Calls Across the Pacific

by Zoë S. Roy

  “Interesting. Where are you from?”

  “Maine,” the owner answered. “Have you been there?”

  “I lived there for years. I even graduated from a university there.”

  “It’s a small world! I’m Sandra.”

  “I’m Nina. Nice to meet you.”

  “You, too.” At the moment, Sandra heard one of the servers call out to her. “I’ve got to go. I hope to see you again.” She turned and walked hurriedly to the kitchen.

  Rei sipped from a glass of soft drink. “I knew every word you said, but I didn’t completely understand what you were saying.”

  “You need to listen to English more often, instead of only reading it.” Nina tapped the table lightly with her fingers. “She’s from Maine. You know I lived there for many years.”

  “Come here again. You can chat with her again,” Rei said. “You know, students who are majoring in English come here often so they can practise English with the owners. Also, they get to have a taste of American culture.”

  “Do you enjoy eating the food here?”

  “It’s not too bad, but it’s more expensive than our canteen. Based on the policy, students who’ve worked for over five years before going to university get paid, so I do get a decent salary. But I need to save for round-trip tickets, so I can see Ahua at least twice a year.” Rei stood up.

  “You get a salary for studying? Well, that’s great,” said Nina. “And I am glad you get some time to see your wife too.” They disposed of their empty plates and cups, and left Sandra’s Chips, feeling satisfied and ready for the next day’s research and studies.

  When she got back to her room, Nina wrote a brief letter to Roger.

  June 27, 1978

  My dear Roger,

  Did you receive the letter I sent from Guangzhou?

  I’m in Peking University now and staying in a girls’ dorm room. I’ve visited a few historic spots. They are fantastic. And I’ve met some interesting people and recorded some interviews for my book. The research is going well.

  Tonight, I had dinner at an American fast food restaurant near the university called Sandra’s Chips. It’s run by an American couple. What a surprise! Most customers are university students. I’m going to go there again. Can you believe it? I had French fries!

  I’ll send you a postcard after I get to Inner Mongolia even though I’ll probably be back in Yarmouth before it reaches you.

  Take care of yourself.

  Love,

  Nina

  Then she sent a note to Liya, telling her about her conversation with Rei’s classmate from Hohhot. She explained that Jing would help them meet with a few people in Inner Mongolia so that Nina could record their stories. She let Liya know where she was staying on campus, and that she looked forward to seeing her soon.

  The following day, she walked to Sandra’s Chips again hoping that she would be able to chat with some students there. As she walked along the flagstones, she thought of the scholar exams that had taken place in Beijing, the ancient capital, over several dynasties. Ambitious, young, educated men from all over China had come and gone along these once cobblestoned streets, anxious figures expecting to pass their imperial exams and earn an academic certificate granted by the Emperor. A person with that certificate would be appointed a civil service officer. Most educated people had spent all their youth preparing for this annual event. She recalled an ancient story about a man named Fan Jin who had failed the exams several years in a row. When he had finally passed and received his certificate, he suffered a nervous breakdown.

  She was lost in the thought of the sad tale of Fan Jin when a young man appeared beside her. “Hello, are you going to the restaurant?”

  Confused, she asked, “Yes, how did you know?”

  The young man explained. “Yesterday, I saw you speaking to the American owner. I go there often.”

  Relieved that she wasn’t actually being watched or followed by any plainclothes policeman, Nina smiled and asked, “Why?”

  “I’m majoring in English. This small diner is a real window to the outside. Sometimes, students can discuss certain topics without fear of being reported. In addition, some of us like to practise speaking in English there. We call this place our ‘English Corner.’”

  Nina was curious. “What do you talk about?”

  “Everything. Freedom, love, money, success, passion, and education. You name it, and it’s open for discussion.”

  When they reached the restaurant, the student said, “Please, go ahead.” He stopped. “I’m going to the bookstore now. But you may run into Yueming here. She’s a top student.”

  After she bought some potato salad, Nina joined two young women at a table. It happened that one of them was, indeed, Yueming, from Daxing County near Beijing. She had been accepted in to the university by earning high scores on the entrance exams.

  “Did you start to learn English at high school?” asked Nina, as she looked at shiny-eyed Yueming.

  “I didn’t learn much in high school. I learned it from my former English teacher at elementary school,” Yueming said. Noticing the puzzled expression on Nina’s face, she explained. “In 1973, a fifteen-year-old student, Zhang Yuqin failed an English test, but her words, ‘without learning the a, b, c, I still can be a successor…’” Yueming paused, and then added, “She meant a successor to Mao’s revolutionary cause.” This became a catchphrase carried in newspapers everywhere in China and that school was then heralded as an example of revolutionary re-education. This was further compounded when another student, Huang Shuai, sent a letter to the Beijing Daily to complain about a teacher who had punished her, and this led to the criticism of the school system and also led to the demand for revisionist education. As a result, all teachers, especially teachers of English, were criticized by their students formally or informally all across China.” Yueming shook her head, and her bobbed hair trembled as if those unpleasant moments had returned. “Of course, English was no longer taught, among many other topics. And, indeed, no students dared express the desire to learn English, but I loved it. I didn’t want to give up. So I begged my teacher to tutor me in secret. That enabled me to be accepted at Peking University four years later. My former teacher was just great.” Yueming’s admiration for her teacher was so contagious that when she suggested visiting her teacher a few days after her last exam, Nina did not hesitate to join her on the trip to Daxing County.

  Nina and Yueming took a bus to the small village where Yueming’s family lived. They welcomed them with open arms and a small feast for dinner. The next afternoon, they decided to visit Yueming’s former elementary school. They waded through the bushes and pushed their way through the taller sorghum plants. Yueming said, “I walked this route to school daily for six years before going to university. When Teacher Gao started tutoring me, I would meet with her every Sunday morning.

  “Did she live at the school?”

  “Yes. Only a few single teachers lived in the school dormitory. On the weekend, everyone went home except her.”

  “Why didn’t she?”

  “She didn’t seem to have any family. She never mentioned them.”

  “Did she tutor you even when you went to high school?”

  “That’s right. Without her help, I wouldn’t be attending Peking University.”

  Finally, they reached a large field where a scraggly flock of chickens scratched in the weeds, while a variety of small birds hopped on the basketball playground nearby. A one-storey building came into view.

  Nina followed Yueming into the building. “Here’s Teacher Gao’s room,” she said, knocking on the flimsy wood door. A short-haired woman of about thirty opened it and greeted them warmly. “Come on in, Yueming,” Gao said. Her eyes, huge under thick glasses, fixated on Nina.

  “This is my new friend, Nina. She wants to see you.”

&nb
sp; “See me?” Gao asked, a puzzled look on her face.

  “You trained Yueming to be an English major,” Nina said, her eyes sweeping past the woman and taking in the scant furnishings. Nina felt like she was witnessing her own past. Nina’s heart opened. “Years ago, I was one of the sent-down youths. However, I was able to move to the United States and I have since graduated from an American university. I’m researching the experiences of my generation for a book I intend to write.”

  “How?” Gao’s eyes were wide open. “How did you get to America?”

  “My uncle’s there. I went to stay with his family.” Nina did not want to scare Gao. Sneaking across the border was considered a political crime, so she had to be cautious. If anyone from Public Security were to find out, Nina would be jailed.

  “My father also graduated from an American university,” Gao said. Her oval face beamed but clouded soon. She gestured for Nina and Yueming to sit on the edge of her bed. Then she boiled water in a pot. The smell of kerosene from the small metal stove spread in the air.

  “Where’s your father now?” asked Nina.

  “As a labelled ‘rightist,’ my father was sent to a faraway forced-labour camp at Jiabiangou Valley in Gansu Province. My mother divorced him in order to protect me from political discrimination. When the Cultural Revolution started, I was a freshman student in the English Department of Beijing Normal University. Soon, my mother was denounced as a ‘stinking bourgeoisie.’ Shortly afterward, she killed herself,” Gao said, her voice quivering. She bent to lift the boiling pot, filled it with tea leaves, and then poured the tea into mugs. She continued to talk about how she was dispatched to the countryside that same year to receive re-education from the peasants. Years later, the school needed teachers badly because they couldn’t find any, so she was recruited, but only on a temporary basis due to her tarnished family background. Gao explained that nobody wanted to be a teacher in those years, as they were labelled “Stinking Number Nines.” And, in any case, because the universities had been closed for several years, no students had graduated from normal schools or universities, so when schools reopened, they were forced to recruit high school graduates to be teachers.

  As Gao spoke, she laid two mugs of tea on a square stool in front of them. Then, she took a paper bag from a desk drawer and pulled out some almond cookies. “Help yourselves,” she said, turning to a chair near the stool and sitting down. The sunset emitted a soft glow through the window that reflected off her face. “Every cloud has a silver lining,” she said in a wistful tone that touched a chord in Nina’s heart.

  “Do you have any news to tell us?” Nina and Yueming asked Gao at the same time.

  “Yes! I’ve been accepted into a graduate program at Beijing Normal University.” She clasped her hands in front of her chest.

  Yueming gripped Gao’s arm. “I knew this day would come. I knew it!”

  “Congratulations!” Nina got up off the bed and put a hand on Gao’s shoulder. “Let’s celebrate. Is there a store around?” she asked. Maybe she could pick up a bottle of wine.

  “The store is far. And it’s already closed by now,” said Gao. “But we can make chicken soup.”

  Nina looked at the newspaper-covered walls made of mud bricks and the old shelves lined with various items. The only table was piled with exercise books to be marked. There was no sign of a refrigerator or a cooler. She suddenly remembered that most people in China did not have a refrigerator. At that moment, Yueming jumped up and ran outside. “We’ll have to catch a chicken first!” Gao followed laughing brightly.

  Aha! So that’s where the chicken comes from! Nina laughed out loud to as she ran with them into the field. With their arms held wide open, they chased a hen, pushing it into the corner of the building where the chicken coop, made of mud and a roof of branches, was located. The hen scurried into the coop. Dust swirled around. Yueming reached out and caught the hen from inside the shelter. The other chickens fluttered their wings in panic.

  Some time later, an enamel basin, covered by a wooden cutting board, sat on the kerosene stove. Eventually, the aroma of chicken soup spread over the spacious room. Later, shreds of cabbage from Gao’s own vegetable garden were added to the soup.

  “It smells so delicious.” Nina held up her bowl to her nose and took a deep whiff.

  “Maybe I should suggest that Sandra’s Chips add chicken soup to their menu,” Yueming said, grinning. She passed out some steamed buns she had brought from home to Nina and Gao. “They’re fresh, made of this year’s wheat.”

  “What is ‘Sandra’s Chips’?” asked Gao.

  “An American fast-food restaurant near my university. I’ll be working there starting next Monday,” Yueming said as she ate. “That’ll be something new. I’ll learn how to make money as a student.”

  “That’s a really new idea,” said Gao, exhilaration in her voice. Imagining her future life as a graduate student and thinking about the return to her hometown, Beijing, thrilled her. Her heart was full, and the two young women with her were delighted for her.

  As night fell, Gao took three stools from a classroom next door and placed them along the side of her bed. With abundant bedding added over the top of the stools, her bed was now king-sized. The electricity went off at eight o’clock. Gao lit a candle as usual. No wonder her eyesight is so poor, thought Nina.

  A cool breeze blew in through the window. Starlight also streamed in to bolster the candlelight. Gao’s story blended with the dim light. During her first four years in the countryside, she had worked with peasants to grow wheat and soybeans. She had aimed to forget about learning and teaching English and her past as well, with the idea that after the purgatory, she might once again have a bright future. In addition to the physical hardship of work on the farm, she had found her soul was empty despite Mao’s directives ringing in her head and revolutionary songs flooding her ears. It was only later, when she started to listen to English on the Voice of America, did her hellish world slowly fade away.

  “Now I feel like I’m in paradise,” Gao said, drawing in a long breath. “I’ll go look for my father right away after school finishes.”

  Nina asked, “When is the last time you saw him?”

  “Eighteen years ago. That was in 1960 when I was a seventh grader. He came back to Beijing to sign the divorce papers. He said he’d always love me no matter what became of him, but from then on, I should exclude his name whenever I filled out any forms. It was a way to let me evade any connection with him. In other words, being related to him could ruin my future. Luckily, I was accepted to a university in 1965 while many high-school graduates were rejected because of their undesirable family background. Only then could I understand why my parents had divorced. I thought I would find my father after my university graduation, but of course, that never transpired. And now, thirteen years have passed, and with those, my dream passed too.” Gao sighed. “I hope my father has survived.”

  Gao’s words touched Nina’s heart where indelible feelings were deeply buried. “I wish my father had lived to see today.” The scene of that downhearted day came to mind: her mother’s trembling hands embracing the dark rosewood box that held her father’s ashes. Nina had cried with her mother, staring at her father’s photograph on the front board of the small casket.

  Gao wrapped her arm gently around Nina’s shoulder. “I’m sorry to bring up this topic.”

  “I’m okay. I’ll keep my fingers crossed that you find your father.” Looking at Gao, she patted her on the back. “Those terrifying days are finally over. I feel relieved.”

  “So do I. Now tell me about your studies in the U.S.”

  Nina’s stories continued while the candle’s flame flickered in the dark and her companions listened attentively. Eventually, the candle’s light died out. It was before dawn; the first rooster crowed. Soon, a chorus of cocks would announce daybreak.

  22.


  IN THE NAME OF THE REVOLUTION

  AFTER SAYING GOODBYE and wishing Gao the best of luck, Nina and Yueming returned to Beijing on the Sunday afternoon. As planned, Liya joined Nina on campus.

  The following morning, while Yueming started her first day of work at Sandra’s Chips, Nina and Liya boarded the train to Hohhot City, the provincial capital of Inner Mongolia, one of the major provinces, to which an influx of youths from big cities had been dispatched. Rei’s classmate, Jing, was arranging some interviews for them.

  Nina remembered her previous experience of travelling, so she brought plenty of bottled water along with them in case water was unavailable on the train. The morning sunlight flashed through the open windows as the train glided past the open fields, and the breeze that streamed in cooled the warm air inside. The long-distance travellers dozed in their seats while the local passengers moved about carrying heavy baskets and fully loaded sacks. Some of them had just boarded the train, but others were ready to leave.

  Liya noticed Nina’s look of curiosity. “These people are vendors who go from town to town,” she explained. “They buy goods from this location and sell them in another.”

  Nina nodded. “I saw this the last time when I was in China visiting my mother. I think these people may well be tomorrow’s businessmen,” she added.

  “Maybe or maybe not,” said Liya. “Right now all they think about is how to make money by any means possible to them.”

  “If everybody thinks about getting rich, the whole country may become wealthy. Aiming to be rich isn’t necessarily a bad thing.”

  Liya picked up on Nina’s train of thought. “Do you think if people’s basic needs are met, they won’t be interested in the revolution?”

  “That’s right. I believe a peaceful evolution is happening right now.”

  Liya laughed. “It’s funny how we can be on the same wavelength even though we’re currently walking different paths in life.” By the way,” Liya said, pulling out a few folded pages from her handbag. “Can you read this and tell me what you think?”