The Garlic Ballads

by Mo Yan

  “Being an official has its own dangers. One slip and you re worse off than any peasant could possibly imagine.”

  A stalk of garlic snapped in two as she yanked it out of the ground. She whimpered.

  “Be careful,” Gao Yang grumbled. “Each one’s worth several fen.”

  “Why such a mean look?” His wife defended herself. “I didn’t do it on purpose.”

  “I didn’t say you did.”

  The police wagon passed through a red gateway and screeched to a halt, sending Gao Yang’s head sliding into the horse-faced young man. The scent of blood persisted, but the garlic smell was gone.

  CHAPTER 6

  A prefecture head who exterminates clans,

  A county administrator who wipes out families,

  No lightheaded banter from the mouths of power:

  You tell us to plant garlic, and that’s what we do—

  So what right have you not to buy our harvest?

  —from a ballad by Zhang Kou sung in front of the home

  of County Administrator Zhong after the glut

  1.

  She drifted in and out of consciousness as she lay across Gao Ma’s back, her arms wrapped tightly around his powerful neck. When they crossed Following Stream, leaving one county and entering another, she had sensed that all ties between her and the past, between her and her home, between her and her kin—if they still counted as such—had been cut with one stroke. She could no longer hear the shouts of her father and brother, but felt them on her back. Tipped with golden barbs, they danced in the air before flying across the river and snagging on the tips of jute bushes. With her eyes closed she could concentrate on the sound of Gao Ma’s body crashing through the jute field, so densely packed it stopped even the wind, creating the gentle sound of ocean waves.

  The jute was restless, parting like water to allow passage through it, then closing up at once. There were moments when she felt as if she were in a little boat—something she never had in real life—and when she opened her eyes, she was treated to a blindingly colorful panorama. So she shut her eyes again and experienced comfort built upon a foundation of exhaustion. Gao Ma’s labored breathing sounded like the snorts of a thundering bull as he loped through the jute, an endless expanse of supple, yielding fetters against which they forged an unveering path—at least that’s how she felt. In her mind, an enormous, bronze-colored sun was sinking slowly in a shrouded sky at the tip of a chaotic universe. A cluster of unfamiliar words leapt into the air—she neither understood nor recalled where she’d seen them before—and vanished as quickly as they had appeared, leaving behind the stately presence of heaven and earth. The jute bent gendy in the cool dusk winds, then waved lighdy before slowly righting itself; it was like a scarlet sea. She and her man had been transformed into fish that had forgotten how to swim.

  Jute, all you jute bushes, you re in his way, and in mine. Your green lips pout and your crafty, ebony eyes squint; you laugh with a strange mirthfulness, and you stretch your legs—smiling faces, treacherous limbs.

  Gao Ma stumbled and fell headlong to the ground, and as his body broke her fall, she felt the jute give beneath her. A sea of it swelled and crashed over them like tidal waves, swallowing them completely. Not daring to open her eyes, she tried to will herself into a state of torpor. The sounds of the world were pushed far into the distance, until all her senses were filled to bursting with the tenderness of jute.

  2.

  The roar of waves woke her, breaking over her persistently until she opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was Gao Ma’s gaunt face, framed in the rich orange rays of sunlight. His face was purple, his lips parched and cracked; there were dark circles around his eyes, and his hair looked like the wiry fur of a street mutt. Shuddering at the sight, she quickly became aware that her hand was in the tight grip of his, and as she gazed into his eyes, she felt as if a total stranger were grasping her hand. A sense of terror that swept through her was invaded by faint lurkings of guilt, the recognition of which further terrified her. She pulled her hand free and shrank from him, until her path of retreat was blocked by a tall and unyielding wall of jute. Golden slivers of sunlight seeped through the interstices of the jute wall, and the talon-shaped leaves quivered in some secret sign.

  It was Father’s voice, old and raspy: “Jinju … Jinju …” She sat up rigidly and grabbed Gao Mas hand. “Jinju … Jinju …” Elder Brother’s voice, shrill and flustered. Their calls glided over the tips of jute bushes and continued on toward the horizon. Gao Ma sat up, his eyes round and alert, like those of a cornered dog.

  They held their breath and listened intently. The rustling of bushes and the sounds of heavy breathing at the sandbar to the north deepened the stillness of dusk. She could hear her own heartbeat.

  “Jinju … Jinju … Jinju … Jinju! You little whore, you’re doing this to ruin me!” ?

  She could almost see her father crying. Releasing Gao Ma’s hand, she stood up with tears in her eyes.

  Father’s shouts were, if anything, drearier than ever. She called out just before Gao Ma clamped his hand over her mouth. The hand reeked of garlic—she clawed at it, her muffled shouts oozing out between the fingers. He wrapped his other arm around her waist and began dragging her away. She clawed at his head. As he sucked in his breath, the hand covering her mouth fell. Something wet and sticky emerged from under her fingernails as they dug into his scalp, and she watched trickles of golden-red blood appear at his hairline and flow into his eyebrows.

  She threw her arms around his neck. “You … what is it?” She was crying.

  He touched his forehead with his palm. “You scraped off a scab where the stool hit me.”

  Laying her head on his shoulder, she sobbed softly. “Elder Brother Gao Ma, it’s all my fault … I did this to you.”

  “It’s not your fault. I asked for it.” He paused. “Jinju, I see things more clearly now. You go back home.” He squatted down and held his head in his hands.

  “No … Elder Brother …” She knelt down and wrapped her arms around his knees. “My mind’s made up,” she said. “I’ll follow you anywhere, even if we have to beg to get by.”

  3.

  Night set in as the sun sank beneath the horizon. The jute tips were capped by an ethereal green mist, through which a dozen or so fist-sized stars peeked. Jinju twisted her ankle and fell. “Gao Ma,” she gasped. “I cant walk another step.

  He bent down and helped her up. “We have to keep moving. Your family will send people to find us.”

  “But I can’t walk anymore.…” By now she was crying.

  He let go of her arms and began pacing the area. Autumn insects chirped amid the jute; a dog barked in a distant village.

  Jinju lay on her back in a daze. Her ankle was swelling and her legs ached. “Get some sleep,” he said. “There must be five thousand acres of jute here, and the only way they could find us would be to use police dogs. Close your eyes and get some sleep.”

  She awoke during the middle of the night. The sky was filled with stars, all winking mysteriously. Heavy pearl drops of dew splashed noisily on jute leaves that had fallen to the ground. Insects chirped more loudly than ever, setting up a racket like the plucking of lute strings by a bamboo pick. A sound like shifting sand rose from the floor of the jute field. This must be what it’s like to sail the ocean, she thought, lying on her back. The jute had an acrid smell that scooped up the rank aroma of moist earth as it leapt from the ground. A pair of night birds circled above, the flapping of their wings and their eerie screeches penetrating the thickening mist. She tried to roll over, but her body seemed weighted down, turned to stone. A myriad of tiny, thin sounds rose from the field, as if mysterious little creatures were prancing and tiptoeing among the jute plants, from which phosphorescent eyes glimmered and winked. Her terror returned.

  Mustering all her strength, Jinju staggered to her feet. The cold autumn-night air had chilled her to the bone, numbing her limbs with the dampness of the grou
nd. She was suddenly reminded of something her mother had told her: sleeping on damp ground in misty night air is an open invitation to leprosy. Mother’s face flashed before her eyes, giving rise to remorse: no heated kang to sleep on, no scurrying mice in the rafters, no crickets chirping in the corner of the wall, and none of Elder Brother’s talking in his sleep or Second Brother’s snores in the next room. She stood as if her body had ceased to function, her thoughts fixated on her cozy, smoky kang. Frightened by thoughts of the night around her and of the day to come, she suddenly saw herself as absurd and Gao Ma as loathsome.

  Her eyes had grown accustomed to the dark, and now stars shimmered brighdy, some of the light turning pale green as it reflected off of the jute leaves and stalks. She looked at Gao Ma, who was sitting up only three paces away, his hands clasped around his knees to pillow his head. He neither moved nor made a sound, like a figure carved of stone. At that moment they were separated by an immense gulf, and she felt alone as, one by one, the green eyes around drew nearer and nearer, and the crisp tramping of dry leaves by tiny paws rattled in her ears. Behind her lay a blanket of cold air, as icy snouts nuzzled the nape of her neck. A scream tore from her throat—she couldn’t help herself.

  Gao Ma leapt to his feet and ran in a circle; the jute crackled like burning oil, and a line of little green lights flew around him like a spinning hoop. “What’s wrong? What is it?”

  This was a man, not a cold, dark rock on a reef, and his panic snapped her out of her imaginings. Waves of cold air behind her drove her into his arms; into the heat from his body

  “Elder Brother Gao Ma, I’m scared, and I’m cold….”

  “Don’t be scared, Jinju, I’m right here.”

  He held her tightly, and the strength of his arms rekindled long-dormant memories. Only months before he had held me like this and pressed his bristly mouth against mine. But now she had neither the will nor the strength to answer the call of his burning lips, which reeked of moldy garlic.

  She twisted her stiff neck around and hugged him tightly. “I’m cold … numb all over.…”

  Gao Ma loosened his grip, and her knees buckled. He picked up her coat from where she had lain, and as he shook it out, green flashes spilled into the surrounding jute, swelling and shrinking, brightening and fading.

  Gao Ma draped the coat over her shoulders. Made heavy by the wet night air, it gave off the rank odor of a foul dogskin. He laid her down on the ground to massage her limbs with his callused hands. Each finger and toe, every muscle and tendon was rubbed and massaged, her joints pinched and prodded. Electric currents spread from each spot his hands touched. A warmth flowed from her feet to her head and back down to her feet. Closing her eyes to mere slits, she reached out to catch the green sparkles that floated about his naked back, which was thin and bony. But what she found most enticing were his dark, pea-sized, manly nipples, which she suddenly felt compelled to pinch.

  Sometimes he kneaded her muscles with strong pressure, sometimes his hand barely brushed her skin; sometimes he pinched her joints hard, and sometimes he scarcely prodded them. Her breathing grew heavier, her heart began to race, and she purged her mind of things she had been thinking about only a moment earlier. His body felt cold and damp next to her heat. His breath came in chilled puffs, now with a slight minty odor. She was tense with anticipation.

  As his fingers peeled away her skin, she reacted with a mixture of fear and curiosity, raising her arms as if wanting to protect something. But his rough hands were now caressing her breasts, sending shivers up her spine and pulling her skin taut, as jolts of electricity coursed through her body.

  All around him green dots flickered; they stuck to the jute bushes, they danced, they flew, they described wobbly, dense, lovely arcs…. He was nearly encased in those green sparkles, which showed up even on his teeth.

  She heard herself moan.

  So many green sparkles, so many fireflies. They sizzled as they flew through the air. She arched her spine, grabbing at his back as if she were snaring the sparkles fighting on him. “They’re not green all the time. Watch them change color: now they’re a deep scarlet… now green … now scarlet … green again … and finally a shimmering blanket of gold….”

  They didn’t wake up until the dark few moments before dawn. Only nesded in his arms did she feel real; as soon as she left his embrace, everything had form, but no substance.

  “You must be exhausted, Elder Brother. Are you feeling all right?”

  His mouth was next to her ear, into which he breathed puffs of minty air.

  The stars, tiny shards of jade green, blinked in the pale sky. The mist was getting heavier; so, too, was the rank odor of damp earth. Insects, worn out after a night of chirping, were quiedy asleep. No sounds emerged from the frozen faces of jute bushes. With the rumbling of waves in her ears, her eyelids damp and sticky, she buried her head in the crook of his arm, where she fell into a deep sleep, her arms wrapped tighdy around his neck.

  Dawn was announced by the cries of birds. Dewy pearl drops draped the deep-green jute leaves, which, reenergized, pointed sharply heavenward. The stalks—deep red, occasionally light yellow—stood straight and tall. The early-morning sun sent bright-red rays slicing earthward to light up Gao Ma’s face. It was a thin face, but clear and alert. An irrepressible glint of happiness shone in his eyes. At this moment he knew she couldn’t be apart from him even for a minute. His strength drew her to him like a magnet, until her eyes followed his every move. Thoughts of the night that had just passed set her heart pounding and the blood rushing to her face. Once again she threw herself into his arms, unable to control her emotions, and nibbled at his neck. Greedily she swallowed her saliva mixed with his salty, sweaty grime. When she bit down on his carotid artery she felt its powerful throbbing, a sensation that transported her to a world of enchantment and wonder, where she lost control over herself. She bit, she sucked, she nuzzled his skin with her lips, and as she did, she felt her internal organs open up like new flowers. “Elder Brother Gao Ma,” she said, “Elder Brother Gao Ma, nothing could make me regret any of this, not death itself!”

  The dewy pearls splashed to the ground; now the branches seemed coated with a layer of oil that produced a dazzling sheen, and out of the earth rose a steamy dampness. From somewhere behind them came the cry of a spotted quail, a drawn-out, oppressive sound, as if, in some magical way, the bird had thrust its beak into the earth to muffle its cry. Another quail returned the call from somewhere in front. The early-morning air seemed to hang motionless, holding the jute bushes fast in its grip, like a coral reef standing inert in a sea of red.

  He pushed her away. “We should eat something,” he said.

  She smiled and lay back, gazing up at the chaotic green sparkles and shards of golden-red sunlight. She was raptly concentrating on a hidden spot in the recesses of her mind where the sound of swelling tides remained, distant and mysterious. Wishing she could immerse herself forever in that realm, she lay perfecdy still and held her breath; the sparkles, like tiny globules of quicksilver, froze in space and quivered briefly, as if to show they could glide away at any moment.

  “Come on, get up and eat,” Gao Ma said, shaking her wrist. He took some flatcakes and garlic out of his cloth bundle. After pinching the dry, withered tips and bulb ends of the stalks, leaving only the fresh-green middle parts, he rolled six of them into one of the flatcakes and handed it to Jinju.

  She shook her head, for she was still immersed in the joyful feelings of a moment before and wanted to hold them for as long as possible. The pungent smell of garlic put her on edge—over time she had grown to hate its smell.

  “Eat something, so we can get moving again,” Gao Ma said.

  Reluctantly she took the rolled flatcake, but waited until he had begun eating his before taking her first tentative bite. The thin cake was hard and resistant as a frozen rag. Gao Mas jaw was grinding, his cheeks twitching, and she heard the raw, cold garlic crunch sickeningly in his mouth. She bit down on
her garlic, which cracked coldly, like bamboo being sliced by a knife. Her mouth filled with saliva; but her heart, now raw and cold, puckered inside her.

  Gao Ma wolfed down his food, grunting raspily as he chewed. He farted loudly. Turning her face away in disgust, she tossed her rolled flatcake back into the blue bundle, where it spread open to reveal its garlicky contents.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked anxiously, a string of garlic fiber caught between his teeth.

  “Nothing. You eat,” she answered softly. His garlicky breath again made her aware of the gap between them.

  Once he had finished off his own flatcake, Gao Ma reached into the bundle and took hers out. “You don’t have to eat this if you don’t want to,” he said as he rerolled it. “I’ll buy you something more edible when we reach Pale Horse Township.”

  “Where are we going, Gao Ma?”

  “When we reach Pale Horse Township we’ll take a bus to Lanji and catch a train for the Northeast, I’m sure your brothers and the rest of them are waiting for us at Paradise Station.” His voice took on a sinister tone as he continued: “We’ll make sure their scheme fails.”

  “What will we do in the Northeast?” she asked, somewhat dazed.

  “We’ll go to Magnolia County in Heilongjiang. One of my army comrades is the deputy county administrator. He can help us find work,” Gao Ma said, showing he’d thought things out. He turned his attention to the second rolled cake, which he began eating as he released another resounding fart.

  She giggled, even though she didn’t know what was so funny.

  Gao Ma blushed. “I’ve lived alone too long,” he said bashfully. “Don’t laugh at me.”

  Immediately forgiving, she said as if talking to a child, “You’re no different than other people. Anyone who eats grain knows what it’s like to pass wind.”

  “Even women? I can’t imagine a pretty thing like you farting.”