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My Story
Childhood under the Red Flag
by Guangzhen Po Zhou
Daddy was on a Long-distance Trip
It was a leaf falling season of 1958. These days, Father was often on "long-distance trips." He came back home just once every one or two weeks, and sometimes even more than a month. Often, there was mud all over him when he came back, and he collapsed on the bed without even washing.
I liked to rearrange the long hair on his legs when he was on the bed, but never succeeded in putting it in good order.
Father was very handsome, and quite scholarly with a pair of glasses on his square face. He was very tall, and I was always worried that his head would hit the lintel of the door. He enjoyed holding me in his hands, and at that time I could reach the pendent lamp with my small hands. He was rather taciturn, and Mother said that he always sat reading books alone when they were visiting relatives.
I remember that on one autumn night when the wind was chilly, Father went on a "trip" again. My mother was in the hospital. In those days, we seldom had visitors, but that night quite a few people visited our home. That was something weird.
In the dim light, I saw these faces, some familiar but others not, coming and going. They discussed something with Grandma in whisper. They all looked very serious.
After all the visitors were gone, Grandma took me in front of her, and told me seriously, "Remember, when your mom returns home and asks about your father, tell her that your father is on a long-distance trip to a remote place, and won't be back until after a long time, will you?"
Grandma repeated that quest several times, and I just nodded without fully understanding why.
A few days later, Mother came back from the hospital with a small baby, that was my younger brother. I kept her company by sitting by her bed all day long.
Mother always asked Grandma about Father, "Mom, when do you think Jia-jia will come back? It's weird there's not even a letter."
One day, I couldn't hold myself back any more, and I whispered into her ear, "Daddy is on a long-distance trip. He has gone to a very, very faraway place. And he will never come back. "
Pa! Mother slapped me across my face and then a good beating. "Dare you say that again!"
It was not until more than one month after that Mother learned: on the very third morning after my brother's birth, Father was sent to a labor camp for political dissidents in the suburbs of Shanghai; on the early morning of the day when he was scheduled to be put on a "public accusation meeting, ,,1 he took his own life by throwing himself down into a well.
Mother cried against a wall for a long, long time after she knew the truth. Feeling that I was deeply wronged, I stood behind her back, saying, "I didn't cheat you, Morn. It's true that Daddy will never come back again. I told you the truth, but you wouldn't listen."
Mother paid no attention to me, and kept on weeping. At that time, my elder brother was seven; I was five; and my younger brother was just born.
From that time on, when every spring came, Mother always took my elder brother and me to a remote place, and kowtowed to a small un-engraved tombstone. Though we were caught up in drizzling rain every year, I was glad that we had the opportunity to visit the remote countryside by changing several buses. This kind of opportunity came just once a year.
Upon arriving there, Mother would place some home-baked cakes in front of the tombstone, and light a bunch of incense. "Jia...," Mother kowtowed while crying. And then she would let my brother and me kowtow.
"After you grow up, and begin to make money, you must buy a big tombstone with his name on it for your father. Will you remember?" Mother sobbed.
When I was little, I hated Ah Xing most, the girl who lived next door. She was several years older than I, and should know things better. But instead, she often jeered at us, "Where's your dad? I'm afraid he's in a wireless box."
I almost wanted to kill this small bitch. Although I didn't fully understand what she meant, I knew she didn't mean well.
It was not until I went to school that I began to come to know that under the tombstone, to which Mother took us to kowtow every year, lied a box whose size was like a radio, in which was Father's ash.
Misfortune Never Comes Singly
I first came across the phrase "misfortune never comes singly" in a letter from my uncle, my mother's brother (referred to as Uncle B in the following), wrote to Grandma. In fact, even before my father died, he was already sent to a labor camp in An?hui Province to be "reeducated." My another uncle, the husband of my aunt (referred to as Uncle H in the following), was categorized as a "Rightist," and was dismissed from his teaching position at Nanjing University.
Mother told me that Uncle B was persecuted because he had offended his superior, and that Uncle H's misfortune was caused by his being too outspoken. Uncle H was very proud, and always prided himself on the fact that he had five college degrees. Therefore, Mother always admonished us: "Later on, when you get a job, never offend your boss, nor talk too much."
Grandma also often said, "Don't expect too much, and don't confide too much .... Never harbor any intention to harm others, but never lose any vigilance against those who would harm."
Uncle B went to the countryside, and we three boys needed someone to look after us. So, Grandma moved in with us.
The house we lived in was rented from the company my father used to work for. It had two rooms. After Father died, a stout middle-aged man from the company, who was in charge of housing, visited us several times. "Your rent is overdue for several months already, and the rent is going up again. I think you had better give up one room," the man suggested.
So, we gave up one room, and squeezed the five of us into the other seventeen-square-meter room. In this room, the five of us lived together for more than twenty years.
It seemed to be a sheer mistake that my younger brother was born into this world. A fortune-teller told my mother, "This is a fierce 'dog,' (my brother was born in the year of dog) and is incompatible with his father." Some good-hearted neighbors advised my mother to give my younger brother away. One of them said, "I've found a wealthy family, and they have found a nanny already. The child will be better off if living in such a household."
"I can't afford to lose two family members at the same time," Mother declined.
Before long, my younger brother got milk tinea, which covered all of his small face, and even sealed his eyes. He wailed, and his tears trickled out from the cracks of the scars that covered his eyes. Mother peeled off the scars little by little with a pair of forceps, and then put on some ointment. Gradually, my brother recovered.
When my father was still alive, neither my grandma nor my mother worked. Now, however, they had to work to support the family, and they found a job of pasting paper boxes at home.
We used to call Grandma" outside Grandma. " (Note 1) However, she didn't allow us to continue to call her that after she moved in with us. "I don't like to be called 'outside grandma.' 'outside grandma' is an outside person, but I am living with you and supporting you now. Am I still an outside person? From now on, just call me 'grandma. '"
Grandma would have us to paste boxes with her, and she would tell us stories. She told us many, many beautiful stories, but it is a pity that I can't recall anyone of them now.
"Do not stop working while listening to a story. Also make sure that you make good boxes. I will be fined if we make any bad boxes." Grandma warned us beforehand.
She told stories tirelessly while pasting boxes. But, my eyelids seemed to be glued by the paste, and I could hardly keep my eyes open. I either tried in vain to glue the cover paper onto the box without putting any paste on the paper, or put paste on the paper again and again before gluing it onto the box.
"Don't doze off!" Grandma had to wake me up from time to time.
As time went on, Grandma's temper deteriorated. There was no more story, and she often accused me of working too slowly.
"I don't know what sins I committed in my former life so that I have to serve you three young gentlemen now. If I lived alone, I could be much better off. I just don't know why." She often murmured to herself audibly.
I began to hate her. So, when she scolded me, I retorted.
It was not until I knew things better that I realized why her temper became that bad.
I learned later that her husband, my maternal grandfather, was a high-ranking official in the Nationalist Party, and was imprisoned after the Communists took power. Grandma was a very capable woman. If she had not supported the family with my mother, we couldn't have lived to today!
Years later, both Grandma and Mother found regular jobs outside. And it was not until then I won my "right" to doze off.
They Took Suitcases from My Home
One day, Mother rummaged through the closets and suitcases, and put many clothes on the bed.
"These two suits, and this pair of shoes can be kept. The kids may need them when they grow up." Grandma said, while throwing a pair of leather shoes and some clothes back into a suitcase.
"This should stay, that should be kept. Which one can go?
They can buy new ones when they grow up, but we need money now!" Mother argued.
"These clothes aren't worth much money anyway," Grandma said.
Mother didn't respond. She gathered several clothes into a package, and went out.
Perhaps, it was because the line in the pawn shop was too long, or because of the fear of being seen by people who knew her, Mother always let my elder brother and me go to the pawn shop. The things we took to the pawn shop included a silk bedding sheet with dragons and phoenixes embroidered on it that was bought for my parents' wedding, and a beautiful silk Qipao (Note 2), which I had seen Mother wear only once.
I don't remember how many times we sold and bought back these items. I only remember what the old man with a pair of spectacles behind the counter said: "Remember to come back to redeem them before the twenty-fifth. The things will be gone after that date."
One day, when Grandma was not at home, Mother took two foot warmers and one slow-cooking pan, all made of copper, and went to a recycling station. I followed behind her.
"Woe! The warmers are from the North, and I've never seen this kind of pan before." The woman working at the recycling station said, while calculating on the abacus. "Eleven fifty."
"That's quite a lot, more than Mom's half a month's salary," I thought.
When we were leaving the recycling station, we heard the woman said to the others behind us, "Look at this bankrupt family. Though poor now, they still have these valuables!"
That night, Grandma complained against Mother, "The pan is made of red copper. You can't find it nowadays even if you wanted to buy it. How could you sell it without discussing with me first!" Grandma regretted about the red copper pan for quite a few years.
Once, two old men even came to my home to take things away!
Mother opened two suitcases to let them have a look. One of the old guys lifted the table a little, and then shook his head. After Mother talked to them for a while, they left some money, and moved the suitcases and the table outside onto a cart.
My elder brother and I watched them bind the things up with a rope, and were enraged. "Follow them.? They've taken our suitcases," I said under my breath to my brother. We secretly followed the cart, hiding ourselves behind trees or poles now and then, and were not discovered all the time.
This was a second-hand shop. They stuck labels of "twenty?-five yuan," "eighteen yuan," and "fifteen yuan" respectively on the table and the suitcases. We stood watching them from afar without knowing what to do. We didn't go back home until the? store was closed.
The third day I sneaked into the store again, only to find that only the suitcase priced for fifteen yuan was left. My heart ached at this, and I almost burst into tears.
At that moment, a young woman approached the suitcase. She softly patted the cover, and then opened it and examined it up and down for quite a while. When she was paying, I summoned my courage, went up and said, "This suitcase belongs to my family." Yet the sound coming out of my throat was hardly audible.
I didn't know whether she didn't hear me or she pretended that she didn't, and she took away the suitcase anyway. On returning home, I suffered for quite a few days.
"Golden Childhood"
"The title for today's essay is: Compare Your Childhood with Your Mother's. We have already learned from our textbook how your mothers spent their childhood--working as child-laborers in the textile mills or cigarette plants! Not enough to eat or to keep themselves warm. Just to think that there are still two-?thirds of the people in the world yet to be liberated. Just to think of our compatriots living in Taiwan, and the people in Asia, Africa, and Latin America, who are still suffering under the Capitalist system! ... " Teacher Cao spoke eloquently, and the whole classroom was silent.
I kept moving my feet on the ground. Winter just began, but I had already had bad chilblains. The chilblains I had on my hands the year before festered and left ugly scars.
Mother's childhood? I had never heard her talk about it. She was not from a "working-class" family, and her childhood seemed not too bad. But, I couldn't write that because it wouldn't meet the requirement. The prevalent value was the poorer your ancestors were, the more glorious you are.
"Teacher Cao, does your childhood ..?" one of the students asked.
Teacher Cao didn't reply, but continued, "Just now I talked about your mothers' childhood. Now let's talk about yours. You were born in the new China, and grow up under the red flag. How enviable you are! You are the flowers of the Motherland. Yours is the golden childhood. However, the happy life you are leading today is at the expense of the blood of thousands and hundreds of revolutionary martyrs ... "
I wasn't aware when the teacher stopped talking. My classmates had all plunged into writing. But, my fingers were so numb from the coldness that they refused to move. I rubbed my hands against each other, and then held the pencil with my palm. The pencil scribbled on the paper. Even I didn't know what I had written.
It started to rain outside. Raindrops patted on the window.
The rain made the early winter especially chilly. I instinctively wrapped the Mian-ao (Note 3). I was wearing closer around' my body. That Mian-ao was given to me by a woman. There were two holes on the elbow. But, I was very grateful; otherwise, my asthma would be more serious. When winter came, there was always a purring noise in my throat as I breathed.
The school day was almost over. Fathers, mothers, or grandparents of the students began to arrive with raincoats, umbrellas, and rubber-shoes, for their kids. There was only one broken umbrella in my family, and that was exclusively for my mother. Grandma always took shelter under the umbrella of others when it rained. I would rush home when the rain was lighter-?wait when the rain was heavy, and run when it abated. I was used to that. I rebound my cloth shoes with a rope. I didn't know for how long I had worn this pair of shoes. When Grandma just made them, they were too large for me. And she had to cram the front of the shoes with rags so that the shoes would fit my feet. Later, the rags were removed. And still later, there were holes on the soles, and Grandma let me to change the shoes between the two feet, left foot wearing the right shoe, and vice versa. Though my feet had to suffer a little, they sure lasted for a few months more. Now the shoes nearly came off, and had to be bound on my feet with ropes.
"Charge!" one classmate ran into the rain.
"Charge!" I tucked my school bag under my armpit, and also started to run.
All of a sudden, my left foot stepped on the rope on my right shoe, and I lost balance. I fell down on the ground, my chin hitting the cobble stone that paved the street. But, I got up, tucked the end of the rope into the shoe, and went on running.
On returning home, fearing the chilblains on my feet might fester, I poured some warm water into a tub and was going to wash my feet first.
Then I found that the blood from my chin, together with the rain drops on my face, was dripping into the tub. I felt some pain on my chin, and felt it with my hand. My hand was full of blood!
"Put on some oil, which will stop bleeding." Grandma said after she returned home. She found a bottle of oil, dipped her finger into the oil, and touched my chin with her finger. Sure enough, bleeding was stopped. However, the wound didn't heal until after a long time. There was a sharp pain whenever I touched it. It left a scar that has remained to date.
The Aroma at Deep Night
It was right after the Great Leap Forward in the country. The buses in the street were also "starved." Thanks to the shortage of gasoline, natural gas was substituted for it. On top of every bus, there was a big bag filled with natural gas.
At home, we seldom had rice on the table. At first, there were ration coupons for flour. Then, red potato became the main food. The prevalent "virtue" was not to eat to your heart's content.
To make things worse, both Mother and Grandma lost their jobs. The five of us just lived on "financial difficulty aid," that was twenty-five yuan every month. The application rule of that aid was summarized by the string of figures: "eight-five ?four-four-four." It meant that eight yuan for a family consisting of one person; plus five if a family consisted of two people; and additional four yuan for each person, excluding the two people, in a family of more than two.
Every evening, Grandma drove me into the bed immediately after I had one steam bread as supper. "Don't play around. You become hungry sooner when you play. More often you complain about hunger, the poorer the family becomes." Grandma told us, "From now on, you are not allowed to say hungry."
I lied on the bed, my stomach grumbling. "stop grumbling!"
I pressed my stomach with my hands. I couldn't' fall asleep, so I covered myself with the quilt, leaving a small hole so that I could eavesdrop the conversation between Grandma and Mother.
They were discussing how to sustain the family.
"Two meals a day, with a brunch at ten in the morning, and supper at five ... "
"Punch a hole in the partition that separates the kitchen and the bathroom, install the light in the hole so that both sides can share one light. Lower the lamp in this room, and change the bulb to a smaller one. The kids can do their homework directly under the lamp ... "
"Beg, pick trash, take the kids to the Mayor's office. If he refuses to give you a job, sit in his office all the day, just to see what he can do. These people are not afraid of those who are rude, but those who are poor."
" "
Grandma and Mother had a quarrel.
"The kids are starving to death. But, you still want vanity. How to endure a life like this!"
My younger brother had been suffering from rickets. He was already three or four years old, but still couldn't walk. I was still having constant asthma attacks. Mother got serious anemia.
"Go to buy two-jiao (Note 4) pork liver, and five-fen pickled cabbage. Don't let others see you when you are buying the pork liver, and put it under the pickled cabbage." I didn't know where Grandma got the money.
"Make sure that nobody sees you buying the pork liver; otherwise, our financial aid would be canceled." Grandma warned me repeatedly.
"My mother is sick. I want two-jiao pork live." The day hardly broke when I went to a wholesale food market to buy pork liver, where I had fewer chances of running into neighbors. The saleswoman was very helpful. She let me have pickled cabbage before buying pork liver.
At deep night, Grandma cooked the liver behind the closed kitchen door. There came footsteps on the stairs, and Grandma rushed to switch off the light.
"Who's cooking? It smells good!"
It was Lao Wei, who lived on the third floor, returned from work.
The Secret under the Bed
Ever since Father died, no one had bought toys for me. The bamboo stick, which was as tall as my shoulder, standing behind the door, was all the toys that I had~ Sometimes, I regarded it as a horse, and rode it around the room; sometimes, I used it as a gun, and "killed" a few rascals and more; and sometimes, I flourished it around myself as my magic stick like the Monkey (Note 5), and the demons dared not to approach me.
When I was tired of the bamboo stick; I would look for some waste paper to fold it into human beings. I could also made horses, planes, cannons, tanks, and warships with it. In day time, when both Grandma and Mom were out, I would divide the paper army into two, and let them fight on the table, over the bed, and across the floor. My younger brother was my loyal spectator.
Oops! One division commander fell into the fissure between the bed and the wall. Got to rescue him! I removed the quilt and the other objects from the bed, lifted the wooden bed frame that was strung with crisscross coir ropes, and propped it up with the bamboo stick.
There were so many things under the bed: two wooden barrels with iron sheet, two wooden boxes, one big wooden tub, and one bamboo container! I crawled beneath the bed, and totally forgot my division commander that needed to be rescued. Inside one of the wooden barrels were glass bottles of different sizes. Some of them contained cosmetic stuff, and others had medicine inside. There was some coffee that was humidified into hard pieces. I heard Grandma say that coffee could get rid of the fat in human stomach. I didn't have any fat in my stomach, so I didn't need coffee anyway. Inside the other barrel, there were some brand new toys: spades, buckets, a saw, and etc. In fact, I knew the existence of these toys, and I had once asked Grandma for them. But, Grandma said that these toys were to be given to others as gifts. "We always borrowed money from the Zhang's. Later on, when the daughter of the Zhang's has a kid, we can give them the toys as presents." Grandma said, "We even don't have enough to eat, how can we afford to play with these toys."
Inside the two wooden boxes were books, paintings, and works of calligraphy. The wooden tub was placed upside down. I lifted it, and saw many books. One of the books was written by Father. there were dates in it. And I even saw my own name: there were eleven of them just on one single page! How I wished that I could read these words so that I could know what Father had written about me. The "book" was unfinished because there were blank pages in the back.
The bamboo container was full of electrical appliances that had been taken off from our old house: sockets, switches, cords and so on. "Look at this bankrupt family. Though poor now, they still have these valuables!" What the woman at the recycling station said occurred to me.
I took out a screwdriver and a pair of pliers, and got down to taking off anything that was made of copper from these appliances. When I finished, the copper items piled up into a small heap in front of me. I put everything back into the original places, and hurried to the recycling station with the copper items.
"Eight jiao and five fen," the woman figured out on the abacus.
I could buy five-jin (note 6) rice with that amount of money, which was enough for the whole family to last for one day!
"Don't tell Mom!" I warned my younger brother, who was always obedient to me.
Darkness fell. Again, it was time for supper. Mother was waiting for Mrs. Zhang, who lived across from us, to come back in order to borrow money from her.
"I had some money, Mom." "Where did you get it?"
"I sold some useless things to the recycling station." I was a little panicked when I thought of the electrical appliances I had dissembled.
Mother was quite sure that I wouldn't do anything outrageous to get that money, so she didn't pursue her questioning.
Instead, she grabbed the money, and rushed toward the grocery store.
Mother never returned any money she took from me. However, I still asked her when we were having supper: "Mom, when are you going to return the money to me?"
"You made some great contribution today; therefore, I'm going to reward you with a scrambled egg in a few days."
Mother had already owed me three scrambled eggs. She never kept her promise. Though, I would like very much to taste a scrambled egg, I was happy to have shared Mother's difficulty.
Little Housekeeper
Mother's anemia became increasingly serious. She lost a lot of weight, and often felt dizzy. She collapsed on the bed as soon as she returned home from work.
"Little housekeeper, go to buy some rice."
Gradually, I, the little housekeeper, began to take care of most of the housework.
Our diet was very simple. Breakfast: rice with water. Lunch: rice with one-jiao dregs of fat, or noodle with picked vegetables. Supper: red potato, or steam bread, or whatever was available.
One early summer morning, I woke up, rubbing my eyes, and then picked up a small bamboo basket, and went to the food market in wooden slippers.
People, male and female, old and young, same facial expressions, and same clothing styles, were all going in the same direction. In order to get green soybean or Chinese cabbage, one had to get up early to stand in the long line. Clatters of wooden slippers echoed in the cobbled streets. The food market was already crowded with people.
"Just put this in your ear, and no insects, or lizards, or snakes, ever dare to approach you. Look, how sharp the teeth of the snake are," the man who was selling snake drug pulled open the snake's mouth. "it just won't bite me. Medicine made of this snake can cure all kinds of diseases ... "
"Can it cure anemia?" I squeezed into the crowd, and asked. "You bet!"
"Give me one piece." I pulled out a one-jiao note, smoothed it out, and gave it to him.
"Security guard is coming!" Somebody shouted. I glanced around. And just in a second, the man selling the snake drug disappeared.
I held the drug tight in my hand, and excitedly hurried home.
"Who allowed you to buy this? This is not the first time that you bought things without approval!" Grandma reprimanded me.
"You were supposed to buy vegetables and noodle. Where are they?! Waste money on this kind of trash!" Mother also scolded. without noodle, we had to eat rice at noon. And there would be no rice left for supper.
I hated buying rice most. I had to go to buy rice every two or three days, and only five or ten jin was bought each time. Today, there was no money for rice. Mother's face looked awful.
I found out all the homework books, and tore off all the pages that had been written on. I crammed the paper into the . waste basket, and went to the recycling station.
"One jiao and seven fen."
That was just enough to buy one jin of rice. I rushed back home, took the Food Ration ID, food coupon, and the rice bag, and hurried to the grocery store.
But, the grocery store was just closed! I stood in front of it, not knowing what to do. If only I had taken the Food Ration ID and the rice bag with me when I went to the recycling station!
It was usually me who got the stove ready for cooking before Mother and Grandma came back home. I lit some paper, inserted it into the stove, and put in some firewood. When the firewood was on fire, I put some egg-shaped briquette on top of it. The thick smoke emanated from the stove made me cough and shed tears.
It was Grandma who was most resourceful. She got some flour, mixed it with water, and cooked these flour slumps in boiled water. Each of us had one small bowl of four slumps, and then went to the bed.
Lying under the quilt, thinking of my good intention of buying the snake drug in the morning, I felt deeply wronged. Tears trickled down on my face. "I have done so much for the family, but instead of being appreciative, you both scolded me. The saying is right that the more you do, the more mistakes you make, and the safest way to avoid mistakes is to do nothing. Starting from tomorrow, I'm going to quit from doing any housework. If worst comes to the worst, I will commit suicide. Then, you might regret ..."
A Mop Made of Ties
In the fall of 1966, many Red Guards (note 7) from Beijing appeared in the street. They wore military uniforms and with red bands on their arms. Along the streets, there appeared many big-character posters (note 8).
The centuries-old Buddhist temple in Jin-an District, with all its sculptures and scriptures, were burned in flame.
Many "parasites"--former business owners--were singled out, their belongings confiscated.
The apartment of a former landlady, which was located in the building across the street, was searched. They found bankbooks hidden inside the picture frames, and gold pieces in the flushing toilet.
I overheard Grandma told Mother, "Every home is going to be searched. They even remove the ceilings and the floor¡"
Under the influence of the time, I also began to do away with the "four olds"--old ideas, old culture, old customs, and old habits. I poured all the contents of the drawers on the floor.
The poker cards had Kings and Queens--feudalism. Throw away!
The pictures in most of the postal stamps were about feudalism, bourgeoisie, or revisionism (note 9). Discard!
School textbooks advocated the revisionist educational ideas. Do away with them!
I didn't know when it was deep night, I was awakened by Mother. "Put on your clothes. Take apart these shoes, and discard them with the trash." Mother told me.
Mother handed me a bunch of leather shoes. Some of them were for men, others for women. Some looked very strange, with their thin and high heels. I had only seen them in the movies. Mother had also worn them before.
While I was cutting these shoes with a pair of big scissors, I glanced at Mother from the corner of my eyes.
When I picked up the trash can to get rid of the trash, I saw a lot of torn letters. "Why don't we sell these waste paper to the recycling station?"
"Just do it. Don't ask any questions."
When I was outside the door, I fumbled inside the trash can.
Underneath the waste paper, there were jade products, seals and ma-jiang that were made of elephant tusks, and some other things.
The next morning, I found the mop behind the door had "grown" big. Because we were in constant shortage of rags, the mop in our home was usually very "skinny." But today, it looked different. I picked it up, only to find that it was fortified with a lot of new ties! I counted them. There were twenty seven. I remembered Grandma had said that these ties were to be used by us kids when we grew up.
There were also many wooden sticks, which used to be used to roll up the Chinese paintings. Perhaps, Grandma wanted to keep them to make small benches with. I heard that my late Grandfather was steeped in Chinese painting and calligraphy.
I crawled under the bed to have a look. Gone were so many books. We didn't have too many things in our home before that. Now, even less.
Every night, alert to any sound outside, all of us waited nervously for the Red Guards to storm our home.
Rap! Rap! Rap! There were knocks on the door!
The bowl in Mother's hands fell onto the ground, and broke. The ten pairs of eyes gazed at the door. No one went to open it.
"Read the electricity meter!" A voice shouted outside the door.
I Want to Kill
I was most sympathetic with my younger brother. In day time, Mother and Grandma went to work, my elder-brother and I went to school, and my younger brother was locked inside apartment room alone. Whenever I locked the door before going to school, he would begin to wail. "Please don't go! Please don't go!" Usually, I just stood quietly outside, waiting until he quieted down. Sometimes, I would reopen the door to comfort him. When I came back from school, I often found him asleep on the window sill. Vehicles and pedestrians in the streets were an endless matinee for him.
Due to the lack of nutrition, and long-time confinement indoors, which kept him from receiving sufficient vitamin D, my younger brother had rickets. He couldn't walk until he was five.
Yet, another trouble came with his ability to walk --his playmates would open the door to release him (we later left the door unlocked because of fear of fire, and the door could be opened from outside) .
"I'll ask my brother to punish you!" He would say whenever he was intimidated or beaten by some other kids. He knew that I loved him, and would help him.
"Where's your daddy? He's gone into the well to swim, I'm afraid." Some of the kids would say. Hearing that, Mother would become so angry that she trembled allover.
"Don't play outside anymore. Why should you invite humiliation? Come back home when they start to make trouble. Stay away from them ... " Mother cried, while scolding us. She was used to bearing humiliation without fighting back.
When I returned from school, I often came across a small gang of kids headed by one nicknamed "Chicken Nose." "Chicken Nose" always took the lead in attacking me, calling me names, and threatening me with a twig.
"His father was an anti-revolutionary. Don't let him pass." "Don't you ever touch a hair on my body. I'll beat you to
death if you touch me."
"Don't touch me." "Don't touch me."
They surrounded me. I kept silent.
Somebody hit my head from behind. Then, fists landed on me like rain drops.
"What are you doing? Why do you hit him like this?" One young woman passed by, and stopped them. They went away in "triumph." The woman helped me up from the ground.
"Go home. How pathetic he is! This fatherless kid."
"I don't want pity," I shouted in my heart. I hate! From tomorrow on, I'll take a knife with me. "Chicken Nose": I'll kill you!
The next day, I took a fruit knife with me. On my way home, I kept myself from being seen by them. I didn't use my knife at all, just kept myself away from them. The gang didn't disperse until darkness fell. When I reached home, it was completely dark.
"Where have you been? Why didn't you come straight home after school?" Grandma nagged at me.
I made no reply.
At night, I often examined the bruises under the quilt. I couldn't even distinguish which were caused by "Chicken Nose's" kicks, which were left from Mother's beating. Tears wetted my pillow. I covered my head with the quilt, thinking of killing and revenge again¡
In my dream, I seemed to have grown up into a strong man. I became an army officer, followed by body-guards. "Chicken Nose" carne up to ingratiate me. I looked down upon him contemptuously¡
A "Hero" with Poor Health
Frequently humiliated, I imagined that one day I would become a respectful hero. Nevertheless, the gap between fantasy and reality was immense. In the vicious cycle of poverty and poor health, my hospital record thickened.
During these increasingly difficult days, Grandma inquired about "secret recipes" to cure my disease wherever possible. This was a less costly way.
One recipe was to swallow one chicken gallbladder everyday.
Therefore, Mother went to the food market, where chickens were slaughtered daily, every morning to ask for chicken gallbladder.
Another recipe was to eat the ashes which came from burning the goose windpipe on the tile. "Asthma was due to poor windpipe. See how long the goose windpipe is." Mrs. Zhang of next door came to our home with a bunch of goose windpipes. "How pathetic the child is. Last night, he must have suffered another attack of asthma. I heard it even next door."
"Eat more pork lungs, which are beneficial to human lungs, too." Mrs. Wang suggested.
Grandma learned still one more recipe: cut open a toad's stomach, empty all the stuff inside, stick in an egg, sealed with mud, and then bake it on the oven. Toads were poisonous. This was to attack poison with poison. Many people were cured by this recipe.
"Look, Qun-li herb drug store." Mr. Zhang came to our home excitedly with a newspaper in one of his hands, pointing a section in the paper with the other. "Even some cancer patients, who were condemned as cureless by those bourgeois medical authorities, were cured." He put down his reading glasses, and continued, saliva splashing, "That drug store is highly ranked within the whole nation. You must take your son there."
Herb medicine, acupuncture, barefoot doctor (note 10)¡ These years, the medical world was also quite trendy. After several years, my physical condition deteriorated.
It had been several days again since I had a nice sleep. I looked up at Mother beseechingly. At last, Mother managed to borrow five yuan.
"Hurry up! Hurry up! Send him to the emergency. How come you bring him so late!" A nurse shouted noisily when she saw me.
"Oxygen." A doctor said.
I suffered another attack of severe cough when Mother went to fill the prescription. When she came back to me, she looked very embarrassed, the prescription sheet still in her hand.
"Let me look," I struggled to utter these words.
I saw on the prescription that the amount due was fifteen yuan, and Mother had only five.
"L ... et u ... s go!" I gasped.
There was no way for Mother to object. So, when the nurses weren't around, she pulled off the oxygen tube from me, and helped me up. Slowly, we walked out of the hospital.
From our looks, Grandma guessed what must have happened.
"Let's forget the hospital, and try herb medicine," she said.
Grandma was especially generous today. She prepared a steamed egg for me (under the egg, she had hidden some earthworms which she learned as another recipe). But, I saw Mother pull the earthworm out.
She talked to Grandma aside and whispered, "The earthworms are not eatable, and I heard they would ruin the kid's reproductive ability."
"It's more important to save his life now than caring about his future."
"I. .. don't want it," I felt an attack of nausea.
Sitting on the bed with legs crossed, I shook myself with great effort. If excessive phlegm remained in the lung, it would block the trachea, and incur suffocation. Now and then, I would kneel on the edge of the bed, propping up my body with my arms, and keep myself in an upside down position. That way, the secretion in my trachea could flow out from my throat.
At those moments, I often felt I was in a terrible nightmare. I hit my chest hard with my own fists, wanting to awaken myself.
There's an End to Every Party
The "Great Cultural Revolution," that had turned the whole country upside down, entered its last phase. However, "class struggle" was far from ended.
It was not until one of my cousins visited Shanghai that we knew that truth of Uncle H's death five years before--he committed suicide by hanging himself after he was publicly humiliated. I remembered my Aunt's short note we received after the incident. The note only said that Uncle H died of disease in emergency.
"Telegram for Lin on the second floor," the postman shouted downstairs.
Grandma grabbed a seal, and hurried downstairs. She came back with a pale face, handing the telegram to Mother.
The telegram was sent by a certain railroad police bureau.
The message was short: "Lin Xiang (Uncle B) committed suicide by lying on the railroad tracks in XYZ (the name of a place) on March 25. This is to notify the family members to come to identify the body."
Somehow, Uncle B's death was not so surprising. I once secretly read one of his letters to Grandma, in which he revealed his intention of escaping to Hong Kong or Macaw. He wrote, "I was only a little over twenty when I was sent to this labor camp. We were promised that we would return to Shanghai in two years. But now, it has been sixteen years¡ Mom, please don't feel too sorry about me. 'There's an end to every party'!"
Uncle B was also dead. After Father, Uncle H, this was the third man in our family who committed suicide!
Epilogue
I don't know when we three brothers had grown into men of the same height--1.75 meters. However, the memories of my childhood haven't gone with the elapsed years...
----------------------------------- (The End) -----------------------------------
The Chinese version was published on "the International Daily News", Los Angeles, California August 19-25th, 1992, and translated into English by George Yang
- In the Chinese language, relatives on the mother's side are called differently from those on the father's side. Maternal grandmother is called "outside grandma" when translated literally.
- A kind of full length dress for "new" Chinese women, which became in vogue earlier this century.
- Heavy coat padded with cotton, a kind of traditional Chinese clothing for winter.
- Chinese monetary unit. There are ten jiaos in a yuan, and ten fens in a jiao.
- The famous legendary protagonist in the traditional Chinese novel The Journey to the West.
- Traditional Chinese unit of weight, equivalent to 1.1 lb. approximately.
- There were numerous organizations of Red Guards in the "Great Cultural Revolution." These Red Guards were mostly innocent young college, or high school students, who were made crazy by the crazy age.
- An important form of mass media in the Cultural Revolution. They were used to attack the enemies of the Proletariats.
- Refer to the former Soviet Union.
- During the years of the Cultural Revolution, in order to make up for the severe shortage of medical professionals in the countryside, some farmers were trained in short-termed, intensified programs to provide medical care for the local people. They were called "barefoot doctors" because they also worked in the fields. Later on, the term was applied to anyone who went through such a program, not necessarily farmers.
Postscript
"Childhood under the Red Flag" is a true story of my life, which I wrote in the late 1980's to early 1990's with three sections. The first is my childhood; the second section is my life as a jobless young man who is struggling with asthma attacks; and the third is my study and survival in the U.S. Only the first section has been translated into English so far. I maybe able to spend more time to continue to work on this project and complete it as a book in the future.
I was born in a "black family" of Red China in 1953, and right after my 6th grade the Cultural Revolution started, that was 1966. I didn't go to the countryside for re-education, but stayed at home and jobless for four years, when all jobs have to be assigned by the government.
I was very poor and hopeless before the end of the 1970's. I arrived at Los Angeles International Airport with two heavy suitcases of Chinese art books and $200 US dollars in my pocket in August 18, 1989.
At the 40th anniversary of the Cultural Revolution in China, I would like to present and share my story with others for the memorial of my family members and many other Chinese who died in the misfortune during that time.
I am so glad the nightmare is over. Today, I am pretty happy with how China has been developed during the past twenty eight years. I believe that the Chinese people will receive more freedoms, both economically and democratically soon.
-- by Guangzhen Zhou, Northern California, July, 2006.
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