by Li Juan
The next morning, while those in bed were still lost in their dreams, Cuma began telling his story again … for half an hour in bed, then another hour while we drank tea. His appetite for talk was finally satiated.…
Because it was too cold, the truck’s diesel engine wouldn’t start. Someone came in to ask Sister-in-law to boil some water. Even though water was hard to come by at the time, Sister-in-law still boiled up a whole kettle without second thought. Although the whole kettle was poured onto the engine, it didn’t work. Cuma then brought over a big bag of sheep manure. The driver jacked up the front of the vehicle. They lit a fire underneath the truck and moved it around to several spots until eventually the engine started.
Elsewhere, people were frantically trying to lasso the horses. First thing in the morning, Kurmash went out to look for the horses. An hour later, he returned with five of them. Then both families jumped into action, luring the horse with a corn-filled mask, then encircling it until it could be roped in. The horse had no idea what was coming for it. It chomped on the corn blissfully. If another horse approached to sniff the mask, it would snarl and try to bite the intruder through the mask.
Yet, in spite of having mingled for a night and a morning, no deal was struck! The horse trader felt the horse’s stomachs and his face immediately soured. He would only offer fifty-five hundred, but Cuma wanted at least fifty-six hundred. They reached an impasse. The short-tempered trader took his money, climbed into the truck (its engine had been rumbling for a while now), and drove off. Cuma was stubborn too. Without a word, he proudly, albeit disappointedly, watched the truck drive away … it really left! Both parties were probably waiting until the very last moment for the other side to give in, but neither did. They both had their pride.
Back home, husband and wife said nothing, a sudden and complete silence.
Hours later, Cuma said to me with a strained smile, “No matter, if we can’t sell them this year, there’s always next year! All the same …” and gulped down two bowls of last night’s leftover meat porridge before quietly going out to herd.
In my opinion, next time you are selling horses, first agree on a price, then boil the meat! To treat them so graciously, then have it all come to nothing.… Yet even if a deal had been struck, after expensing the cost of the meat, we still wouldn’t have made much of a profit. Besides, I felt like the horse trader was a wily fellow, asking for help to start his engine before discussing prices … perhaps he was worried that if a number couldn’t be agreed upon, he wouldn’t have been able to ask for help?
On second thought: that would be too petty! In the wilderness, courtesy is far more important than profit. Sitting together, every kind of guest is still a guest. The joy of coming together is more important than anything else. Moreover, on such a cold day, to leave someone stranded because of a disagreement would have been immoral. You’d feel nothing but shame if word got around!
The only thing I couldn’t get over were the livestock that were already tied up in the back of that big truck. It was so cold and they had already been tied up for a night and a morning, which was to be followed by another day of hunger—if only the truck had been filled up already so that they could all go back.…
* * *
AT THE END OF JANUARY, on a warm and cloudy day, Cuma returned with another group of visitors, the most we’d had at any one time—seven adults and a child! Add to that their thick coats and our burrow was ready to burst.
Cuma had been gone for five days—he went to Akehara for some business. That afternoon, after finishing all the work, I took a walk north. Before I knew it, I had walked several miles to an old burial site that Kama had told me about. Right there by the burial site, a white car suddenly appeared. It was like I had seen a ghost! Like the car had fallen from the sky and appeared silently right there next to me … but really, it was just Cuma’s ride home.
Even though with Cuma gone, there was no one to talk nonsense or grumble all day, and at night we could sleep peacefully until the morning, I was still happy to see him back. Wanting to accompany him home immediately, I had to impose myself upon the Beijing jeep already fit to burst with seven adults and a child, and cruelly shove my way inside … the child cried and cried. The driver took us all the way to the door of our burrow.
Cuma was more spirited than usual, having just gotten a haircut back in the village. Shoes polished, clothes ironed, he looked a new man, beaming with confidence. And now, having returned to his own turf, he was even more magnanimous, ardently welcoming everyone into his home for tea. So the entourage poured out of the car and into the burrow.
Once inside, the guests all offered their greetings before flooding onto the bed, leaving a mess of shoes on the floor. Sister-in-law hurried next door to borrow bowls, Zhada zipped off to hide, and Kama swiftly tidied the burrow. Soon, food covered the tablecloth and a multitude of conversations broke out, sharing all sorts of news from up north, by the banks of the Ulungur, all the things that had happened over these past two months. It was so exciting. Then, someone even went to the car and brought back a dombra, a long-necked lute.
Tall and fat, not to mention old, Cuma couldn’t possibly squeeze in the back seat of the car with the others, so for the whole trip he had sat alone in the front passenger seat. Likewise, the dombra couldn’t be squeezed either, so the whole way, Cuma had to hold it carefully. Even though it had no carrying case, the lute still managed to arrive in the wilderness in one piece.
Those who could play took turns showing off their skills while those who could sing let their voices loose, singing one song after another. Sister-in-law was both audience and waitress, endlessly offering more food to everyone. Not a single person questioned the moment—even though it would be pitch-black out if they didn’t soon hit the road!
The driver even tried to get me to leave with him. He said that the four groups of people he was scheduled to drive next were all heading to different corners of the land, no less than a whole day’s drive. That night, he and his passengers would seek shelter at the next destination (the poor family, six adults and a child). When they would arrive, there would be a whole night of music and song, very exciting (the poor family!).
He spoke to me as if offering advice: “Someone like you, who wants to write about our winter pastures, can’t just stay in one place. You should go here, there, then another place, and somewhere else after that; you’ve got to take a look everywhere.” He even made a promise: after dropping off this carload and picking up another carload, he would bring me back home. And added, “It’s on the way!”
At the time, I was tempted. But because I didn’t have anything decent to wear, nor did I have any gifts prepared for my new hosts, I thought twice about it and eventually declined the offer.
Good thing I didn’t go—by the time the car came back to our part of the pastures, a week had gone by. As soon as he had dropped off one carload, he picked up a new carload. Meanwhile, it was probably music and songs every evening, then crashing the night wherever he ended up.
* * *
IT WASN’T UNTIL the middle of February, when the days grew longer and temperatures warmer, that we finally welcomed our first visitors, in the true sense of the word—who came neither for money nor entertainment. Gifts in hand, they came specifically to see us—us! Specifically!
They were Kama’s old classmate Azila and Azila’s mother. Azila had been studying at a medical school in Altai for the past two years. It was winter vacation, so she returned to the winter pasture to see her father and mother. At this point, she had been in the winter pasture for two weeks. Being used to life in the city, she was perhaps having trouble coping with the isolation of the wilderness. As soon as the days warmed, she began to pester her mother to go visit neighbors together. Truth be told, the two girls were acquaintances rather than close friends, and their mothers hardly knew each other. It was only because their homes were close, a mere hour’s ride on horseback.
The arrival of the two guests came s
uddenly, catching Kama and Sister-in-law completely by surprise. When they pushed open the door and entered, the mother approached Sister-in-law right away to shake her hands, as if it was a much-anticipated occasion. And the first thing Azila did upon entering was to ask where the mirror was. She tidied up her bangs and, once satisfied, asked Kama a second question: Where is the toilet?
Azila’s hair was jet-black (from the looks of its luster, recently shampooed with “Instant Black”), thick, with a stylish slanted bang. Her eyebrows were thick, her skin fair, and her teeth white and straight. But, how shall I put it—though the individual features on her face looked nice, when they came together, there was something mean about it.…
Though not particularly attractive, Azila wore heavy makeup, dressed in a set of blindingly white coat and sweater, as well as a vest that served no purpose other than decoration, and covered herself in strong perfume. Her meticulous efforts accentuated her “femininity.” In comparison, Kama looked like a noodles-in-water plain Jane.
Azila’s mother clearly had nothing to talk about with Sister-in-law, but she sat happily at the tablecloth anyway. There, she admired her diva of a daughter’s every gesture. The humbly dressed woman had a tan, weathered face and a personality as open as the plains. With a satisfied smile, she said to me, “She, my daughter; me, old lady!”
While the parents stayed home drinking tea, the girls went outside, hand in hand. They sat down on a log next to the sheep pen below a sand dune to sun themselves and eagerly shared some girl talk. Blue sky stretched over the vast land. Though there was clearly no one else around, the girls nevertheless spoke in their softest voices. One could only imagine the exciting secrets! Then, young Kurmash butted in. After saying hello, he sat down next to the girls and silently listened in on their conversation. From beginning to end, he didn’t say one word or show any indication that he had found what he heard to be interesting. Anyway, he just sat there quietly to a side as if that was all he needed to do to feel part of the group. After that, Rahmethan and Nurgün also joined the group, and so, having nothing better to do, I went to check it out as well. With everyone sitting in a big circle, the girls stopped whispering among themselves. It was a “stop” that felt natural and welcomed. All the young people were gathered in one spot under the sun, whimsically kicking the sand. The days really were getting warmer. The coldest of days were gone, never to return!
Sister-in-law heated up a pot of meat and cabbage over rice for the guests, also inviting the neighbor, Sayna, to eat with us. With the exception of Zhada, there were only women around the tablecloth. The conversations became varied and effortless. Our little banquet lasted for a long while before drawing to a close. When it was over, mother and daughter stood and said their goodbyes—the sun had passed its zenith. By the time they reached home, it would be dusk.
After the guests left, we laid out the tablecloth once again and started a new round of tea. Sister-in-law and Kama had a long discussion about the visitors. Kama turned to me and asked, “Did you think she was a good girl?” Before I had a chance to reply, she expressed her criticism: “No good! She has so many boyfriends! Even though she kept going to school, she can’t even speak Mandarin!” This second point was a fact. Whenever I asked the girl a question, Kama had to interpret for her. She had spent two years living in the city, yet her Mandarin wasn’t even as good as Kama the herder’s! Perhaps she really did spend all her time dating?
* * *
ONLY A FEW DAYS LATER, two more special guests arrived. They were two cousins from the pasture to the east. That day, they were only passing through our part of the pasture on their way north. Why do I call them “special”? In reality, the younger one looked like any other herder guy with a beard and ruddy cheeks, shy and quiet. But the older one was exceptionally dapper. Even though his down jacket and leather shoes weren’t new, they were neat and clean. His hands were also clean, not like the hands of someone who did manual labor. His hair was clean-cut and his manners refined … in short, he didn’t look like a herder! When I took out my camera to take a picture of him, he took out a camera to snap me back—and his camera was better than mine! My camera was only worth a thousand yuan, his was worth two thousand.
I suspected that he was a cadre from the office of rotational grazing. But to my surprise, he was a teacher! He worked at an elementary school to the northwest of the city, in the village called Danawuzi by the Irtysh River, though he usually lived in the city. He was a guest visiting the pastures to our east and had already been there for twenty days.
I asked him why he was visiting the winter pastures. He said, as a matter of course, “For fun! I’ve never been here before! I wanted to see what it was like.” Certainly an unusual idea for recreation, so I didn’t believe him. Only later did he admit that he was out there to lend a hand. Only one family comprising two unmarried brothers occupied that enormous pasture. Normally, the older brother herded while the younger brother took care of household chores and camels. Then, when the older brother went into the city for three weeks to take care of some business, the younger brother couldn’t handle all the work by himself, so they invited this cousin to their winter burrow to help out (probably of all their relatives, the only one with free time was this cousin, who was on winter vacation). Each day, the younger brother herded the flock and the teacher took care of the housework. By this point, the older brother had returned, and with the days getting warmer, the younger brother took the cousin around to explore the area and see family before he left the pastures. For those couple of days, the older brother must have been scrambling at home, all by himself!
I was impressed. “Twenty days, not bad at all! As a city boy, how did you adjust?”
He asked me back, “And you, as a Han, how did you adjust?”
That’s when Kama introduced the bearded herder to me as Cuma’s younger brother. But a younger brother from which branch of the family? I decided to get to the bottom of it, but the teacher saved me the trouble of asking: “They’re from the same clan.” Clan! What an apt word.
The more we talked, the more I was surprised—this elementary schoolteacher wasn’t just knowledgeable about ordinary things. Never mind chatting with me, he could have delivered work reports to the county party secretary! I couldn’t help but ask, “What do you teach?”
He smiled. “I’m the school’s party branch secretary.”
My first reaction was sheer respect, the second an urge to laugh. I imagined this party secretary spending all day kneading dough, baking nan, pulling noodles, milking cows, and chasing down camels.
As time went by it become clear that he wasn’t our visitor but rather my visitor! I kept him yapping away without pause. Soon, I had three questions cleared up: first, our pasture was roughly thirty thousand mu, not two thousand mu as Cuma insisted, two thousand! I had always had my suspicion. Even simply eyeballing it, the pasture seemed like it was at least ten thousand mu. Second, there was indeed a new policy that this would be the last year during which the nomadic herders would be allowed to graze the winter pastures (good thing I made it just in time!). The government subsidy was seven yuan per mu, not six as Cuma had told me, and the subsidies would last for seven years! These two bits of information were related: if the policy is implemented, Cuma’s family would receive several hundred thousand yuan in subsidies (bearing in mind that his family only owned a third of the pasture).
The final point that was clarified had to do with the children’s schooling. Cuma said that each child’s schooling cost, on average, three hundred yuan a month, which was hard for me to believe. Could rural education really be so expensive? Now I knew for certain that this was more of his nonsense. According to this teacher, the policy of free tuition and board had been enacted years ago. Each student paid only forty-five yuan a year for their uniform. If they grew slowly and could hold on to their uniform for two years, they paid forty-five yuan every other year. All other items like tuition, books, meals, and board were all free, totally fr
ee. Old Cuma sure knew how to cry poor.…
Of course, under the current circumstances, his family wasn’t exactly wealthy. But there was no need to keep so much from me. Didn’t we already tell him that his debt would be canceled?
The cousins sat for no more than an hour before leaving, continuing on their way to the north. They still had an hour’s journey ahead of them. That night, they would stay with the relatives they were visiting before heading home the next day.
It was almost too sad to see them go.… I walked them all the way to their horses.
Just as they had buttoned their coats and put on their gloves, ready to mount their horses, Sayna’s two children came back carrying sacks of snow. As soon as they noticed who I was with, they disappeared inside the nearest cattle burrow. The school party branch secretary smiled awkwardly. “Both of them are my students.…”
What a riot—he must have been quite the authority to have instilled such fear in the children!
* * *
SEVERAL DAYS LATER, the school secretary’s cousin returned, on his own this time. He wanted one of the puppies. Without his older cousin, the official, at his side, he was much chattier—turns out that his Mandarin wasn’t bad either!
The young man was around the same age as Kurmash, yet he seemed much more refined and courteous. When it came to selecting his pup, he was very particular, from the size of its claws and head, to the evenness of its coat and markings, to the length of the tail. We crouched by the dog burrow conferring for quite some time. The dog he settled on at first happened to be the same one that I fancied, but he barely hesitated before deferring to me. Then he asked me for advice on how to raise a dog, what I fed it, what it could survive on, where it should sleep at night. It was very comforting to know that the little dog he eventually left with was going to a good home.