Grotesque (38 page)

“Let’s get out of here. Let’s go and live in a house made of concrete, just the two of us. A house with plumbing and no need to haul water, a house with electric wiring throughout the walls, a bright warm house with a toilet and a bath. We could buy a television and a refrigerator, a washing machine too. It would be so much fun to live in a house like that with you!”

We’d run electricity through the cave about two years ago. I’d stolen some electric wires and rigged them up to the closest utility pole.

“I want to go, believe me I do. But we’ll have to save up the money.

Right now I’m broke.”

My sister looked at me like I was an idiot.

“What are you talking about? I’ll be an old lady by the time you’ve saved up the money! And if we wait, I’ve heard, the train fares will go up as well.”

I’d also heard the same rumor. They said train fares would be higher after the lunar New Year. That news made me want to leave all the sooner—certainly before the fares increased. But where was I going to find the funds to cover our travel? That’s when Mei-kun murmured, “If I agree to marry that man, he’ll have to bring me a gift of betrothal money, right? Why don’t we use that?”

What my sister proposed was preposterous, yet we could think of no other way to get out of town. Reluctantly, I agreed to abscond with the money.

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When Mei-kun’s suitor heard she had agreed to marry him, he was overjoyed.

He brought money over that he had been saving for several decades. All told it came to 500 yuan, more money than my entire family would make in a year. My father was delighted and stowed the money away in his chest. That’s where it was when my sister and I stole it. We fled from the village the day following New Year’s on the lunar calendar.

Careful not to be seen, we raced toward the bus stop on the outskirts of town just before dawn, eager to catch the first bus of the morning.

As early as it was, the bus was already packed. Others had heard the same story we had been told about the hike in train fares, and everyone was eager to get to the cities before the rates went up. My sister and I crammed ourselves and our heavy bags onto the bus, not to be deterred.

We would have to stand the whole way, a ride that would take more than two days. We’ve come this far, I encouraged my sister. Just hold out a bit more and we’ll be in Guangzhou, just as we’d dreamed. I smiled.

When the bus finally reached its last stop, a lonely country station, a snow-laced rain had begun to fall. Dog-tired, I peered out in the hope of finding a shelter from the rain, but saw something so shocking I grabbed my sister s hand tightly.

A large crowd of people was sitting on the rain-soaked ground in front of the train station. There had to be as many as a thousand people, mostly young men and women, and they were being pelted by the rain, their clothes saturated and heavy with the weight. Clinging to plastic bags filled with pots and clothes and other possessions, they waited patiently for the train. Since there were only two inns, I was certain they were already filled to capacity. I saw no stores. All I could see were waves of people waiting in front of the silent station. From among the raindrenched crowd, an occasional white puff of breath or steam drifted loosely skyward.

Our bus wasn’t the only one to arrive. After we got out, bus after bus pulled up, each just as full as the last. The people on the buses looked to be coming from villages even more remote than ours and equally as impoverished. The number of people in front of the station continued to grow. It was impossible for those newly arrived to get close to the station.

They pressed close to one another, and here and there little pushing 2 4 0

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matches and squabbles arose. The railway guards rushed around but there was little they could do.

We’d be lucky if we could get close enough to buy a ticket, I realized, let alone board the train. I was overwhelmed. We couldn’t very well go home, not after we’d stolen the engagement money. Even my strongwilled little sister must have been feeling discouraged, because she looked like she was going to cry.

“What are we going to do? At this rate it’ll be a week before we can even get on the train! And while we wait more people will come and the price will go up!”

“We’ll think of something.”

While I tried to comfort my sister I was recklessly pushing ahead, trying to ease the two of us into a group of people that was closer to the station.

People began to shout angrily. “We’re lined up here! Go back to the end of the line!” I glared in the direction of the voices. Among the group was one brute of a man who looked eager to start a fight. But my sister appealed to the man in a pathetic little voice. “Oh God, I feel so sick I think I’m going to die.”

With little choice, the man reluctantly moved aside about six inches. I planted a foot in the space and set our cooking pot there. When I finally had enough room to sit, I pulled my little sister down on my lap. She buried her face in my shoulder and collapsed against me like a rag. I suppose we looked to the rest of the world like a loving couple, doing their best to comfort each other. But in fact, both my sister and I were so agitated we were ready to fall apart at any minute. We were so nervous we could hardly think straight. Yet we had no choice but to wait for the train.

Glancing at the people around us, my sister murmured, “All the people here seem to have tickets already. We’ve got to get tickets too.”

The ticket window was already closed. I squeezed my sister’s shoulders to silence her. If we stayed pressed as tight as this, there’d be no need for either of us to have a ticket. Besides, I was determined not to lose my place, even if it cost my life. I was going to get on that train. If that meant I had to clamber over the heads of all these people, that is what I would do—of that I was certain.

We waited for six hours, and during that time the number of people only increased, each and every one of us heading to the city in search of work.

Finally we heard people begin to shout, “The train’s coming!” The 2 4 1

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farmers huddled in the station all began to scramble eagerly to their feet.

Terrified by the surging mass of people, the station attendants abandoned the checking of tickets. There were a handful of station guards on duty, but we didn’t let the fear of bullets stop us. We all pushed slowly toward the platform. Overwhelmed by the massive wall of people, fear flashed across the faces of the station guards. They knew they would not be able to stay the onslaught. The chocolate-colored train neared the platform and the crowds heaved forward before halting with a great sigh of disappointment. The windows of the train were fogged up so it was impossible to see inside, but people s feet and arms and belongings jutted out of the doors. The train was obviously already grossly overcrowded.

“If we don’t do something,” I told Mei-kun, “we’ll never get out of this station. No matter what happens, do not let go of my hand. Do you understand? We’re getting on that train.”

I gripped my sister’s hand, and we put our bundles up in front of our bodies. Then we pushed with all our might. I don’t know if it was because my cooking pot was jamming into his backbone, but the man in front of me glanced over his shoulder with a pained expression, lost his footing, and stumbled to the side. Gradually the wall of people gave way.

A number of people fell but I pushed ahead to the train without any apology, trampling bodies on my way.

Terrified of the stampede, the station guards and attendants had long since fled. Scarcely aware of their departure, we pushed recklessly ahead, climbing over people, being climbed on. It didn’t matter. Everyone there had but one thought in mind: Get on the train! We were all wild with determination, not caring what happened to anyone else.

“Zhezhong! Zhezhong!”

I heard my sister’s shrill scream. Someone had hold of her hair and was pulling her backward. If she fell, she’d be trampled and likely killed.

I dropped the bags I was carrying and rushed to her rescue, punching the face of the woman who had grabbed her hair until she let go. Blood began to spurt from the woman’s nose, but there was no one to care. It was insane.

I have no defense against anyone who might criticize my behavior at the time. I was in a situation that no one in Japan could possibly understand.

The spectacle of all these people fighting to board one hopelessly overcrowded train may seem ridiculous, but for us it was a matter of life and death.

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My sister and I managed to inch closer and closer to the train. But now I saw that there was a person in the nearest car waving a thick wooden rod and threatening to beat anyone who tried to push aboard.

He clipped the man in front of me on the side of the head with the rod and sent him toppling to the side. Just at that moment the wheels of the train began to turn. Frantic now, I lurched at the person wielding the stick and, with the help of a strong man at my side, managed to yank him off the train. Then, using the people who had fallen as a stepping stool, I succeeded in hoisting my sister and myself aboard. Any number of people tried to follow suit, desperate to scramble after us. But now I took up the position of the man with the stick and did what I could to push them away. When I think back on it now it gives me goose bumps. It really was like a scene from hell.

Even after the train pulled out of the station, my sister and I remained in a state of extreme agitation. Sweat pored down our faces as we turned to look at each other. My sisters hair was tangled and her face was bruised and streaked with mud. I’m sure I didn’t look much better. We said nothing—having no words to express our feelings—but I knew we were feeling the same way. We made it! We were lucky!

After a bit we regained our composure. We were once again crammed in with other people who were as heavily bundled as we, with no option but to stand in the aisles between the seats. We couldn’t sit down, much less stretch out. After half a day we would reach Chongqing. It would be two more days before we made it to Guangzhou. Neither of us had ever set foot outside our village, and here we were traveling by bus and train for the first time, heading for a place we’d never seen. Would we be able to endure the stress? I wondered. And what awaited us at our destination?

“I’m thirsty,” my sister whined as she leaned against my chest. We’d used up all our water and food on the bus. Afraid of losing our space at the station, we had not tried to get our hands on more. We’d had no choice but to board the train with no provisions. I ran my fingers over my sister’s tangled hair, smoothing it down as best I could.

“Put up with it.”

“I know. I just wonder if we’re going to have to stand like this the whole way.”

My sister glanced around. Among the other passengers standing in the aisle, some were drinking water or eating steamed bean-jam dump-2 4 3

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lings with one hand and holding on with the other without losing their balance. What really surprised us was a woman standing and cradling a baby in her arms. Chinese peasants are certainly sturdy.

A group of four girls who looked to be no more than sixteen or seventeen years old were standing together in one corner at the end of the aisle. They had clearly worked hard to look fashionable, tying their hair with red or pink ribbons. But one glance at the way their round cheeks were sunburned, and their hands swollen red with chilblains, and I could tell they were country girls used to the harsh conditions of fieldwork. My sister was so much prettier there was no comparison, I thought, and a wave of pride washed over me.

Every time the train swayed, the ugly girls shrieked coquettishly and grabbed hold of the men standing around them. My sister glared at them contemptuously. One of the girls pulled out ajar of Nescafe instant coffee that had long since been emptied of its original contents. She had filled it with steeped tea, which she now drank with a grandiose gesture, as if to taunt my sister. For us, foreign import goods like instant coffee were magnificent luxuries. We’d only seen empty jars of the product and then only at the houses of the village wealthy.

My sister gazed enviously at the tea. When she saw this, the girl turned her torture up a notch, pulling a tangerine out of her bag and peeling off the skin. It was only a small tangerine, but the sweet citrus smell suffused the train compartment. Oh, that scent! Just thinking of it brings tears to my eyes. That scent defined the difference between the haves and the have-nots, an unimaginably wide difference! A difference that is enough to drive a person crazy, disrupt his life. I don’t think you Japanese can ever really understand this feeling. And you are fortunate as a result.

The scent of the tangerine suddenly disappeared and was replaced by a horrible odor. The door to the toilet had opened. Everyone immediately turned their heads away and trained their eyes downward. This was because a yakuza type had emerged from the toilet. Most of the people on the train were dressed in soiled Mao suits. But this fellow was wearing a smart-looking gray suit jacket, a red turtleneck sweater, and baggy black trousers. He had a white scarf tied around his neck. His clothes were good quality. But his eyes glinted shiftlessly just like Gen-de’s had.

He was clearly a tough customer. When the toilet door opened I could see two other men inside, both dressed just like him, smoking cigarettes.

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use it,” the man standing alongside me muttered bitterly. He was a head shorter than I.

“Well, then what are we supposed to use?”

“The floor.”

I was shocked. But when I looked down at my feet I saw that the floor was already damp. I thought I’d smelled something foul when we got on the train. Now I knew what it was: human piss.

“What if you need to take a shit?”

“Well… .” The man laughed, revealing that he only had one tooth in the front of his mouth. “I have a plastic bag with me, so I’m going to use that.”