Learn from the Farmer, Soldier, and Factory Worker

Every semester from seventh grade onward, under Chairman Mao’s reforms, we had two to four weeks to either work at a farm, factory, or army base for learning. Like everyone else, I was always so excited, even though it was hard work, just to get away from home and to go to another town or city. I especially enjoyed going to the farm or to the army base.
     At the army base, usually one soldier would train us as soldiers. There were very strict rules. We practiced walking, hiking, running, shooting, and packing. It was tiring training all day long. We often had night drills too. We could not turn on the light but we had to pack everything we had in addition to getting dressed. That was chaos. Some people couldn’t find their shoes, put on the wrong person’s clothes, and packs fell apart on the road. Some days, our goal was to take over one hill from different directions. There were no trails and each group had to find the best, fastest way to the top. Since I used to play on the hills when I was with my cousins at my grandmother’s place, compared to most that grew up in the flat city, I was good at locating the best way up the hills. My group was one of the fastest to get to the top. Some girls cried but I enjoyed it a lot. I even get a chance to fire a few shots from a real rifle. My scores were not too bad.
     Another semester, we went to the farm to learn from a farmer because Chairman Mao said that it was a shame that most of us didn’t know where our food came from and misidentified grains as weeds. First, we had to overcome the bad manure smell. We couldn’t talk about it among ourselves or complain. The manure issue was very political. So we got used to it. We usually went to the farm in May corresponding to the largest harvest season for the year. The farmers wanted whomever they could get to help them harvest. We worked liked farmers. We were not as skillful, especially in cutting wheat. Almost every student in the class cut their fingers at least once. Despite that, we kept working after putting on a bandage, except after several cuts. Students were proud of themselves if they could work fast and do a good job, watching an acre of wheat cut down and laying in the field. I was amazed at some students when they worked. They sweated so much. Their whole faces were wet with sweat. I didn’t sweat like them even though I worked as hard as they did, but they looked like they worked harder than I did.
     One thing I could not do was to walk with bare feet in the rice paddy. I just could not even imagine putting my feet in without shoes in the farm. No way, I could not stand a grain of sand in my shoes. I could not think of putting my bare feet in mud filled up with manure. I would come up with whatever reason that day not to go. The good thing was none of our teachers thought I was not telling them truth. So I got away every time.
     Every now and then, I was fascinated by a new discovery. I found a bird nest in the wheat and we brought the nest home. We found a nest with small mice that hadn’t opened their eyes yet. Since we were told that mice ate the farmers’ wheat and the mice were bad; we threw them into the creeks. I felt bad to watch because the baby mice were so cute and helpless.
     Some student found a snake and the farmers told us horrible stories about snakes. On a winter morning in a farmhouse, the farmer was ready to get up and felt something heavy on top of the blanket. So he kicked it from below and an orange snake was thrown from the bed and slid away. I guess it was common for snakes to find their way to the farmer’s bed because the farmhouses were built with bricks of mud and a straw roof. The second night, worse was that the same snake got into their blanket and they felt something cold go swiftly by. I could not go to sleep when I thought about the possibilities. Every now and then, somebody would find a garter snake and chase it off.
     I did encounter a snake on the way home one late afternoon. I was carrying a field hoe on my shoulder because we had been turning over the soil. I saw a three to four foot long blackish gray snake by the creek that I was going to walk by. I was horrified and stopped right there. Oh, what was I going to do? Was it poisonous or not? Was there another way home? No. I had to go that way but I couldn’t. My feet didn’t move. I was thinking that if the snake attacked me then I could use my tool to strike it. But what if I missed? So, I waited. Maybe, it would go away. I waited without moving. A few minutes went by. I saw the snake go down by the stream and drink water. I had never seen a snake drink water before. It was quite interesting that he used the two sides of his 2-forked tongue alternatively to touch the water. Then, he swam across the creek and climbed up the bank and disappeared into the crop field on the other side. Then I started to walk back again.
     One afternoon, we tried to finish an individual field before dark. I don’t remember who initiated the idea that we compete, boys versus girls. Our rule was that if the boys won, the girls would wash the boys’ clothes for three days; if the girls won, the boys would not eat their dinner for three days (dinner was the best of the three meals). As usual back then, the boys didn’t pay any attention to us girls. We divided the field into two equal parts, then started. We worked at our best pace. The boys were too proud of themselves. The boys gave two teachers to the girls’ side. Very soon, it became obvious that they were going to lose. Then they started to blame each other slowing them down even further. So, the boys lost. But the boys didn’t want to keep the terms unless we tried a second time. So, we agreed. For the second time, we tied. Then, they wanted to try a third time. I said, “no, no way.” I knew that we would lose if we tried again. Average two, they still lost. Finally, we told them, we have a big heart. They were not real men because they had their dinner anyway.
     We did another thing between boys and girls on the way home from work or on Sundays. Boys liked to challenge girls to jump over some creeks. Those creeks were usually shallow for irrigation but wide. Most girls didn’t want to join the game. I was one of five girls who always joined the competition. I did fine jumping over all the creeks, while two others got themselves all wet.
     By the end of four weeks, we usually had a big feast. Then after dinner, we put on a performance for the local farmers. I used to sing solo. My voice was one of the two best in the class. The next day, we went home with lots of farm goods from the local farm market and gifts from the farmers. The farmers liked the free labor from us and they wished we could come every May.
     The factories were usually not far from us, by the edge of the city. We usually could walk or take a bus there. The fun part was getting the chance to stay in the factory’s dining hall for lunch instead of going home for lunch with our parents. Sometimes, we even went out for lunch with a few friends even though our purpose was to learn from the factory workers and the work there.

Another New School - Fighting With a Boy in Class

When I transferred to school in Chengdu where I was born, I had already lost my grandmother’s southern accent, but I picked up a northeastern accent in Nanchong where my mother was. My classmates in Chengdu made fun of it. One boy who sat next to me liked to pick on the scattered long light brown hair on my arms because none of other classmates had hair on their arms. I went home and checked my brother and my sister’s arms; their arms were just like mine. But my parents did not have any hair on their arms. So I used a scissors to trim them. Then my mom told me that the hair was my baby body hair. If I left it alone, it would disappear by itself. I started worrying and wore long sleeves in school. After a while, no one cared anymore. And my mom was right, when I grew older, the hair became less and scattered, you could hardly see them, only a few here and there.
      Soon, I was in 6th grade. We cleaned our classroom after school everyday; four students took turns to clean the classroom. Every Saturday, half of the classmates would bring everything from mops to basins from their home to clean the classroom more complete. The school didn’t have any cleaning supplies. One Saturday, it was my turn to bring in a basin to carry water from the bathroom to the classroom for washing the table and windows. My job that day was just to carry clean water into the classroom and dirty water back to the bathroom. I should have brought the basin for washing feet from my home but I brought the nicer one for washing our face. When a basin is old then it is downgraded to washing feet. Every family strictly separated basins for washing face and feet.
      When I brought the first basin of water, I announced to everyone that this basin of mine was for washing faces. Please don’t put your feet in it. No one said anything because I was not the first one to bring a face basin to school to avoid the embarrassment of the old rusty feet basin. But one boy his name was Wong Young (汪洋) which means “Ocean” challenged me. “What if I put my feet in?” He tried to test me since I was a new student with a funny accent. The rest of the students turned to watch what I would say. “I will pour this dirty water over you!” I replied. Everyone then turned to him. The boy was so ignorant that he simply said, “oh, yah!” and put one of his dirty feet in and out of my basin with his two hands resting on his waist. Then he proudly looked around to show everyone his strength. Yet, he still did not look at me like he was trying to prove something to them, not to me. I was so humiliated that I picked up the basin of water and poured it all over him from head to toe. I did this so fast that he and the rest of the students were in shock for a minute or two and just stood there. I had started to run to the girls’ room, but it was a good distance before I could reach it. He caught me right at the door of the girls’ room. He was trying to grab my basin to smash it and I was trying to get away from him and pushed the basin against him. It looked like the whole school was around the two of us.
      Girls do not fight; they argue with one another. Fighting with a boy was the first ever. The whole school knew my name Han Ying (韩英), a female head of a local army who could fire guns from both of her hands, from a famous old movie, now they saw me in action. We both went to the teacher’s office. The teacher asked me first what happened even though all the other students already told him what had happened. For some reason, I felt something stuck in my throat. I started to cry and could not speak. My teacher then turned to the boy and said, “you think you are a big man now and you could do anything you want—you got what you deserved.”

宋祖英 (for Han Ying) -Honghu Waters, Wave upon Wave (洪湖水啊浪打浪) 

      That night, my teacher gave my parents a surprise visit to explain the whole thing and told them the school was behind me. As usual, I did not even mention a word to my parents. My teacher usually visited every student’s home once per year, and parents went to school for parent-teacher conferences and our report cards twice per year.
      The fight and my grades soon caused the teacher and everyone to give me special notice. Soon, I blended in and forgot my eastern accent. I could even wear short sleeves and nobody seemed to care about the hair on my arms. I looked at them again; the hairs were so few scattered here and there; yes, long, but light. You had to really look to see them.
      I admired two popular girls in my class. One was the president of the class and the other was the leader for gym. They always dressed up in fashionable clothes and they had those thick, shiny black hair braids, nice and neat with a different style everyday. My hair was more on the brown and dull side, still short because I never learned how to braid my hair. People used to call me “黄毛丫头 yellow-haired girl” which meant that I was born without enough nutrients. Moreover, they stood in front of us, ordering the class to line-up and walk to the school playground. Sometimes, they used whistles.
      We had an after-school study group. Usually three or four persons got together to go to one person’s house to study and then play. I was chosen to be in the popular girls study group, not because I was anything above. I did not have nice clothes and my hair was “yellow” as they called it, not black and shiny. My grades were the only criteria that allowed me into their group. Unlike here in the U.S., grades were posted on the wall in China at the time, and we knew who was at the top and at the bottom of the class.
      Our class president’s home was my favorite place to visit. Her parents were in Chairman Mao’s Long March. They lived in enclosed areas where there were soldiers on guard all the time. She was the only child and they had 11 rooms. Most of our families had three rooms. Her parents looked very old and were in poor health. Later on her father died. We learned that she had an older sister who was married. Both of them were adopted. Her mother’s health was failing after her father’s death. Rumors said that her mother had a bad temper and often beat her up. I felt very sorry for her but I didn’t know how I could help. Soon after, her mother decided to move back to her hometown where she could get help from her relatives. The day before she moved away, I gave her my favorite boy star’s picture that all the girls loved. Mr. Yin, the storyteller in our yard, gave it to me and it was only thing I had over the girls in my class. Everyone loved it but could not get it anywhere in my city. She was surprised that I gave my favorite possession to her and that really moved her.
      We kept in touch after she moved away. Unfortunately, they had rare floods the same year when they moved to Henan (河南) Province (later I learned it was my parents’ ancestral place too). Henan is often referred to as Zhongyuan (中原 means central plains), which applies to China proper. It was regarded as the birthplace of Chinese civilization and has been its cultural, political, and economical center for over 2000 years. Four of the eight Great Ancient Capitals of China are located there.
      The Yellow River flooded the place when she and her mom just arrived. She wrote the most moving stories about how so many soldiers sacrificed their lives to save others. Still a lot of people died. A year later, her mother passed away. She joined the army and we lost contact.
      When I was in the seventh grade, the political movement in school was quite “in style.” One year in class, I was elected in charge of study and public relations. The principal of the school wanted all the students “red” both academically and politically. For me, my grades were always great since I started school. This was my first year on class duty. I had to attend a lot of political activities and sang in school and around the city. My mind was all on it. Then, my grades for the first time dropped to just passing. Classes and homework suddenly became difficult for me.
      When my parents received my report card, they were angry as expected because I always left home before them and came home after them. My mom started to check my homework every night. Besides my school homework, my mom gave me extra homework. I had to finish all of my homework including my mom’s before going to sleep. I was so tired that I could hardly keep my eyes open and my mind didn’t function when I was tired. My mom got frustrated too. She would pull my ears and pinch my face to wake me up. I went to bed crying every night. I felt as bad as my mom did. I was humiliated when my grades were bad. So I paid more attention during class and listened to what the teacher had to say. I cancelled activities that I did not have to attend. Very soon the next semester, my grades were back to normal.

Kellen Parker and Steve Hansen showed dialect differences in China in their "Phonemica 乡音苑 "

Our Pet Chicks

We had four baby chicks. Even though chickens were supposed to be for eggs and meat, my brother and I treated them like our pets. They were so small. When we first got them, I used to feel bad that they did not have their mother. I would put the four chicks on my chest while I lie down on my bed. I put some newspaper underneath them because they made a mess. Then I would use a towel to cover them up. In a few minutes, the four little chicks would fall to sleep. It was probably warm and comfortable just like under their mother’s wing. Since they were asleep, I could put my hands under the towel and touch them. I would pat them. They often responded to our touches too by using their beaks to gently touch our hands. They felt so safe there. Very soon they were too big for me but we had built a good relationship. We used to play with the chickens. We would take a mirror and put it in front of one of the chickens. The chicken would see itself in the mirror and think that it was a strange chicken there to challenge her. The chicken would start a fight instantly and jump up and down trying to get the image in the mirror. It was a fun game for us to watch.
     We also took our chickens outside of the courtyard for a walk after school. There were trees along the street and the chickens could find more worms in the soil around the trees, and it was more spacious for the chickens to run around outside there. Very soon it was their first birthday. We didn’t have any meat for them since we only ate meat once or twice a month. Our parents would not allow us to feed chickens with table meat. We found a dying sparrow. We took it home and it died quickly. We poured boiling water over it so that the feathers would come out easily. Then I cleaned the sparrow just like we cleaned killed chicken. It was fascinating for us that the sparrow had tiny parts of everything just like chickens. We could hardly believe our eyes. Then I cooked it and our chickens jumped so high for more. One little sparrow for four chickens is not much but we thought that it was “better than nothing.”
     Taking chickens out for a walk might have been a mistake because soon they knew the way out of the courtyard themselves. One day when we came home from school, one of the chickens was missing. We looked all over but could not find it. When my parents came home from work, all of us went out looking for it, asking people, but we couldn’t find the chicken. I was really upset and I often dreamed that the gray chicken came back but it never happened. I was sure that the chicken was on someone’s dinner table already.
     After that, the rest of the chickens began to lay eggs. It was lots of fun to watch our chickens lay eggs. It was amazing to watch those big eggs come out. We had two or three eggs every day so we didn’t have to buy any.
     Other neighbors sometimes bought a rooster a few days before they would kill it for dinner. Roosters are too noisy to keep in a courtyard. Even though for only a few days, we had fun with the rooster. The rooster would always chase after our chickens. At that time, we didn’t understand what was going on. We only saw the rooster trying to beat up our chickens. My brother and I always ran after the rooster and chased him away. My parents and others laughed.
     Then, the day came to kill the rooster. It was always a big event in the yard especially for the Liu (刘) family. Mr. Liu was a sloppy rooster killer. To butcher a rooster, the butcher used one hand to hold the rooster’s two wings and upper neck, then pulled off some feathers where the cut would be made, and squeezed the rooster’s neck so that its major veins were exposed. Then the butcher used a sharp knife to cut a hole about the size of a nickel, put down the knife, and held the rooster by one foot upside down, and another hand held the head to let the blood drain into a small bowl of salt water. It took only few minutes. The dead rooster was put into a big container over a pot of boiling water so that it was easy to pull out the feathers to clean inside. The stomach was also cleaned out for food. For a good rooster butcher, the whole process would last about 30 minutes.
     But for Mr. Liu (刘), to just kill the rooster would take him several hours. His wife would bug him an hour or two before the whole thing started. Then his wife would always shout at him again because he always ended up with a live, partly butchered rooster running around the yard bleeding. People joked about why he was so afraid of killing a chicken because he should not be afraid of death as a medical doctor. He said that he was a doctor only to save life; this was killing a life, not saving one.
     We had so much fun with our chickens for about two years. Then one day, one of the chickens became sick. We tried all kinds of ways to save her even by giving her medicine for humans since we didn’t have a veterinarian for chickens. The chicken died, followed by a second. The last chicken was fine for a few weeks until one morning when I was ready to go to school and I noticed that the chicken was still in her nest. So I checked her nest to see what had happened. She had just laid an egg. I waited for awhile hoping that she would get up to get her breakfast but she couldn’t get up. She was so weak. I carried the chicken out, calling my brother for help. My parents had already left for work. We did not know what to do. We were watching the chicken and we started crying, patting her, saying, “please don’t die.” Then our neighbor Mr. Han came and asked what was happening. He saw the chicken and said, “Oh, the chicken is dying. We have to kill her now before it is too late. Once a chicken is dead, you can’t eat it any more. You have to let her blood out now while she is still alive.” Quickly he took the chicken away. Soon he came back and said, “You kids still crying there. Your class started a long time ago.” We suddenly realized that we had to get to school.
      Later that day, my parents cooked the chicken. We were all very quiet. Usually when we ate dinner, our chickens were always around the table trying to get some table food and we all liked to give them some. We enjoyed watching them jump so high to try to get the food and fight over our food. Now they were all gone. Even though chicken was very expensive meat at that time, we could only eat chicken a few times a year. We had other kinds of meat such as pork and beef every other week. No one wanted to touch the cooked chicken on the table. Finally, we gave it away. Our chickens lived on in my dreams for a long time.

Growing Up in the Courtyard

We moved into the regular residential courtyard. It was a small courtyard with nine families and our parents all worked at the same institute. We shared one, only one, water faucet in the middle of the inside yard, and one bathroom behind the yard. The yard was paved except for around a crepe myrtle tree that flowered every year. We had a big gate to close the courtyard at night. We were about 12 kids in all in the yard. The other Han family, shared my father’s surname, the father also worked in the oil institute. He had two daughters, the older one’s name was just like mine, Han Ying (韩英), then changed to Han Ming because her mother’s surname was Ming. One boy’s surname Cheng (程) and I were the oldest.  Cheng was a Chinese muslim (Hui 回族), the only difference we could tell was they could not eat pork.  They got more coupons for beef and lambs from the government.
     Mr. Yin (殷) was very popular to all the kids in the yard. He often went on field trips far away to Tibetan regions, but whenever he was home, he always gathered us together to sit around in a circle in the yard. Then he would tell us a story. We, too, had to take turns, one by one, to tell him a story. My favorite stories were the Monkey King (Journey to the West) stories he told us; I still remember most of them. He often gave us some chores to do while we listened such as shelling peanuts or cleaning vegetables. Time flew and we always looked forward to the next time.
     One day, he came back from Shanghai and showed us a series of pictures of child movie stars. We were all impressed and we all wanted to be like them. I was especially interested in this boy who played in a movie called “ Shining Red Star.” He was so cute and all the girls loved him. Mr. Yin must have noticed that I had a crush on that star. Later on after all of us went home, Mr. Yin called me back and gave me that picture. I was so excited that I kept asking him, “Are you sure you want to give this to me.” The next day when I brought it to school, all the girls were excited and screaming.
     Our parents had to walk about 40 minutes to work so all of the older kids had to start cooking and cleaning after school. We had these bee nest-like coal stoves outside in the yard. There were 12 holes, 12 individual covers, and a bottom door for air. When the coal turns white, put a fresh bee nest on the top, use a flat stone or brick to push it down. There were two layers stacked already, so the botton one is crushed down. By the end of the day, cover the holes with an individual cover. Close the door underneath. Put a pot of cold water on the top. The next morning, the water is warm. Take out the covers and open the door underneath, take out the ash. The coal turns red again. The photo below has more than 12 holes.

Most of us kids were supposed to steam rice at 5:00 PM because the rice needed 45 minutes to one hour to cook. Then, our parents would come home and stir-fry vegetables and in a few minutes we could eat. However, we were kids and every now and then, one of us would forget to do one of the procedures for cooking. We sometimes forgot to open the stove’s 12 holes or to put water in the rice bowl or accidentally let all the water boil away and burned the rice, or even lost the house key. So every evening, you could hear one of the parents in the yard yelling at his or her kids.
     Grandmother Liu’s (刘) was taking care of her grandchildren in our yard. By watching her cooking, I gradually learned to cook more than just rice. I began to prepare the whole dinner before my parents came home. I also learned to wash not only my own clothes but also sheets and towels during vacation because it was impossible to wash those by hand with my parents and everybody else’s parents at home all sharing the same water faucet and the same line to dry the clothes. The water pressure was so low. We had to line up for water. I became a model for all the other kids. Other parents praised me since my parents had an extra hand inside and outside although I never heard my mom’s appreciation but only her complaints. She complained about almost everything to me. My father was mostly quiet.
     I never built up a good relationship with my mom then. I was happy when my parents were not home. I used to sing, sing, and sing; my brother and other kids would join me. The whole yard knew my voice. I would never sing in front of my parents. I was very quiet in front of them. I would say that there was hardly any communication between us. If they asked me a question, I would answer in the shortest possible way. Life did not change much after that. I tried to learn to do more everyday. The more I learned; those chores became my duty. I still got blamed for everything. I just couldn’t please my mom no matter what I tried. I used to cry a lot, mostly tears in my eyes when I was sad; I missed my grandma more and I wanted to go back to her.
     There were times such as when I forgot to take in the clothes or sheets drying on the clothesline at night. My mom would ask me to get up from bed to bring them in even though she hadn’t gone to bed yet. In a word, everything I volunteered to help with became my duty. One time when I washed dishes by the water faucet in the yard, some rice was stuck at the bottom of the pan. I dumped the rice in the big stone sink. My father was shocked that I would do such a thing and made me pick up every one of the rice grains by hand so our chicken could eat them. He shouted that many people in the world didn’t have anything to eat and went hungry. I had just wasted that rice down the drain. My father always threatened to send us to his hometown farm in the north to taste the hardship of life so that we could appreciate the sweetness of life in the city. Kids had to do farm work like adults and there were no good things to eat. They threatened us a lot, but we never went once to my father’s hometown.

Moving to My Father’s Place - Chengdu

In the late 1970’s, we moved to Chengdu to join my father. Again, I got lost on the way. We had to stay in Xunin (遂宁) overnight on the way to Chengdu by bus. My mom took my sister, brother, and me to check into a motel. Then we walked around the small town to find a place to eat. We made a circle back and ate in a restaurant just across the street from the motel where we stayed.
     After our meal, my sister needed to be changed and my mom asked me to go back to our motel room to get something. I thought that I knew the way back but I got lost. I just could not find the motel. I walked and walked; one block then another. I noticed the sky was getting dark. I was nervous. What was I going to do if I couldn’t find the way back? Tomorrow, the bus would go without me. I was scared so I started to ask around. The first person I asked was an old man because he seemed to be nice. I said, “could you tell me where the bus station is?” He pretended not to hear me. I asked again. He said, “Who are you talking to? I have a name; you know what you are supposed to call me, young lady.” I was upset and walked away.
     I learned my lesson. When I approached another person, I did change and asked, “Old grandfather, could you please tell me where is the bus station?”; when we say “old” (Lao), it is a sign of respect. Using the name “Grandfather” showed that I treated him with respect just like my own grandfather. This person nicely gave me directions. At the same time, my mom had already sent people out to look for me. I saw my best girlfriend Wei-lin’s father Liu (刘) who had walked around looking for me. He took me back to the motel. My mom, of course, blamed me since the motel was just across the street and I had told her that I knew the way back.
     Our family was temporarily placed in a complex courtyard that was going to be demolished to make room for the company’s hotel. People were gradually moving out. Since we arrived between school semesters, my brother and I had to wait for the next new semester to begin. My grandmother came to help us out. Since there was no institutional dining hall nearby, my grandmother cooked for us.
     For a few months, it was fun without school in the big courtyard. Quickly, my brother and I learned that when people move out, there were lots of valuable things left behind. So we started to collect anything that we could redeem for recycling in a store such as toothpaste tins, copper, and newspapers. We found a few pennies here and there and gave every penny to my mom. We enjoyed taking the junk to the store to sell. I felt proud that we could also contribute something to our family.
     In the short few months that we were there, we did get into some trouble. We would play with a few other kids outside of our courtyard. Everything was fine until one of the boys started to say bad words to me. Everybody else watched and laughed. I said, “You stop it or I will hit your dirty mouth.” He did not even pay attention to what I had said. He continued so I hit him on the face. Suddenly, his nose started to bleed and he cried and ran away. Everyone left. I went home as if nothing happened. Later the boy’s parents came to our doorstep with the boy and his bloody face. I was hiding inside. My father asked me to come out and apologize to the boy and his parents. They did not even ask anything. It seemed to be my entire fault. I tried to explain but my father gave me a spanking on my bottom to stop me. Later my grandmother told my father that he was too hard on me because I wet my pants when he spanked me.
     One afternoon, my brother and I played with a new chest that our parents just bought. We decided to climb into the chest to try to hide inside, but somehow we locked ourselves in and couldn’t get out. A few minutes of struggling to open the chest had no effect. We felt the air getting thinner and the inside felt hotter and hotter. We yelled out, “Grandma, help, help.” and we felt it was difficult to breathe. Finally, my grandma came and opened the chest for us. She was so upset and yelled at us, “you, short-lived ghosts, short-lived ghosts.”
     We did have some fun with the sand piles and bricks piled for later construction work. We played in the sand and made all kinds of things. The most enjoyable part was digging a big hole and covering it with a few twigs, leaves, and then sand making it invisible to other kids. Then we started a game of treasure hunt. It was so much fun just watching ourselves fall into the traps that we ourselves had built. We used the bricks to build our own private playhouse. We covered the top with newspapers. We used twigs as chopsticks, bottles, and covers, and stones as kitchenware. It was my dream house with my wild imagination. I dreamed that I could bring in the old blind man walking around our neighbourhood. He carried a wood stick on one hand, poking the ground, while the other hand carried bamboo basket full of little covers for the bee-nest stove. Rain or shine, summer or winter, he shouted with his dry and weak voice and wished people would come to buy those covers he made. I bought so many covers with the money that I earned from recycling old things. I wished that I could make him see or I could take care of him. Sometimes I even followed him to make sure he didn’t fall with his walking stick. But he did fine.
     Not long after, we got a mentally disturbed neighbor. He was temporarily there too. Even though he had two full time men there to watch him, one day a disaster struck. He came to our front door while my grandmother was cooking. It was summer and our front door was open. My brother, sister, and I were so scared and hid in the bedroom. We held our breath. There was no way out because our windows had bars (against theft). We prayed that he wouldn’t come in. I heard my grandmother offer him food to eat. Suddenly, we heard a crash. My grandmother called for help as the mad man stormed out. My grandmother lay on the floor with a broken hip. She was in pain for several weeks. Our doctor said that she had to sleep on a hard surface to let her hip set straight again with a cast and that made her feel even more miserable. She was complaining day and night because of the pain. I did not think we had any pain relief medicine at the time. That was the only time my grandmother complained about pain in my memory. She did not have any surgery. My mom blamed us for the sake of blame, and then I blamed myself too. In my mind, I replayed everything and I really did not know what to do but to go to confront the disturbed man myself so my grandma would not get hurt. I blamed myself, “chicken.” She did recovery after and was able to walk again, and she went back to her hometown.
     One steamy summer day kids in our yard decided to go swimming after our parents went back to work. I asked my mom about it and she said, “no” because no adults were with us. So shortly after she left for work, we started our walk to the swimming pool. It was so exciting. We went to the pool to which we were qualified to enter (I was allowed in 1-meter deep water) with our ID. Time just flew until we noticed the sky above us getting dark. “Oh, it is time to go home. Hurry. Hurry.” We had to walk 40 minutes to get home. It was getting dark. We had to go all the way downstream, across the bridge, and back toward home. I said, “let’s try to cross the river here to save time. The river doesn’t seem deep.” We could even see the bottom of the river. So we ran down to the riverbank and started to walk across. But the water got deeper and deeper. We held each other’s hands. The water seemed to be running faster and faster and it started to get difficult just to stand still. “No, there is no way we could cross this river. Let’s go back up and cross the bridge,” I said. I didn’t know what time it was when we got home but it was dark and late. Everyone was waiting for us in front of the door. We knew that we were going to get into big trouble immediately. I never saw my mother that upset in my whole life. She beat my brother and me with a bamboo stick so hard and we tried to run away from her but she kept chasing us. She was shouting and crying. I don’t remember my father there; he must have been out for business. After that, I seemed to have lost interest in swimming. I went to our physical education exercise class but I never went back to swim by myself or with friends.

Living with My Mom as the Oldest

When I was eight years old, my mom wanted me back home with her in the city of Nanchong (南充). It is located in northeast Sichuan Province and previously was the state of Ba before the Qin Dynasty in 314 BC. It has the second most populated area of Sichuan Province.  Petroleum products are the biggest industry there today. 

 

Nanchong (南充)

     My mom prepared the transfer with my aunt without letting my grandma know. My grandma was very upset since she thought I was only going to visit my mom. My father came to pick me up, but my grandmother wanted to take the train with me halfway to Chengdu where my father worked. Then my father and I would travel by bus for two more days to my mom’s working place. I wanted to see my mom and dad, brother and sister, since I hardly saw them during those years. However, for me to leave my grandmother’s home and go to live with them; it was just impossible. I didn’t want to go and I felt that my grandma and I couldn’t be separated.
     My grandmother combed and braided my hair the last time; she had combed and braided my hair everyday before I went to school. Both my grandmother and I cried as we walked to the long distance bus station. I held my grandmother’s wrist, not letting my father take me away. I cried for hours on the bus until I fell asleep.
     We had to stay in a motel overnight. I was used to sleeping on my grandmother’s bed at night but that night I slept beside my father. My father’s beard stubble and loud snoring mixed into my nightmare. I dreamed that there was a big buffalo running at me. I was running away but the buffalo was getting closer. Finally, I cried out. My father held me and comforted me by saying, “There is nothing there. Dad is here. Nothing could hurt you.” He held me with his face touching mine, his beard pinching my face, so I pushed him away.
     The next afternoon, we reached my mom’s city “Nanchong.” I was glad to meet my brother and sister. My sister was about two years old and my brother was six. I unpacked my things after dinner and showed my sister and brother what I had. Immediately, my sister wanted my new pretty lotion bottle that I just received from my father. I said, “No, this is my gift from father.” Then she was screaming and crying. My mother said, “Ying, give it to her; she won’t play long before she falls asleep.” Unhappily, I gave the bottle to her. “Crash,” I heard the sound of breaking glass and there was my bottle smashed on the floor. I was shocked for a minute and then I cried. Later, I learned that when she wanted something, she wanted it immediately otherwise she would throw whatever it was on the floor once she got it. I don’t remember how many milk bottles she broke. At that time, we only had glass bottles and it was difficult to buy replacements because of shortages of everything.
     My long hair became the next problem for my mother. When I stayed with my grandmother, she braided my hair every morning before I went to school. Now, my mom didn’t have time to braid my hair, so she decided to cut my hair. It was difficult for me in the new school already because I had an accent from my grandmother’s city. Now my hair was so short that I looked like a boy. My classmates laughed at me and I was hurt and I put all the blame on my mother. I thought that it was all her fault and I wanted to go back to my grandmother.
     The oil institute was like an almost self-sufficient world in itself. There was a wall enclosing everything with a big gate and a gatekeeper. There were office buildings, a dining hall, school, clinic, basketball court, etc. We really did not need to go out at all. The institute provided housing for everyone. Everyone knew each other so well that they knew what was going on in each other’s lives. In the morning, my mom sent my brother and sister to the babysitter who had grown-up kids. I walked to school by myself. We had four classes in the morning and then a lunch break for two to three hours depending upon whether it was winter or summer. I went home to get lunch from the dining hall and have lunch with my mom. Then my mom would take a short nap while I did my homework. Afterwards, I went back to school and my mother went back to work. We had two more classes in the afternoon. When school was over, we came home to do one or two hours of homework. After my homework, my chores were to dust all of the furniture and to sweep the floor. Then I played for awhile with other kids although sometimes I forgot to do my chores before my play. Between 6–6:30 PM, I, like most other friends, brought our bowls to the dining hall to get dinner for the family.
     On summer weekends, sometimes we went to watch movies at the basketball court at my mom’s institute. I enjoyed watching movies there. I prayed the weather would be good. Often the summer rains cut our movies short. One night was different. It was 1969. We were watching a movie when it suddenly stopped. A voice on the speaker said that our first H-bomb was successfully tested and that China would not be afraid of the United States any more. Everyone was happy and cheered and the movie became a midnight parade all the way downtown. Somehow, at that time, we always thought that the United States was going to invade China. Our teacher always told us that China was like a piece of fat bacon that every one else outside of China wanted. Everywhere in the country, tunnels were being constructed. We regularly practiced emergency drills in our classroom. Our tunnel was built at a tomb site. Boys in the class always found some bone fragments or rotten pieces of wood to scare girls in the class.
     I was one of the top students in class. There I met my life long girlfriend Yang (杨), it should have been Liu (刘) Wei-lin; she followed her mother’s surname. Her brother followed her father’s surname Liu. She was in my class. She studied hard and was good but if she received bad grades on a test or examination, her mother would beat her. She had bruises that she only showed me. That was common at that time. I heard even worse stories.
     Since my mom had to take care of three of us and had a full-time job too, suddenly I became an adult. My mom expected me to do too much while my grandmother never expected me do anything. I got blamed for whatever my brother or sister did. My mom always said, “You are the oldest. You are supposed to...” My mom didn’t beat us. She did send us outside the house a few times, never alone, always with my brother. One time, my brother or we broke something irreplaceable. My mom was very angry and said that she had enough of us and she would just die from our upsetting her. My brother and I sat in front of our doorstep in the dark—frightened and chilly from the evening wind. I hoped my mom would open the door soon. One time, our next door neighbor yelled at my mom and told her to let us in the house.
     I used to sleep with my grandma in her full bed. Now, I had a single bed for myself, and my youngest sister got to sleep with my mom. We didn’t have a bar on the bed to stop us from falling. So every now and then, “boom,” I fell from my bed. I did learn from that because when I was in college later, I was on the top of a bunk bed and there was no bar to stop us from falling either. I guess that was something we had to learn.
     My mom would not let me wear pretty clothes or hairpins. I loved her scarlet red velvet coats that she no longer wore. They were too small for her but she didn’t give them to me. My father got some pretty hairpins when he was on a business trip in the nation’s capital. My mom locked them up with the candy. I wanted them so much that I dreamed I wore them in my dreams. I even made one myself with a red plastic tube and a metal wire inside. It looked real from far away and my girlfriends were surprised. I was shocked though when I was older that my sister was allowed to wear them. I did not think the hairpins were pretty at all and wondered why I had liked them or wanted them so much. I guess I had grown out of them.
List of Chinese Dialects

Visiting My Father in Chengdu

My youngest aunt took me to my father’s workplace in Chengdu that summer when everything was slightly calmer, since my father stopped working in the oil institute’s dining hall. Unlike the Great Chinese Famine, he knew he was not going to be hungry working in the dining hall.  My uncle and aunt took me to a park. I was sitting on the front bar of the bike between the handlebars and the seat while my uncle pushed the bike and my aunt walked along. My uncle asked my aunt to join me on the bike by sitting on the back since she looked tired from walking. She did and we did not go far. Then for some reason, I turned back to see her, and one of my feet slipped into the bike’s wheel. They took me to the nearby hospital and my ankle was all swollen and I couldn’t walk for a few weeks.
     One day, my aunt carried me on her back to the hospital since I needed a check-up and to change the bandages. I noticed the wounded high school kids in the hospital, a lot of youngsters died during the Cultural Revolution. I guess I did not notice when I came the first time because of my own wound. On the way back, we were caught in a brief summer storm. My aunt was trying to run with me on her back to reach shelter. Instead, the police at the corner traffic tower let us in. The traffic tower is designed for one person to sit and direct the traffic light. So it had barely any place for us to stand. It was very kind of the traffic controller to let us in for those 15 minutes and I got a chance to watch him control all the light switches. That satisfied my long time curiosity about the traffic towers.

See more:

Mao's Bloody Revolution

CULTURAL REVOLUTION--ENEMIES AND HORRORS 
血色浪漫