Calls Across the Pacific
Page 1
CALLS
ACROSS
THE
PACIFIC
ALSO BY ZOE ROY
Butterfly Tears
The Long March Home
CALLS
ACROSS
THE
PACIFIC
a novel by
Zoë S. Roy
INANNA PUBLICATIONS AND EDUCATION INC.
TORONTO, CANADA
Copyright © 2015 Zoë S.Roy
Except for the use of short passages for review purposes, no part of this book may be reproduced, in part or in whole, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronically or mechanically, including photocopying, recording, or any information or storage retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher or a licence from the Canadian Copyright Collective Agency (Access Copyright).
We gratefully acknowledge the support of the Canada Council for the Arts and the Ontario Arts Council for our publishing program. We also acknowledge the financial support of the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund.
Cover design: Val Fullard
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Roy, Zoë S., 1953–, author
Calls across the Pacific : a novel / by Zoë S. Roy.
(Inanna poetry & fiction series)
Issued in print and electronic formats.
ISBN 978-1-77133-229-3 (paperback).--ISBN 978-1-77133-230-9 (epub).-
ISBN 978-1-77133-232-3 (pdf)
I. Title. II. Series: Inanna poetry and fiction series
PS8635.O94C34 2015 C813’.6 C2015-904999-7
C2015-905000-6
Printed and bound in Canada
Inanna Publications and Education Inc.
210 Founders College, York University
4700 Keele Street, Toronto, Ontario, Canada M3J 1P3
Telephone: (416) 736-5356 Fax: (416) 736-5765
Email: inanna.publications@inanna.ca Website: www.inanna.ca
To the sent-down youth and to those
who appreciate freedom in the New World
CONTENTS
1. Military Farm
2. Kelp in Hong Kong
3. Dear Uncle Sam
4. Uncle Tom’s Cabin
5. Franklin’s Fish and Chips
6. Ping-Pong Diplomacy
7. Moon River
8. The Fenian Cycle
9. Butterfly Myth
10. Bamboo Sticks
11. Long Live…
12. Blueberry Pie
13. The Fallen Red Sun
14. Lost Sheep
15. Remote Corner
16. An American Spy on the Run
17. At Dawn
18. The Sun Rises from the West
19. Broken-down Shoe and Fractured Leg
20. Ruins of Yuanmingyuan Garden
21. From Sandra’s Chips to Chicken Soup
22. In the Name of the Revolution
23. Genghis Khan’s Two Horses
24. Phone Calls from the Gulag
25. Temur’s Stallion
26. The Wind-Blown Grass
27. Cicadas
28. Peace and Quiet Afterwards
Acknowledgements
1.
MILITARY FARM
DUSK, LIKE A THICK CURTAIN, concealed the quiet fields of Number Five Military Farm near Jinghong County in Yunnan Province, China in 1969. The hot, damp air of an August evening hovered over the rows of soybean plants and clung to the barb-wired fields. Rusted iron posts stood alongside the trees and bushes, outlining a path that sprawled into the faraway woods. Under a massive fir tree, a young man and woman, both about twenty years old, stood silently.
“Nina, why don’t you say something?”
The woman bit her lip. “What else can I say?” She lifted her head and fixed her gaze on his eyes. “Do you love me, Dahai?”
“Yes, but I can’t go with you.” Dahai’s hand fanned mosquitoes away from Nina’s face. “Love isn’t everything. I must go to Vietnam.” He paused and then added, “I just don’t think it’s right to sneak across the border into Hong Kong.”
“You have to sneak across the border to get to Vietnam,” Nina said and grasped his hand. The Viet Cong are communists, too. She shook her head ruefully. “Think twice about this, Dahai. I am afraid you will regret this decision.”
“I want to be recognized as a revolutionary,” said Dahai. “It’s that simple.”
“And I can’t live under the repression of the Cultural Revolution anymore. The land across the Pacific Ocean means freedom to me,” she said, her hands on his chest, her eyes imploring him to change his mind.
“Maybe we are both wrong. Who knows?” Dahai’s eyes locked with Nina’s, and a twinge of sadness pierced his heart. He pulled Nina toward him gently and embraced her. “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting. I’ve thought it over and I cannot follow the path my parents took before me.” His parents had been labelled enemies of the Communist Party, but Dahai fervently believed in communism. “Maybe I can prove it’s wrong to say, ‘the hero father raises a revolutionary son, and a reactionary father raises an anti-revolutionary bastard.’ I need to prove that I’m a revolutionary, and the only way I can do this is to join the Viet Cong in the anti-American war.”
“You’re so headstrong.” Nina quavered and withdrew herself from his arms. “What’s the use of proving you are different from your parents? Nobody treats us like human beings here because of our family backgrounds. Since the Cultural Revolution, we’ve been branded as evil.” She shook her head, her bobbed hair swinging back and forth. “We’ve been trying hard to remould ourselves here, but because of our backgrounds we will always be second-class citizens. I’d rather take my chances someplace where I can be free.”
Dahai nodded. “I understand. Listen, in case…”
“In case what?” Nina stared into his brown eyes, and abruptly pulled away.
“If I die, and if you ever see them again, tell my brother and sister my story.”
“Well, if I die, go and find my mother but don’t say a word about me,” Nina said, irritated.
“Enough, stop.” Dahai hesitated, but reached out his arms again to draw Nina close. At the prospect of leaving her, his heart sank into a dark well, but he could not relinquish his plan to go to Vietnam — his only chance to prove himself.
Nina clenched her fists and punched his chest. “I will blame you forever,” she sobbed, unable to speak anymore.
Dahai held Nina tighter to him. “Forgive me. But we both need to do what we must.”
She stopped weeping, vehemently rubbing the tears from her cheeks. Leaning her head on his chest, Nina was calmed by the beating of his heart against her ear. “We deserve a better life,” she said. “Something is wrong with this society, not us. I know I will regret it if I don’t try to escape and I’m sorry that you aren’t coming with me.”
A gust of wind wrapped itself around their bodies and they shivered under the darkening sky. The sound of a dog’s barking brought the reality of their future steps closer. Nina remembered she was supposed to meet with her girlfriend, Zeng, to plan for the next day’s trip to Kunming. “I’ve got to go,” she whispered with a sudden urgency.
“You go.” Dahai clasped her head with his palms, and his lips covered hers. His mother’s words echoed in his ears, and despite his usual aversion to the sentiment, he repeated it now. “God bless you.”
Nina drew back from him, and with a muffled “Goodbye,” she hurried away toward the end of the path. When she turned her head, she could b
arely distinguish his lanky figure; the darkness had engulfed him.
Watching Nina fade away, Dahai almost called out, “Wait! I’ll come with you.” He felt frozen, heartbroken. That he might never see her again in his life was a tangible reality. He covered his eyes with his hand, but could not stop the tears, and they dripped through his fingers. Like a puppet on strings, he shambled back to the hut he shared with twelve other young farm workers.
After breakfast the following morning, Nina did not follow the other workers out to the field to pick ears of corn. She gripped the fictitious telegram sent by her cousin, Rei, in Guangzhou, and exited the dormitory. She was in her yellow-green uniform: a worn-out shirt and pants with patched knees. It was so hot that she had to roll up the shirt’s long sleeves and the hem of the pants as she headed over to the head office of the military farm. A middle-aged army officer sat at a desk, his greying head bent over a newspaper.
“Good morning, Chairman Yang,” she greeted him politely. “I’m sorry to disturb you. May I ask for a personal leave? It’s not the busy season now.”
Yang lifted his head from the paper in his hands and noticed her red-rimmed eyes and puffy eyelids. “What’s wrong, Nina?”
“My mother’s been hospitalized.” Nina handed her telegram to him. “Look at this.”
“‘Return home. Mother’s sick.’” Yang read it aloud and then scrutinized the date. “Well, it looks like you haven’t been home since you came here a year ago.” Yang seemed to mull over the issue though his face expressed no emotion or reaction.
Nina prayed that he would not reject her request. She could hardly breathe while he turned the note over and over again in his hands until, finally, he agreed. “Okay, I will give you permission, but you are ordered to return in three weeks.”
“Thank you so much!” Nina was surprised to find her hands were trembling.
“Being away from the farm doesn’t mean you should stop reforming your thoughts. Follow Mao’s directives every day,” Yang said, his voice clipped, his fingers tapping the desk hard.
“Yes, Chairman Yang,” Nina replied meekly. She bowed and hurriedly left the office, walking quickly back to her dorm room, a spring in her step.
Nina packed her belongings hastily and left the compound before anyone returned from the fields. She carried a worn green canvas handbag over her left shoulder and gripped the handles of a dark blue duffel bag with her right hand as she trudged along the road to Jinghong County. She narrowed her eyes to shield them from the stark midday sun and surveyed the green crops blanketing the fields like huge rugs. A profound sadness filled her chest when she thought about Dahai. But she did not turn her head; she was afraid she would lose the courage.
Nina had walked about ten minutes when she heard a horse’s hooves clacking on the ground behind her. Zeng had arrived in a horse-drawn cart just as expected. Zeng lived with her parents who were local peasants. She borrowed the horse-drawn cart from her commune.
“Get in,” said Zeng, as she deftly guided the horse to a stop. Her two long braids swung down in front of her as she reached down to take Nina’s bags. She flung them into the back and then pulled Nina up over the side of the cart.
Nina dropped onto the hard seat and felt the exhaustion of a sleepless night fall over like a darkened tent. Gradually, the rocking motion of the cart and clocking rhythm of the horse’s hooves pounding the dirt road helped her drift off to sleep.
After a few hours of restless slumber, she finally opened her eyes. Night had fallen. There was no moon, only the silvery light of a star-filled sky. The horse’s snorting reminded her she was in the cart that had stopped at the roadside.
“Zeng?”
“We’re close to Kunming,” said Zeng as she handed her an open canister. “Here’s something for you to eat. I’ve just had something, too.”
“Thanks.” Nina grabbed a steamed bun from the canister. Her growling stomach betrayed her hunger. She wasn’t satisfied until she had gobbled down three buns. After quaffing water from a canteen, Nina asked, “Do you think your boyfriend will be on duty with today’s train?”
“I’m not sure,” Zeng said with a shrug. “His schedule changes all the time and you are a couple of days late. I had no way to reach him and let him know you were still coming.”
“I’m sorry,” said Nina, holding back the tears that unexpectedly clouded her eyes. She had waited to leave, hoping that Dahai would change his mind. She could not explain all this to her friend. There wasn’t time. “What do you think I should do? Should I try to find him?”
“Get on the train by yourself at first. Only try to find him if you get caught without a ticket.”
“Okay, that’s what I will do.” Nina grasped Zeng’s hand. “I really appreciate your help and will repay you in the future.”
“Our moms are old friends, so I think of you as my sister, Nina. I am glad to help and I wish you the best,” Zeng said with a warm smile on her face.
The horse-drawn cart resumed its way to the Kunming West Railway Station. The feeling of leaving her friends forever and facing an uncertain future came flooding back to Nina. She wept like a little girl under night’s curtains.
Finally, Zeng parked her cart near the station where a lonesome train whistle broke the quiet of dawn. Nina climbed out of the cart then caught her bags as Zeng tossed them over the side. She rummaged through her handbag and pulled out a package covered in newspaper, which she then placed in Zeng’s hand. “This is for you; a silk scarf to remember me by. Be careful on your way back.”
Zeng hugged the package to her chest, holding back tears. “Don’t worry about me. You must be careful, too.”
Nina patted Zeng’s hand reassuringly, although she herself felt uncertain and afraid. “Goodbye! And thank you,” she said. Then, she turned and spotted a side entrance to the station under a dim streetlamp where train workers came and went. She headed in that direction. Through the station window she could see a man resting his head on the table, clearly asleep. Without hesitation, Nina scampered past the security booth where a whiff of cigarette smoke drifted from the small opening and mingled with the odour of diesel.
When she reached the barren platform, she used her travel bag as a stool, and waited.
The train arrived an hour later. When she boarded, nobody asked to see her ticket, but she could not find anywhere to sit. Wading through car after car, and nudging the people standing in the aisles, she finally spotted an empty space near an elderly and kind-looking woman. She squeezed in her luggage and plunked herself on top of it. By the time she settled, many passengers had awakened. Some stretched their arms or legs, and others stumbled across the crowded aisle to the washroom or the dining car. Nina watched as a few crew members hurried past. She was determined not to ask about Zeng’s boyfriend unless she was in a real pinch.
About an hour later, a loudspeaker announced a ticket check, which required the passengers’ full co-operation. Nina stood with her bags and walked hastily into a nearby washroom, locking the door securely behind her. The damp stench of voided bowels mixed with smoke fumes blanketed her nose. Even with the window ajar, the smell penetrated the air. The noise of people shuffling, questioning, and arguing lasted ten minutes, and then receded. Relieved, she left and returned to her spot.
“I thought you’d got a seat somewhere else,” the elderly woman said, drawing back her legs to leave Nina some space.
“Thank you. I went to the washroom. I have a terrible stomach ache.” She could not reveal the real reason behind her retreat.
“A lad was fined fifty yuan for not having a ticket. That’s a lot of money,” the woman sighed.
Nina drew in a breath. My eight yuan would not have gotten me far. At least she had not needed to call on Zeng’s boyfriend, and put him at risk, too.
Three days later, Nina slept soundly in a dust-layered room on Lujing Road in Guangzhou City. In
her dream, she was a child again, and her mother sat beside her in bed. Her mother’s warm hand gently stroked Nina’s hair. Before she could look directly into her mother’s face, her childhood faded like a shred of cloud dissipating in the sky.
She opened her eyes to dust particles dancing in the afternoon sunshine that had slipped through the gaps of the window curtains. She heard a knock on the door, and someone approached with caution. “Who is it?” she asked.
Nina was relieved when she heard her eighteen-year-old cousin, Rei, answer. He pushed the door open and walked in. “What time can we leave?” he asked.
“I… I…” Nina stammered. “I want to say goodbye to my mother, but I am afraid of getting us into trouble.”
“It’s not a good idea,” Rei said, looking somewhat alarmed. “She might be charged with aiding our escape. It’s better if she knows nothing about it. If we fail, she will see us behind bars.”
“You’re right,” Nina said, reaching for her clothes on the chair next to the bed. Rei turned his eyes away and squatted to arrange his items in the corner: a pack with an air pump, two deflated basketballs, a knife, plastic cords, and a couple of string shopping bags.
That evening, Nina and Rei paced back and forth on Yuexiu Street North, gazing up at a building across the street. When Nina finally noticed a blurred figure in the lit window, she drew a deep breath.
“Goodbye, dear Mother,” she whispered. Nina turned her head and strode purposefully toward Rei. “I am ready to go now.”
They walked briskly to the end of the street and disappeared.
2.
KELP IN HONG KONG
BY TRAIN, Nina and Rei arrived in Shenzhen, where Rei paid his contact to help arrange for their escape. At night, with the help of a map, they reached Defence Road in Sha Tau Kok and hid in a nearby ditch. Both Nina and Rei had a basketball tucked inside a string shopping bag that was then tied to their waists to help them float if they had to swim. The shore in the distance was invisible in the thickening darkness, but they could hear waves lapping the beach and smell sea-grass. Time passed at an excruciatingly slow pace but they dared not budge until the People’s Liberation Army patrol team had stridden past.