Love In No Man's Land

by Duo Ji Zhuo Ga

  The ground was littered with steaming yak pats. The yak that had been shot lay dead, a tiny bullet hole in its neck. Lunzhu took his knife from his belt and began to skin it. With no horse or ass to assist them, they wouldn’t be able to carry a yak of that size home in one piece; it would have to be chopped up and taken back in chunks.

  *

  At the herders’ encampment on the eastern shore of Cuoe Lake, Luobudunzhu, wearing his soldier’s belt as usual, took up his megaphone and announced that every man and woman was required to come to the Revolutionary Committee’s tent that night to study the important directives of Chairman Mao.

  Before the Liberation, the herders of the Changtang Plateau were mostly nomadic. They moved from pasture to pasture with their yaks and sheep, depending on the season, and had no fixed place of residence. After the Liberation, government officials arrived and divided the area into communes. The population of the grasslands was small and the distance between tents was often well over five kilometres, so to organise even a small meeting, the commune had to despatch riders ten days in advance, and even then they wouldn’t necessarily find everyone. To make their work easier, the County Revolutionary Committee decided to group the herders into production teams and have them live in one fixed location and pool their food. This was convenient for the revolutionaries, but it made the herders’ lives a lot more difficult. They had to walk for tens of kilometres to put their livestock out to pasture and sometimes could not get back home inside of a day.

  When she heard Luobudunzhu summoning them to the meeting, Dawa began pacing back and forth inside her tent, unsure what to do. Her man had gone looking for wild yaks and was still not back. If he missed the study meeting, he’d have to go to a struggle session, but that would be no big deal compared with losing a meat ration for having ignored the directive against hunting. They had barely enough to eat as it was – if they lost an entire meat ration, how would they get through the next year?

  She thought and thought, then put on her leather chuba and white lambskin hat, told her second son Gongzan to watch his brothers and sister, and walked over to the team tent.

  As she stood outside the tent, she heard Team Leader Danzeng talking to Revolutionary Committee Director Ciwang and the people he’d brought with him. Ciwang rarely went back to his own home these days; he mostly just stayed out on Cuoe Grassland. He lived in the team tent, saying he was determined to root out every last one of Cuoe Grassland’s poisonous grasses.

  Dawa stamped her feet loudly and deliberately. From inside came Danzeng’s deep voice. ‘Who is it?’

  ‘It’s me, Team Leader!’ Dawa opened the door flap and stood there smiling.

  Although Dawa had given birth to five children, her waist had not thickened and her breasts and buttocks still managed to look shapely, even under her leather chuba and silver belt. Wherever she went, men stared at her. The men in the team tent were no different. When they saw her, they stopped talking and turned towards her. Ciwang was particularly attentive. He couldn’t stop himself from going over to her, helping her off with her coat and holding it for her. ‘Well, well, the celestial maiden of the moon that lights the grassland has arrived! Please come in and sit down.’

  ‘Director, Team Leader, no thank you. I have come on behalf of the head of my household. He… he’s sick. He has a fever and can’t leave the tent,’ she said, glancing at the men and laughing nervously.

  ‘Sick? We’re studying the latest directives from Chairman Mao tonight. The County Committee has told us that we must transmit them effectively and that everyone has to study them.’ Ciwang stared lecherously at Dawa’s face; he was practically salivating at the sight of her. Dawa, a woman as beautiful as the moon, had been the object of his frustrated desire when he was a young man. He’d gone to her tent several times but had always been driven out; once, her dog had chased him right across the grassland while she stood by her tent howling with laughter. He’d sworn to himself that he would have her. She was the real reason he spent so much time on the grassland now; it wasn’t because his wife tried to make him stay home or because there were poisonous grasses that needed rooting out. No, it was because of the woman standing in front of him, the woman he’d never been able to have.

  ‘Director, he… is really sick – he can’t get up!’ Dawa avoided Ciwang’s eyes; she lowered her head to look at her toes and spoke in a small voice.

  ‘He can’t get up?’ Ciwang looked at her doubtfully. ‘I’ll go and check.’

  ‘Director…’ Dawa quickly raised her head. ‘Our tent is very dirty. How could we invite you in – you would soil your boots.’

  ‘What difference does that make? If a great beauty like you can live there, why should I be afraid to come and have a look?’

  ‘It’s not that, Director, believe me. If you really want to come, I need to go on ahead and clean up.’ Dawa turned towards Team Leader Danzeng and shot him a pleading look.

  Danzeng stood up and said, ‘How about I go instead? I often go to her family’s tent – it’s tatty and there are yak and sheep droppings everywhere, so it wouldn’t be appropriate for you to go, Director. I’ll go and check up on him. You sit here for a while: the butter tea is coming soon and the girl who’s bringing it is one of our lake’s wildflowers – we’ll get her to sing for you!’

  Hearing this, Ciwang stopped in his tracks. ‘Alright. You go and check on him, but come back quickly – we’ll wait until you return before we start drinking.’

  ‘Good!’ Danzeng left the tent with Dawa.

  Once they’d checked that there was no one else around, Danzeng whispered, ‘He’s gone hunting again, hasn’t he?’

  Dawa glanced at him. ‘We’re almost out of food,’ she said softly. ‘We adults can manage, but the children are only small and they can’t go without.’

  Dawa and Danzeng had grown up together and their happy childhood memories lived on in their hearts. When the time had come for love, they’d hoped to be together for life. Danzeng’s first go at dog-driving had been to Dawa’s tent and he’d wanted to marry her. But his parents were against it; they said that because Dawa was an only child, Danzeng would have to care for her family’s elders if he married her and wouldn’t be able to get out of it. They made him marry another woman. Not long after, Dawa found Lunzhu and started her own family. Even though they now both lived beside the lake, they were careful to practise self-control and had not had an encounter since. Neither of them wanted to bring conflict into their otherwise peaceful lives. When there were no deep feelings, it was easy for people to sleep together, but because Danzeng and Dawa loved each other, there would be discord in their tents if they were to become involved again. Men and women with deep feelings could not play the adult games of the grassland.

  ‘You have lots of children – the commune knows how difficult things are for you and we’re thinking about giving you some help. Oh, the times we live in… Try to hold on. I’ve heard that the government is thinking of breaking up the collectives, putting a stop to group rationing, and returning the pastures, yaks and sheep to the herders. Things will be a little easier then.’

  ‘Thank you, Danzeng. I know it’s you that often leaves meat outside our door.’

  ‘I’m so sorry, Dawa. Long ago I promised to marry you, but then I married another woman. You have only one man, your children are small, and your life has been hard – I wish I could help you. But you know what a fierce temper my mother yak has, and if she found out, she might come looking for you and make trouble, so…’

  ‘I know, I know, Danzeng. I know what’s in your heart. It’s not your fault. When did our parents ever understand their children’s hearts?’

  ‘You mean you feel the way I do?’ Danzeng’s pulse quickened and he snatched up Dawa’s hand.

  Dawa quickly pulled it away, looked around to see if there was anyone nearby, and whispered, ‘I’m scared someone will see. Our time has passed – don’t take it to heart. I’m going back to my tent and you need to go b
ack inside too – the director is waiting to have a drink with you!’

  Danzeng watched meditatively as Dawa walked along the lakeshore, then he turned and strode back to the team tent.

  The moon rose and travelled as far as the mountaintop, but still Dawa’s man and eldest son had not returned. The four little ones were already asleep. She stood outside the tent until her hands and feet grew cold. When she turned, she suddenly sensed someone watching her, but although she looked carefully, she could see nothing but the crowd of tents. She shook her head and went inside. In the middle of the night she went out to urinate and saw the silhouette of a person flash by her tent. Strange – who else would be out so late? Again, she searched carefully, but apart from the cooing of the night wind, there was nothing.

  *

  Before dawn broke, Gongzha and his father came walking up the track from the river valley, carrying their meat. But just as they got to the encampment, a dozen torchbeams were shone in their faces, blinding them. The dogs began barking wildly.

  Luobudunzhu emerged laughing from the darkness, wearing his red-star cap and with a sarcastic smile plastered across his face. ‘Aren’t you meant to be sick? The Sniper, so sick he couldn’t leave his tent, so sick he couldn’t study the Great Leader Chairman Mao’s important directives – how come he’s bringing meat home at this hour? Ha, and it’s wild-yak meat too! He truly is the grassland’s sharpshooter, never comes back empty-handed.’ He leant forward and added nastily, ‘But he won’t be keeping it.’

  A troop of Red Guards pushed forwards, grabbed the meat off Lunzhu’s and Gongzha’s shoulders, and jostled Lunzhu away under detention. Gongzha was badly frightened. He ran behind them yelling ‘Aba!’, but one of the revolutionaries thrashed him with his leather belt and he had no choice but to turn back and run home.

  He burst into the tent crying ‘Ama!’ and told Dawa what had happened. Alarmed, Dawa got dressed, pulled on her boots and raced over to the Revolutionary Committee’s tent without even buckling her belt.

  The clearing in front of the tent was lit with a kerosene lamp and a press of people were circling around it. Lunzhu had been tied to a tent pole. There were traces of blood at the corner of his mouth; he had clearly just been beaten.

  Dawa pushed her way through, sobbing. ‘What do you think you’re doing, beating him up? What crime has he committed?’

  ‘You don’t know what crime he’s committed?’ Luobudunzhu said. ‘Hunting without permission, avoiding studying the important directives – if that’s not counter-revolutionary behaviour, what is it?’ he said coldly.

  ‘We have nothing to eat. Do you want my family to starve?’ Dawa stared at him, her eyes flashing cold like a mother leopard’s. ‘What harm does it do you if he goes hunting?’

  ‘You get a meat ration, same as everyone else, do you not?’ Commune Revolutionary Committee Director Ciwang walked over. ‘Other families can manage, why can’t yours?’

  ‘Director, I—’

  ‘They have a lot of children, Director,’ Danzeng interjected in a soft but authoritative voice. Unable to stand by and watch, he’d come over to join them. ‘Can’t we just overlook it? He only went out because they had no choice.’

  Ciwang glanced at Dawa. ‘How many children does he have?’

  ‘Five. The eldest has just started collecting yak pats; the smallest is still breastfeeding.’

  ‘Are they all his?’ Ciwang pointed at the pinioned Lunzhu. It wasn’t that he didn’t recognise Lunzhu – who around there didn’t know the Sniper? – it was that the Sniper’s time had passed. The country belonged to revolutionaries like himself now.

  ‘Yes, Director. He moved in with his wife’s family,’ Danzeng said carefully but with a smile.

  Ciwang walked over to the captive and said, ‘You’ve got some fucking luck – having a woman all to yourself.’ He leered at Dawa. ‘How about this: I’ll look into it and if things really are difficult for them, we’ll consider letting him off lightly.’

  ‘Yes, yes, Director. I’ll get a report to you right away.’ Danzeng nodded, cueing Dawa with his eyes.

  Dawa hurried forward, bowed to Ciwang and clasped her hands together. ‘Thank you, Director, you truly are a good man!’

  ‘Enough. I haven’t said I’ll let him go – that depends on your behaviour.’ Ciwang fixed Dawa with a meaningful stare. Then he turned to Danzeng and said, in words also loaded with subtext, ‘You don’t need to write a report. I’ll look into it myself, to avoid any conflict of interest.’

  Danzeng waved away the chattering crowd. ‘You can all go back home now. There’s nothing to see.’

  The onlookers headed off, muttering to each other.

  As Danzeng too made to leave, he glanced at Dawa and pursed his lips towards Ciwang. Dawa nodded her understanding.

  When Ciwang saw that all the spectators had disappeared, he said to Luobudunzhu, ‘You take your men and go home too. We’ll speak again when this has been cleared up.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Luobudunzhu replied loudly. Gesturing at the men behind him, he barked, ‘Let’s go.’

  Within minutes, Dawa and Ciwang were the only ones left in the clearing, apart from Lunzhu, still tied to the tent pole. Dawa pleaded with him, ‘Can’t you set my man free, Director? He hasn’t eaten all day!’

  ‘You come with me first.’ Ciwang didn’t even look at her, just turned and walked into his temporary tent.

  Dawa glanced at Lunzhu. Seeing his body striped with blood, her eyes flashed fire. Her man, respected by so many, as proud as an eagle, why was he being treated with such contempt? She could not allow him to suffer like this again. Her home couldn’t function without him. Women did not need to hide behind their men, basking in peace and happiness; they could stand shoulder to shoulder with their men. She hesitated briefly, then followed Ciwang into the tent. She knew perfectly well what would happen next.

  Ciwang sat on a chair and gave a cruel laugh as he looked at Dawa. ‘Do you really want to save your man?’

  ‘Lift your hand and let him go, Director. Our family has been pushed to the brink, our five children are going hungry.’

  ‘You say you’ve had five children, so how come your waist is so slender? You’re not at all like the woman in my house. She’s only had two children and her waist is as thick as a bear’s.’

  ‘Director—’

  ‘Your man’s really lucky – a woman all to himself! Every night he gets to hold you, a woman as beautiful as the moon. How cosy. It’s not like that at my house: we are three brothers to one woman, and you can’t always be sure that when it’s your turn, the woman will be… available. What do you say – is my life not hard?’ Ciwang gazed at her, his small eyes ravenous.

  Dawa looked at her toes, tears dripping. Even though the women of the grassland didn’t take sex that seriously, it had to be consensual. If it wasn’t pleasurable, what was the point? Dawa’s thoughts turned to her man, still tied to the pole. She forced herself to lift her head, put on a smile, loosen her belt and slowly take off her leather chuba.

  Ciwang was in no hurry. He threw some dried yak pats into the stove and waited for the tent to warm up. This woman was Cuoe Grassland’s moon, a figure from his dreams. Because of his status as Commune Revolutionary Committee Director, he didn’t dare go dog-driving like the other herders, for fear of being knocked back. He’d been forced to wait, to wait until the opportunity presented itself.

  He finished piling on the yak pats and turned round. Dawa was standing by the window, her snow-white chest half bare, her hand pulling at her collar. A shaft of moonlight was shining directly on her and it really was as if a celestial maiden had descended to the black tent.

  He beckoned to her and Dawa walked over slowly. He grabbed her by the waist and tore off the robe she was clutching. Pressing her down onto the couch, he began biting savagely at her breasts. Dawa hissed in pain.

  Ciwang had no intention of cherishing her. He had subjugated her, had used his power to get her, and having
finally got what he wanted, he was going to make the most of it. He quickly stripped and then penetrated her brutally, his hands grasping clumsily at her breasts and buttocks, leaving purple bruises on her pale white skin.

  Dawa wanted to cry, wanted to yell, but she didn’t dare. Her body was the one thing that could save the lives of her husband and children. Whether or not they could get through this difficult time depended on whether or not her body could endure this trial.

  When she eventually emerged from the tent, it was if she was stepping on cotton bracts. Clenching her teeth, she walked over to her man and began undoing his bonds. Gongzha ran over and together they quickly released Lunzhu.

  When Lunzhu saw the bruises on his woman’s neck, his eyes looked as if they would spurt blood. He turned towards the black tent, braced to burst in there, but his woman hung onto him as if for her life, gripping his hand, her face streaming with wounded tears. Lunzhu turned back, and, seeing Dawa at his feet and his beloved son sobbing by her side, he too let the tears fall, from eyes that did not weep easily.

  4

  Two days earlier, the commune had sent people round to inform everyone that the men of each tent were required to travel into town for study sessions on Mao Zedong Thought. The morning Lunzhu left, he swatted the naked Gongzha awake and told him to take care of his sister and three brothers and to watch over the production team’s sheep. He said that he’d be back in a few days and would bring Gongzha a fruit sweet. At the promise of a sweet as his reward, Gongzha nodded at his father without even wondering whether he was old enough to take on such responsibilities.

  Gongzha’s mouth watered whenever he thought about fruit sweets. Two years ago, when a group of Han men had come to the grassland prospecting for oil, he and some of the other children had gone along to see what they were doing, and the men had given them each a sweet. Gongzha had been desperate to make the sweet last as long as possible. He would get the sweet out and lick it twice, then close his eyes and let the sweetness roll off his tongue, slip down his throat and spread through his body. Then he’d wrap the sweet up again and put it back in his chuba’s front pocket. The sweet had lasted a month. It was Gongzha’s favourite childhood memory.