zhao Chuntang for his passive attitude towards the preservation and maintenance of Deng Shaoxiang’s memorial stone. I recall that one was addressed to Comrade Wang Chuan
at the District Party History Office, the other to the appropriate person at the Civil Administration Section. My steps that day were heavier and more cautious than those of the other boat people, owing to a feeling that Father was hiding in my bag, vacillating between indignation and terror; I heard his voice emerge from inside: ‘Careful,’ he was saying nervously. ‘Be very careful.’

  The boat people passed silently in front of the General Affairs Building, with its sunlit, flower-filled square. A gigantic banner hung horizontally across the top of the building: ‘MOBILIZE TO WELCOME THE EAST WIND PROJECT NO. 8!’ I tapped Desheng on the shoulder to point it out. ‘Ah, so that’s what the so-called critical times are all about.’ He stopped and gazed at the banner; the others in the group did too. They may have been poorly educated, but they weren’t stupid, and they immediately made a connection between their situation and the East Wind Project No. 8, though there was doubt on their faces. Given their level of political consciousness, they did not understand what their journey through town had to do with the project.

  Seeing that the procession had stopped and that everyone was looking up at the banner put the security men on their guard. They drew their truncheons and nudged the gawkers. ‘What are you stopping for? Loitering in front of government facilities is prohibited.’

  Sun Ximing grabbed Scabby Five’s truncheon and said, ‘Hold on a minute. I can read what that banner says.’ He raised his eyes and read it aloud, stumbling over some of the words. When he had finished, he grew animated. ‘We enthusiastically support East Wind Project No. 8,’ he shouted to Scabby Five, ‘and we’ll do nothing to interfere with it. So there’s no need to keep following us.’

  With a sarcastic laugh, Scabby Five said, ‘Interfere with East Wind Project No. 8? You wouldn’t dare.’

  ‘Since you know that,’ Sun said, ‘why waste energy following us? Don’t you have anything better to do?’

  Xiaogai walked up and said softly, ‘Pipe down, old Sun. Don’t cause a scene. The General Affairs Building has been designated a strategic area. It’s where our military experts work these days. The consequences of making any impact on their work would be more than you could deal with.’

  ‘Just where have these military experts come from?’ Sun asked with increasing doubt. ‘And why would they be here at the General Affairs Building instead of on the front lines?’

  Xiaogai snorted. ‘Maybe I know and maybe I don’t, but I wouldn’t tell you even if I did. It’s top secret.’

  Brandishing his truncheon, Scabby Five tried to get the crowd moving. ‘Break it up,’ he said. ‘We’ll get rough if you cause a scene here.’

  After weighing up the situation, Sun decided not to say anything more and led the group away from the building, grumbling as he headed to the flowerbeds, followed by the rest of the group, who were grumbling too. When they reached the public toilet on People’s Avenue, they stopped and automatically reached for their belts. With a glance at Sun Ximing, they broke the silence. ‘Toilet break.’

  ‘OK, no harm in that,’ Sun said. ‘Who has to go? They can control heaven and earth, but not our bowels or bladders.’

  Xiaogai stopped Scabby from interfering. ‘Are you all going?’ As the official in charge, he mulled over the prospect for a moment before dismissing them with a wave of his hand. ‘Go ahead, do your business. But don’t forget that these are critical times and that sanitation teams are everywhere. Don’t bring Milltown into disrepute by making a mess in there.’

  Sun Ximing led the crowd into the toilet. These people habitually stopped at the public toilet every time they walked down People’s Avenue. It was, after all, the finest toilet in town, with four taps, at least two of which provided running water all year round. Automatic flushes every five minutes cleared the foul air. Local residents could use the facility daily, but for the boat people it was a rare treat, and they’d have been fools to pass up the opportunity, whether there was a need or not. A bit of symbolic relief was better than nothing. Even washing their hands with running water was enjoyable and free.

  Xiaogai waited at the door while we went inside, followed by Scabby Five and Baldy Chen, who stood just inside the doorway, one on each side, like guardian deities. ‘Watch where you’re peeing, Six-Fingers,’ Scabby called out, disgusted by the man’s indelicate way of relieving himself. ‘Are you a man or a donkey? You’re pissing all over the place. You’re in town now, not on the boat, so step up to the urinal.’

  ‘What’s your interest here?’ Six-Fingers replied. ‘Security or pissing? Or is pissing part of security?’

  ‘That’s enough smart talk from you,’ Baldy Chen said. ‘You can read, can’t you? See that sign on the wall? “ONE SMALL STEP CLOSER TO THE URINAL IS A GIANT LEAP FOR CIVILIZATION.” It wouldn’t kill you to step up closer to the urinal, would it?’

  Six-Fingers didn’t move, so Scabby walked up, stuck his security truncheon into the man’s back and nudged him forward. ‘I’m warning you, Six-Fingers, don’t give me any lip. It’s not just your pissing attitude I’m concerned about. You have political problems too. Who told you to shout something about arrests back there? I tell you, starting rumours is a political offence!’

  The stream from Six-Fingers stopped abruptly, and I had to laugh. Scabby turned his anger on me. ‘Go ahead, Kongpi, laugh all you want, but you’re a worse case than him. Do you really think we don’t know what you did?’ He jumped over to the squat-toilet area and pointed to the scribbling on the wall with his truncheon. ‘Did you write this scurrilous attack on the leadership?’

  I moved up to get a closer look. The words ‘ZHAO CHUNTANG IS AN ALIEN CLASS ELEMENT’ had been written in crayon. ‘Who says I wrote this? I don’t even know what an alien class element is. You’re the genius, you tell me.’

  He obviously didn’t know either. ‘I know it’s nothing good, or it wouldn’t have the word “element” in it,’ he said. ‘You’ve written counter-revolutionary slogans before, so who are we supposed to suspect if not you?’

  Everyone has his Achilles heel, and that was mine. I was too young to have a black mark on my record, that I knew, but I couldn’t work out what doing a number two in a public toilet had to do with politics. That added to my discomfort at having our toilet activities so closely monitored. Not knowing how to deal with Scabby, I squatted there to kill time. Keeping those guys holed up in a public toilet was the only tactic available to me in this struggle.

  Desheng also squatted a few places away, mumbling to himself. Then he decided to taunt Baldy. ‘Why aren’t you monitoring what’s going on in the women’s toilet? With your authority, what’s to stop you?’

  ‘Enough of that,’ Baldy said. ‘Our security group is understaffed at the moment, but there’s a female comrade coming.’

  Scabby Five appeared at my side and glared at me. ‘Kongpi,’ he said, ‘is that the best you can come up with, a bit of passive resistance? You’re supposed to pull down your pants before you shit. But go ahead, squat there. I’ll keep you company.’

  As I looked up at the crayoned graffiti on the wall – ‘ZHAO CHUNTANG IS AN ALIEN CLASS ELEMENT’ – I wrestled with the word ‘alien’. ‘I’ll squat here as long as I want,’ I said, ‘and I’ll get up when I feel like it. You’re welcome to stay with me if you can stand the smell.’

  ‘Kongpi, your thoughts stink worse than your shit. You and your anti-socialist hatred.’

  ‘Bullshit,’ I said. ‘I love socialism, it’s you I hate. Your kid brother and sister stole half a buttered bun from me. That’s a political issue – why don’t you deal with them?’

  ‘You hate the proletariat,’ he replied, ‘which means you hate me because I’m part of it. Interesting how you can’t let go of something as small as half a buttered bun.’

  All the time I was arguing with Scabby Five, my eyes were fixed on Zhao Chuntang’s name on the wall. Every debt has a debtor, every injustice a perpetrator. With hatred building up inside me, I spat on it. Hatred, Scabby Five had said, and he was half ri
ght. I didn’t really hate him, or Wang Xiaogai. I no longer hated my childhood enemies, and as I squatted in that public toilet, I began to understand the blind hatred that had risen within me: my number-one enemy was my father’s number-one enemy; my father’s enemy was my enemy. And that was Zhao Chuntang. I hated him from the bottom of my heart.

  And so, finally, I got to my feet, looked at Scabby Five, and said, from memory, one slow word at a time, ‘“Zhao – Chun – tang – is – an – alien – class – element.” How’s my pronunciation?’

  ‘I wouldn’t be too cocky, if I were you,’ he said. ‘Sooner or later we’ll get to the bottom of that slogan, and whoever wrote it will be punished.’

  When I emerged from the public toilet I spotted the green window of the Milltown Post Office. A postbox stood at the entrance, tall and dignified, mouth open, seemingly waiting there for me. The boat people had no need for the post office, which they had passed on their way to the open-air market. But that postbox and I had an appointment. When I reached it, I considered stuffing in Father’s letters while I was being watched by the security group. I delved into the bag, and when my hand touched Father’s letters I looked behind me, to see Scabby Five staring at me, his eyes shining. ‘Be careful,’ Father had said. ‘Be very careful.’ It was strange, but I felt the letters slip through my fingers, letters that had retained the warmth of Father’s hands. But this time they were fearfully cold, as if they wanted to escape. I tucked them back into the lining, and that made me feel that I was keeping Father safe with me.

  I followed the boat people to the marketplace. This was the women’s domain, and where I too could take care of some small matters. By now the security group had herded the men into the open-air market. ‘Do what you’ve come to do, but do it together,’ they said. ‘Form lines and don’t squabble.’