Lenin's Kisses (39 page)

Sure enough, the deaf man raised his hand.

The blind man also raised his.

The paralyzed woman also raised hers.

Under the bright light that illuminated the room, a forest of hands were raised in the air.

Grandma Mao Zhi turned pale, as though all those hands were slapping her in the face. All the villagers—with the exception of her granddaughter Mothlet—were sitting there, their faces red with excitement, raising their hands so high that their sleeves rolled down their arms, revealing a forest of forearms.

The chill from the rain outside was oppressive, and the light from the ceiling shone down like fire.

On stage, everything was perfectly still—so much so that everyone’s breath became as coarse as a rope. Seeing that forest of arms, Grandma Mao Zhi felt her throat become dry, and she began to feel somewhat dizzy. She wanted to curse them all, but when she turned around and saw that even Mothlet, standing next to her, was raising her delicate hand, Mao Zhi felt as though she had been struck by something inside her chest—struck so hard that it tore her open. She could smell a foul, bloody odor emanating from inside her chest, and immediately had an urge to vomit up a mouthful of bloody phlegm and use it to scare that forest of naked arms back to their original positions. She coughed loudly, but didn’t pull up anything except that bloody odor. In the end, she simply cast her gaze over the villagers, and it eventually came to rest on the old deaf man, the paralyzed woman, and several forty-something-year-old wholers and semi-wholers. Then she snorted and asked them coldly,

“The children may not know about the Year of the Great Plunder
¹
and the construction of the terrace fields, but is it possible that even you have forgotten?”

She continued, “Have you also completely forgotten about how, during the Year of the Great Plunder, the entire village was in an uproar wanting to withdraw from society? Do you not have the slightest aurality?”
³

She added, “Withdrawing from society is a debt that I owe you, your parents, and your grandparents. It is a debt I will repay even if it kills me. If you do not wish to withdraw from society, you are welcome to rejoin it afterward. Entering society is as easy as going shopping, but withdrawing is as difficult as being reincarnated after death.”

As she was saying this, Mao Zhi’s voice began to grow hoarse, as though something had gotten lodged in her throat. Her words were forceful, but her pain and sorrow nevertheless came through loud and clear. When she finished speaking, Mothlet immediately pulled her hand down and peered at her grandmother’s face, as though she owed her something. But Mao Zhi didn’t look at her granddaughter, and neither did she look at the other villagers who immediately followed suit and lowered their hands.

Instead, she stood up and straightened her back like a tree that had been bent over by the wind. Grasping the wall, she hobbled slowly off the stage.

Grandma Mao Zhi walked out through the empty theater. Because she hadn’t brought her crutch, each time she took a step her stick-thin body lurched to the left and then pushed toward the right, and in this way she awkwardly propelled herself forward, making a concerted effort not to fall. She arduously traversed the auditorium, like an old sheep struggling to ford a river. Rising and falling as she moved forward, she exited the theater and stood alone outside in the rain.

C
HAPTER 3:
F
URTHER
R
EADING—
T
HE
Y
EAR OF THE
G
REAT
P
LUNDER

1)
The Year of the Great Plunder.
The Great Plunder is a historical term for what has also been referred to as the Iron Smelting Disaster.

After the Great Leap Forward, which began in the
wuxu
year, 1958, thoroughly swept through the Balou region like a tornado, the Great Iron Smelting Campaign resulted in all of the trees on the mountain being cut down and the fields being burned to the ground. As a result, the mountain range was left completely barren. By winter of the following year, everything was dry and without snow, and the next summer there was only a single drizzle, followed by a hundred-day drought. That autumn, however, it rained continuously, resulting in a historic locust plague. In Balou, locusts are called grasshoppers. These “grasshoppers” had flown in from outside the mountain, blanketing the sky and obscuring the sun. From miles away, you could hear the stormlike sound.

The sky was completely blanketed by the grasshoppers, and the bean fields were left barren.

The sesame fields were also left barren.

The golden blossoms of the rape plants disappeared.

By evening, after the grasshoppers had flown over, the sun was dark red. The dying grasshoppers covered the village streets like a red veil.

Mao Zhi was in the process of smelting steel when she gave birth to her daughter. Because her beautiful and whole-bodied daughter was born during the transition from autumn to winter, and since
ju
bloom in autumn and
mei
bloom in winter, Mao Zhi named her daughter Jumei, after the terms for chrysanthemums and plums. That evening, Mao Zhi walked out of the house carrying her daughter, and saw the grasshopper plague. She immediately put Jumei down and shouted into the village of Liven,

“There is an autumn tragedy, which means that next winter there won’t be enough to eat, and each family will have to economize. . . .”

“There is an autumn tragedy, which means we need to set aside food for the winter, to prepare for the possibility of a famine. . . .”

In the end, that is how things turned out, and a year of famine resulted.

Autumn was almost over, and winter was about to arrive. It was bitterly cold in the mountains, and even the water at the bottom of the wells was frozen solid. The new bark on the tung-oil and willow trees that had grown after the steel- and iron-smelting campaigns was also frozen solid. The villagers who went to the commune to shop at the market all hurried home and exclaimed, God! This has truly been an act of God. Not only are our wheat fields lying fallow, but wheat throughout the region beyond the Balou mountains has also failed to sprout. After another couple of weeks, a villager hurried back from the market, and as soon as he reentered the village he told everyone, with a look of terror on his face, This is disastrous! Even in the commune, no one has any grain to eat. They can only serve one meal a day, and they report that they are all starving. Some people have even stripped the elm trees of their bark and used it to make soup. Everyone is as pale as a ghost, and their legs are as swollen as ripe radishes.

Mao Zhi left her daughter at home and went down the mountain. She walked thirty-something
li
until she encountered a small procession carrying a corpse.

She asked, What disease did he die from?

They replied, He didn’t die from disease; he died from hunger.

When she saw another procession carrying a corpse, she again asked,

What did disease did he die from?

No disease; he starved to death.

She encountered yet another funeral procession. This time the corpse was not in a coffin, but rather was wrapped in a mat. She asked,

Did he starve to death as well?

No, he didn’t starve to death. He died of constipation.

What did he eat?

He ate dirt, and drank water soaked in the bark of an elm tree.

The people described the man’s death as coldly as they would that of a chicken, duck, ox, or dog. They evinced no trace of sorrow, as though the deceased were not a relative or neighbor from their own village. The children of the deceased followed the procession, but without tears, acting as though the deceased was not their parent. The weather was unusually frigid, and the wind cut like a knife. Mao Zhi continued on her way until she arrived at a small village where she noticed a cluster of new graves, like a clump of newly sprouted mushrooms. The graves were haphazardly arranged, and there were several dozen—or even several hundred—of them, each of which had several sheets of blank paper hanging from it, like white chrysanthemums and peonies.

Mao Zhi stood in front of the graves for a while, then turned around and hurried back to Liven before dark. Upon arriving at the first blind man’s house, she saw that his family was sitting around a fire eating noodles—white garlic-flavored noodles seasoned with grinding oil. She stood at their door and asked in a sharp voice, How dare you eat noodles? People throughout the land are starving to death, to the point that it is no more remarkable for a person to die of hunger than it would be for a chicken to do so. And yet, you still dare fill your bellies with noodles? When she arrived at the next house, she found that the family was not eating noodles, but when she saw their pot of corn soup, and that it was thick enough to hold a spoon erect, she poured a ladle of cold water into it and yelled, There is famine throughout the land, and people are starving to death like chickens. Don’t you know you need to ration? At the next household, the children were horsing around and eating oil buns. Before the rest of the buns were fully cooked, she took the griddle out of the fire and used a ladle of water to douse the flames. She shouted, Go outside and take a look. People are starving to death like dogs, yet your family dares to cook oil buns behind closed doors! She roared, Do you not want to live? Are you prepared to have your family starve to death next winter?

Mao Zhi reached the home of Crippled Bo at the back of the village. Although Crippled Bo’s family was sitting around a fire, they were merely having diluted noodle soup and buns made from a mixture of black and white grain. They had only a single bowl of pickled cabbage.

Mao Zhi stood in the doorway to their house.

Crippled Bo asked, What’s wrong?

Mao Zhi replied, Crippled Bo, there really is going to be a grain shortage. Throughout the land people are starving to death like dogs.

Crippled Bo pondered quietly for a moment, then suggested that every family dig a pit in front of the village, in which the family could bury one or two jugs of grain.

Mao Zhi convened a meeting and instructed each family to dig a pit and bury grain.

After they all did so, she established three rules for the village to follow. First, no family was permitted to eat noodles. Second, no family was permitted to eat baked oil buns. Third, no one was permitted to wake up in the middle of the night and fix a midnight snack. Mao Zhi wrote down these rules and distributed a copy to every household in the village, telling everyone to post them next to the family’s picture of the kitchen god. Furthermore, she established a local militia consisting of several young wholers in their twenties armed with guns, and told them to patrol the village day after day. Particularly before mealtimes, they would instruct each family to carry their bowls outside to eat, as they had in the past. No family was permitted to eat behind closed doors. If anyone disobeyed the first two rules the wholer militia would take the family’s noodles and oil buns and carry them to the entrance to the village, where they would permit the family with the thinnest gruel to eat the noodles and oil buns, while the first family had to drink the gruel.

One day followed the next, and after the twelfth month came the first month of the new lunar year. A major event took place in that first month. The commune’s Secretary Mai led several stout wholers to the village in a steel-wheeled horse cart. After saying a few words, they departed with two bundles of wheat from the village’s grain warehouse. Secretary Mai sought out Mao Zhi and requested that she come to the village entrance, where he asked her, Why is it that there isn’t a single new grave in your village’s graveyard?

Mao Zhi replied, Isn’t it a good thing that there aren’t any new graves?

He said, Yes, it is a good thing. How many meals do the villagers eat each day?

Mao Zhi replied, The same three meals as always.

The secretary said, People are enduring hellish conditions throughout the land, and only the village of Liven is enjoying a heavenly existence. It has already been half a year since the wheat harvest season ended, and now we are in the dead of winter, yet when we walked past your village we noticed a sweet fragrance of wheat coming from your fields. When we followed this fragrance, we discovered that in your warehouse there are several bins of undistributed wheat.

The secretary then exclaimed, My god! Throughout the land entire families are starving to death, yet you have more grain than you can eat.