by Wai Chim
‘Don’t think you’re too old for a strong beating. I’ll get a switch and beat you until you fly …’ Her sharp eyes honed in on me. They widened in fury. I was half-sitting, half-lying on the wooden bedframe, my shoulders poking out of the neck of a dirty undershirt.
‘Wah!’ The woman walloped Fei across the ear and she cried out in surprise. ‘You’re shacking up with a boy! You chicken whore.’ Her fingers pinched Fei’s earlobe and it pulsed bright red.
‘Auntie Shu!’ Fei gasped as though resisting the urge to pull away in case her aunt tore her ear off. ‘He’s my friend!’
Torn between leaping up to defend her or staying put, I was paralysed, and Fei sobbed.
‘Your friend? Aiyah! How can you become friends with garbage like this? Haven’t you heard about his father?’ How did she know? It seemed there was no hiding from the gossip and accusations, even in another village. Fei’s aunt glowered at me with such menace that all I wanted was to disappear and be swallowed up by the bedframe. ‘I know your kind. Layabout good for nothing. A dreamer, like your father.’ She started towards me, her fist raised.
‘Leave him alone!’ Fei wailed but she was silenced by a sharp tug on her ear. Shu cuffed the girl across the mouth with the hand that wasn’t pinching her ear.
‘I will have none of your disobedience – you understand?’
There was a long silence and then Fei nodded, mute except for sniffles and sobs. I managed to stagger to my feet but I stopped short when I caught Fei’s eye. A sharp warning as if to say, ‘You’ll only make it worse.’
Finally, Shu let her go. Fei sobbed and clutched at her ear but didn’t protest as her aunt stalked out. She hesitated by the door and her head tilted so that I just caught a glimpse of her profile, eyelashes weighed down by her tears.
But she didn’t turn to look at me, following her aunt out the door.
I thought about going after her, to at least try to find her house to see that she was okay. But the longer I debated it, the more impossible it seemed. I could picture that final look she gave me, that screamed stay away.
Days later, the water jug grew slimy again and there was nothing but ash in the stove. The rest of the sweet potato was gone. My stomach ceased to growl, like it knew there was no use in complaining, and the watery mush we’d shared was nothing but a faded memory. But the girl, the girl stayed in my thoughts, tangled with my dreams.
One day, there was another knock at the door.
I rushed to open it but there was no-one there. I looked up and down the path and sniffed, certain I could catch a whiff of her unique earthy scent.
But there was only a small deformed sweet potato, left on the step.
Chapter 1
MING
The morning was already sticky and wet. Steam rose from the puddles that had collected along the roads from the last rains. I was running, my back sweaty, my hair hanging in my face. I huffed at it and the strands flew upwards, then settled in my eyeline again.
‘Ming, Ming, wait up!’ A voice called from behind me. I wasn’t the only one late this morning.
Tian caught up, his unbuttoned work shirt flapping around him, an unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth.
‘Little brother, what’s the rush? We all receive the same bag of manure no matter what time we arrive.’ He pinched the cigarette from his lips and tucked it behind his ear.
‘Easy for you to say,’ I replied with a smile. ‘We all know you’re the Cadre’s favourite.’ Tian laughed and shoved me playfully.
‘Come on, slow poke,’ he chided as he took off for the work hall.
Running through the village, the shirts clinging to our backs were drenched in moments. Typhoon season was just around the corner, which would bring welcome relief after the hot summer months in Dingzai village and the rest of Dapeng.
The work hall was set at the centre of the village. It was where we checked in with our team leader every morning, and was also where we reported at the end of the day and received our daily work points. We all worked in the fields from early in the morning until it was too dark to see. Digging, planting, picking – every day was the same, with only a rare break on the few public holidays.
As we neared the hall, I saw that we weren’t quite the last ones to check in for the morning.
‘There’s trouble,’ Tian murmured, taking the cigarette from behind his ear and tucking it safely into the carton he kept in his shirt pocket. A group of boys lingered by the entrance to the hall. Caocao, the tallest, turned and spotted us.
‘You stink breaths are late.’ Caocao ambled over to me. The tips of my ears were on fire, and I dropped my head as the gang around him sniggered. ‘That’s a deduction of at least one work point each.’ My heart stopped; one full work point was about a week’s worth of field work.
Caocao wouldn’t pick on us this way if our fathers were around. He seemed to have it in for the orphans, while his own dad was the most powerful man in the village – Caocao was the Cadre’s son and he made sure we never forgot it.
‘Mind your own business, Caocao,’ Tian said. ‘No-one made you Brigade Leader.’
Caocao smacked his lips, his eyes narrowing like a hawk homing in on its prey. ‘Brigade Leader’s a busy man. He needs some help to keep bastards like you in line. He’ll know about your tardiness before long.’ He squeezed his fist until his knuckles cracked.
‘What do you want?’ I asked, wishing he’d just leave us alone.
‘It’s been a lean month; the boys and I could use a little extra.’ The boys around us grinned eagerly. ‘One grain coupon each ought to cover it.’
My hands automatically went to my pockets. It was only when I held a coupon in my fist, worth a precious half kilo of grain, that I realised that Tian hadn’t moved a muscle.
‘Tian,’ I whispered, elbowing him in the side. ‘Come on.’ But Tian shook his head and squared his jaw, pulling himself up so that he was looking the other boy in the eye.
Caocao leaned forward so that his broad, flat nose almost bumped Tian. ‘You know, I don’t like your attitude, but I’m willing to overlook it. How about a couple of those American import cigarettes?’
And then Tian smiled. ‘Sik si laa,’ he spat.
I felt the blood drain from my face as Caocao went purple. Tian didn’t even blink, the corners of his mouth curling up ever so slightly. I felt the press of bodies as the boys surged forward, ready to teach us a lesson.
‘Good morning comrades.’ The loudspeakers crackled to life above our heads.
We all froze. Instead of the usual propaganda slogans, the Cadre himself was addressing the village.
‘My fellow comrades, a message from your esteemed Party. Field work is delayed this morning for an important announcement. Report to the assembly area in ten minutes, no exceptions. That is all.’
Tian and I exchanged a look of alarm, and even Caocao’s boys were distracted. An official announcement was hardly ever good news.
Caocao jerked his head and the group dispersed but my sigh of relief was cut short. ‘This is not done.’
Tian smirked and I had half a mind to scold him for giving Caocao a new reason to hassle us. Before I could say anything he clapped me on the shoulder and took off. ‘Come on, we don’t want to be late twice in one morning.’
I went after him and we joined the rest of the villagers for the ominous assembly.
Chapter 2
MING
The villagers jabbered and gossiped even as the Cadre took the stage with three other senior Party officials from Long-chi. The stage was simply a spot of marked concrete under a basketball ring missing its net. The entire village of two hundred or so men, women and children, minus the bedridden, were crammed onto the court and the tiny amphitheatre beside it, spilling out onto the grass nearby. Another speaker towered over our heads, like the one outside the work hall; more were placed all around the village and even within earshot of the fields. Even though nobody had running water or electricity, there was a l
one generator that was used for official business and Party matters, and that included powering the speaker system. Through them, the village was blasted with Party announcements and declarations, and called to work or formal gatherings like this one.
The Cadre cleared his throat and held up a hand for silence but the villagers mostly ignored him. These speeches went on for too long and were too vague to hold everyone’s attention.
I noticed the unfamiliar men standing behind the Cadre and Party officials in their faded navy work uniforms. Two of them, both stern and glowering, were dressed in the same thick green army jackets. The third wore a long winter coat, lined with fur. His hair was slicked back. He stared out over the crowd, his waxed moustache twitching. He held himself erect and proud so he seemed much taller than the men beside him.
Tian shifted restlessly, smoking a cigarette, but I was getting more and more curious. We hardly ever got any news about what was happening in the rest of the country, and I’d only ever managed to get my hands on a few pages from newspapers, which I kept hidden away under my mattress. I cherished these articles and scraps of news because they offered glimpses into life beyond the village, something I could only imagine.
‘Comrades!’ The Cadre’s voice was high-pitched and sharp. Tian liked to snigger that he should be in the opera, playing a young girl with his lovely eunuch’s falsetto.
‘We have the honour to do a great service to our state and to further the great revolution of our Party.’ He puffed his chest and slammed his fist into his hand, probably to impress the officials, but the sweat beading on his head and his nasal voice didn’t help. Tian chortled and I bowed my head, trying to control my giggles, but I couldn’t keep my shoulders from shaking. The Cadre kept droning on, saying something about the glorious future of the Party, but neither of us could hear much over our own laughter.
The Cadre moved aside and the moustached official stepped forward. He was taller than the Cadre and softer, his face smooth and fleshy, not weather beaten like our village Party members. He raised a hand and I noticed his fingers were long, slim and smooth. Those hands worked at a desk, not out in the fields.
‘Comrades!’ His voice boomed, his accent crisp and clean, in harsh contrast to the sound of our local dialect. We fell silent straightaway. ‘Village comrades, soon you will have the chance – the opportunity – to answer your true calling. You will complete an important mission in the service of our glorious country and its people.’ He swept his arm through the air, his penetrating gaze scanning the crowd.
‘In the words of our great Chairman, “The people, and the people alone, are the motive force in the making of world history.”’
I knew the quote. Earlier in the year, we’d all been issued a copy of Quotations from Chairman Mao Zedong. As far as I knew, the book was gathering dust in most of the villagers’ homes. Maybe a few had been put to use, wedged under the leg of an uneven stool. More than a few villagers had probably looked at the crisp pages and considered using them as kindling. Probably even more texts would have met that very fate, if we hadn’t all been warned that the Cadre and Party could conduct random home inspections under the directive of searching for illicit or ‘counter-revolutionary’ materials. So we kept the books, if only for the sake of appearances.
But I thought the book would have important answers – the secrets to what made someone a good citizen, a good Communist, a good Chinaman. Yet, despite poring over the passages that I could decipher, I hadn’t unlocked any answers.
The official waited for a long beat, as if to emphasise his power and command, before lowering his arm to continue. ‘Our benevolent and beloved leader, the great Chairman Mao Zedong, has bestowed the most honourable task upon the men and women of the Guangdong province. You will be responsible for the enlightenment and re-education of our educated youth. They have fought valiantly for the victory of our party, our people and our revolution. And now they will take their final steps. My brothers and sisters, the great people of this village have been given the honour of carrying out this program.’
‘Your city comrades will be arriving in weeks and I expect the most humble and courteous welcome for your brothers. It will be your privilege to pass on the wisdom you have gathered in these fields, and the humility and great strength of character that is common to the people of China. Up to the mountains, down to the villages. They will be coming to the countryside to learn from you, comrades. You will be our pride and joy, the final teachers of the revolution embodying the very soul of the Communist Party!’
He raised his arm again. We were silent. Tian was worrying at his lip, his expression twisted as he tried to work out the tangle of phrases. The other villagers looked just as perplexed.
The Cadre brought his hands above his head and began to clap and nod vigorously. His fellow officers followed suit, softly at first but quickly picking up the pace after a sideways glance from the Cadre. Everyone put their hands together enthusiastically. Some people let out cheers and whistles.
Tian kept his hands by his sides, refusing to join the applause. ‘What’s he on about?’
But before I could answer, the Cadre raised his fist and started to chant, ‘Shangshan xiaxiang.’ Up to the mountains, down to the villages. The villagers repeated it with fervour, pumping their fists. Tian didn’t chant, but I shouted alongside my neighbours so as not to stick out or appear contrary.
The official nodded his approval and the Cadre saluted, relief obvious in his stance and gestures. He took the stage once again.
‘As we have lost an hour in the fields, your day’s work points will be adjusted accordingly.’ I was ahead for the month so I didn’t care, but I heard groans of dismay from the crowd – which the Cadre ignored. ‘Please report to your teams.’
And just like that, it was over. The visiting officials disappeared, flanked by the Cadre and the local Party members.
‘Jau mou gaau co. What was that all about?’ Tian cussed loudly. ‘What’s this up mountain, down village crap? More new slogans. I need my points!’
As we walked back to the work hall, I tried to explain to him that the village would be hosting a team of city youths, former Red Guards by the sounds of it. I’d heard a bit about the brazen Party youths who had taken control of the cities in the name of the Chairman’s Cultural Revolution. They were mostly university and high school students who had managed to overthrow the adult administration of their institutions. As a result, the city schools were shut down and now practically all the students had taken up the cause. They called themselves the Red Guards, and Mao Zedong had given them his endorsement, like an unofficial version of the People’s Liberation Army. From what I could tell, most of their ‘work’ for the Party involved chanting slogans, putting up posters and stirring up fervour against anyone deemed counter-revolutionary.
Last year, a couple of Red Guards had stopped into the village as part of a recruitment drive. They wore bright red arm bands with bright yellow letters proclaiming their Red Guard status over green uniforms that were tipped with red on the collars. The pair had spotted Tian and I walking through town. ‘Come join the glorious Army and further Chairman Mao’s great Cultural Revolution.’ They shoved a pile of pamphlets under our noses. They all featured the same few drawings of smiling youths, proudly showing off their red arm bands as they raised their red books high in the air.
As we studied the flyers trying to make out the words, the boys before us burst into song.
We are the Red Guards of Chairman Mao
Our red heart steeled in storms and waves
Armed with Mao Zedong Thought
We dare to storm mountains of swords and seas of flames.
They clapped their hands above their heads, like school children being led in morning songs. Tian and I exchanged looks and pocketed the pamphlets to use as kindling later.
Despite that first encounter with the Red Guards, I thought it was pretty exciting. It would be fun to have more people our age in the village, from the b
ig city no less, although I shared Tian’s view on needing work points.
Before long, we’d signed in, picked up our tools and were out in the fields. The sun was high above, beating our sweaty backs, and we settled in to work through the steaming day. It was mid-summer, which meant harvesting and drying the millet crops. The women crisscrossed the fields with baskets, plucking the ripe pods from their stems, while the men cut down the plants and bundled them up for hay.
By evening, we had all but forgotten about the odd group of city officials and their announcement. There was no more talk of Red Guards or chanting of Party slogans, just the end of another gruelling day.
At night, the rest of the villagers retired to their homes for a modest dinner. Tian and I shared a dormitory with two other boys, Wang and Cho. I had moved in with them after a couple of months living by myself. Having lost almost a third of the villagers to famine during the Three Years of Natural Disasters, the Cadre and the Party decided it would be easier if the orphan boys all shared a residence, so they had moved us into some of the empty houses in the main part of the village.
Wang was an orphan like us, while Cho’s parents left to work in the city, leaving him behind with his grandmother. When she died, they never came back for him, so he moved in with us.
Together, the four of us were our own little family, although Tian was the closest I had to a brother. He shared a small room with me while Wang and Cho slept in the other, and together we used the tiny front alcove for a common kitchen. Tian looked after me, trying to make sure I was involved in games and conversations with the other boys, because I was still so shy. If it weren’t for Tian, I’d have been truly alone.
That evening, I left the others playing cards and wandered down to the beach. I walked past our old mud house, but didn’t bother to go inside. It had taken me a while to get used to living with the others, so in the early years I had come back often. But now, I very rarely turned up the gravel pathway and only when I was feeling particularly lonely.
