Red Scarf Girl

by Ji-Li Jiang

I shook my head quickly.

  “You think it over. If you think of something, you can always come to talk to us,” he said.

  AN EDUCABLE CHILD

  Grandma cried whenever she thought about Dad, and Mom was not getting any better, so I stayed home to help. White Ji-yong and Ji-yun were in school during the day, I shopped and sewed and worried. It was hard for me to keep my mind off Dad and the scene-shop foreman’s threats.

  The German clock struck four times. I was finishing the last sleeve of a jacket for Ji-yun before starting to make dinner when I heard a soft voice calling me from the alley. Who could it be? An Yi always came directly upstairs, and none of my junior high school friends knew where I lived. I put down the sleeve and went to the French window.

  It was Lin-lin, eye-catching in her yellow corduroy jacket. She was shivering in the freezing wind. After a false spring the weather had turned cold again.

  “This is a surprise,” I said as I led her inside. “How did you get my address?”

  “From Teacher Zhang. He wanted somebody to bring you a message about a meeting at school tomorrow, and I volunteered. You haven’t been to school for days. I wondered if you were sick or something.” She gave me her shy smile and fidgeted with the fringe of her scarf as if expecting a reproach.

  I gave her a glass of hot water to warm her up.

  “You’re sewing?” she said when she saw the patterns and cloth spread all over the bed and table.

  “Uh-huh.” I smiled and nodded.

  “You can sew? Did you make all these? Did your mom teach you how?”

  I laughed. “No one taught me.” I showed her the instruction book that I had found in a bookstore. “I learned from here. I just make a paper pattern, and when it looks right I pin it to the cloth and cut.”

  “That’s great! I tried to learn once, but I just couldn’t do it. I tried so hard to make a dress, but in the end I had to ask my mother to finish it for me.”

  My shoulders were aching from bending over the sewing machine all day, and I swung my arms back and forth to relax them. “If you had to do it, you’d learn.” I meant what I said. If Lin-lin’s family had to live on just sixty yuan a month, and half of their clothes had been confiscated, she would learn to sew too.

  She blinked her eyes and changed the subject. “Why haven’t you come to school all this time?”

  “My mom’s been sick.”

  “Is it serious?”

  “Yes. She has Mèniére’s syndrome. Sometimes she gets so dizzy that she passes out.”

  “My mother has intestinal angina. When she gets an attack, her belly hurts so much that she rolls around on her bed.”

  Before I could answer, Ji-yong walked in, with Grandma following him eagerly.

  “How was it? Did you see your dad?” Grandma did not even notice our presence.

  Ji-yong gloomily shook his head. “In the reception room they were packing apples to sell to the staff, and I asked them if I could buy some for Dad. One of them said, ‘Buy apples for your father? You think he’s in the hospital or something?’ and they all laughed. I’m never going back there.”

  I looked at Lin-lin with embarrassment. She immediately stood up and said, “It’s late. I’d better be going.”

  I went downstairs to see her off. Neither of us spoke.

  “Thanks for coming.” I opened the door for her.

  “Oh, I almost forgot. Here is your math exercise notebook. I put the assignment sheet in it. Don’t forget the meeting tomorrow. Four o’clock in the auditorium.”

  My hand was still on the doorknob. Suddenly, without thinking, I said, “My dad has been detained for interrogation.”

  I surprised myself when I said it. I had not meant to tell her, and I did not know why I trusted her so much after such a short time.

  We looked at each other for a while. Finally she said softly, “I understand. Our house was searched too.”

  She turned and walked away. I watched her doll-like figure retreating through the cold wind, and somehow I felt much warmer.

  The meeting had already begun when I arrived at the auditorium. 1 sat down right by the door. The leader of the school Revolutionary Committee, Chairman Jin, was making a speech on the current revolutionary situation. On the stage beside him were Teacher Hou, a Revolutionary Committee member, and, to my surprise, Chang Hong.

  What sort of meeting was this? I looked around to see who was there. There were several Red Guard Committee members and key people from the propaganda group, along with several members of the Revolutionary Performance Team and the Mao Ze-dong Thought Study Group. Bai Shan was sitting near the door, bending over the paper in his lap.

  Was this about the propaganda group again? I had told Chang Hong once already that I wouldn’t join. No, that would not require such a formal meeting. While I was still guessing, Chairman Jin finished his summary of the steadily improving revolutionary situation.

  “Comrades.” He suddenly raised the pitch of his voice. “In order to support the Cultural Revolution and promote class struggle, our school’s Red Guard Committee has decided to make a Class Education Exhibition to expose the class enemies’ evil and remind us of the misery of the old society and our happiness today. This will inspire our students’ revolutionary enthusiasm and further promote the Cultural Revolution in our school.

  “Every student here today was handpicked for both academic and political excellence. You will represent all the teachers and students of our school when we celebrate the Communist Party Birthday on July first….”

  Academic and political excellence? There must have been a mistake. Even though my classmates didn’t know me very well, the teachers certainly knew about my family background. My personal file recorded everything. I imagined the sneers. “Political excellence? A black whelp criticizing landlords?”

  In the middle of Chang Hong’s speech on behalf of the Red Guard Committee, 1 slipped unnoticed out of the auditorium and headed for Teacher Zhang’s office.

  The stairway in the old office building was dark and narrow. At a landing I almost bumped into someone coming down. It was Teacher Zhang himself.

  “Teacher Zhang,” I stammered, caught unprepared. “I… I was coming to see you.”

  “Oh? Is there something I can help you with? Would you like to come to my office?”

  “That’s all right. It won’t take long.” I swallowed and calmed down a little. “I was told to attend the meeting about the exhibition. Did you know that?” I started cautiously.

  “I was the one who suggested your name. Did you go? How was it?” he asked lightly.

  “Oh. The meeting was fine, but… but…” I struggled to find the appropriate words. “But I’m not really a leader, am I?” I shook my head slightly and tried to smile.

  He didn’t answer my question. “I was told you were in the Children’s Arts Troupe. Is that true?”

  “Um…”

  “Your Mandarin is excellent, and you won several speech contests. Is that right?”

  “Well, that was in primary school, a long time ago…. How did you know?” I felt like he was cornering me.

  “I think you’re the perfect one to represent our class as a guide at the exhibition.”

  “Oh, no, no!” I blurted out. My own grandfather was a landlord. How could I condemn the evil landlords of the old society? What if Yin Lan-lan or Du Hai saw me?

  “Teacher Zhang, I’m sure there’s someone in our class who can do a better job. You’d better find someone else.”

  “I’ve thought it over. I think you are the best one. Jiang Ji-li, this is an important political assignment. I hope you will accept it and try to win honor for our class. AH right?”

  I almost lost the courage to refuse again, but I thought of my landlord grandfather, of Dad detained at the theater.

  “Teacher Zhang, did… did you ever look at my file?” It took an effort to ask the question. If he knew about the speech contests, then he must know about Grandpa and about the Red Guards s
earching our apartment.

  His face was expressionless as he moved his hand from the railing and put it in his pocket. He did not reply immediately.

  “We cannot choose our families or our class sums. But we can choose our own futures.” He spoke very slowly and clearly. “No, you are not a leader, but you are still an ‘educable child.’ You can overcome your family background.” He paused. “You have self-esteem, and you always try to excel. That’s why I believe you are brave enough to face and eventually overcome the difficulties of life.”

  It was very dark on the stairs. Everything appeared dim except for his piercing, shining eyes. I felt an older brother’s sincerity and trust in his look. “‘Brave enough to face and eventually overcome the difficulties of life,’” I repeated to myself, and felt something catch in my throat.

  “I’ll do it,” I said simply, and walked away. I was afraid I would cry if I said another word.

  The sun was setting, and the western sky was a sheet of gold and rose. I stopped, my heart full of awe at the immensity of the world.

  I had wanted to give up. I had almost stopped trying to be brave, to be an educable child. I saw another part of myself, a part full of fear that I had to struggle against. I would not allow myself to stop trying to follow Chairman Mao. Whatever my family background was, I would overcome all difficulties. My future would be bright.

  As it grew dark, the whole city seemed to slow down. The school, too, was no longer its bustling daytime self. Only the propaganda group office was ablaze with light, like a brightly lit cabin in the middle of a dark and silent forest.

  On the other side of the room Bai Shan and some other boys were painting a picture in preparation for the Class Education Exhibition. We girls were sitting around a big table, gluing dyed millet grains onto a huge sheet of paper to make a portrait of Chairman Mao.

  “It’s taken us six hours just to finish two eyebrows and the ears. This is going to be a long job!” a girl said. She spoke quickly and loudly, sounding just like her nickname, Ducky.

  “If I’d known that it was going to take this long, I would have said let’s just draw something,” Fang Fang grumbled.

  “Come on, we all agreed to do this.” Chang Hong moved quickly to put down the disagreement. She pointed at Ducky with her tweezers. “You said that we should do something new and different.” She turned to Fang Fang. “And you said that the three-dimensional millet grains would look better and show our loyalty to Chairman Mao better than a drawing. Do you remember?”

  “I didn’t say I wanted to quit. I just said it’s slow,” Ducky said sulkily.

  “We’d better stop arguing and get back to work,” I said. “Otherwise we’ll never finish.” I looked up at the boys’ table and hoped that they were not laughing at our squabbling.

  “Let’s take a break,” Chang Hong suggested. “Have some steamed buns while I go make some tea. If we just march on resolutely, we are bound to succeed.” She threw a bag of buns on the table and ran out.

  No one said anything. Ducky took a bun and bit into it.

  That afternoon we couldn’t wait to start. We had all bustled around boiling water and dying millet and getting snacks. The enthusiasm had reminded me of the glorious revolutionary activities that I had seen in the movies. We were proud to be part of the revolution, excited to be doing such an important job. Now, only a few hours later, the enthusiasm had completely disappeared. We had not anticipated that the job would take so long. Now it seemed that we would have to work all night to finish before tomorrow’s meeting.

  I couldn’t help yawning. This would be the fourth time I had worked all night since we had started to prepare the exhibition. Although it was months away, there were so many things to do, so many deadlines to meet: deciding on the contents of the exhibition, writing the script, designing the layout, decorating the exhibition hall… I was amazed at how I could do so much and still leave time for study and housework.

  “Jiang Ji-li,” one of the boys called me. I was surprised to find that it was Bai Shan. It was the first time that I had ever heard him call me by name. “The painting is done. When Chang Hong comes back, tell her we’ve gone home.” He started to go, then stopped and gestured toward the painting. “Don’t touch it. It’s not dry yet.”

  As soon as the boys left, we rushed to look at their picture. It was a Chinese ink painting. The rising sun was spreading its rays and a rooster was crowing loudly and joyfully.

  “‘The Rooster Sings, for the East Is Turning Red,’” Ducky read loudly. “Wow, what a great picture!”

  “And the handwriting is so beautiful too,” I added. “Bai Shan is really talented, isn’t he? He does everything so well.”

  “You like him, don’t you, Ji-li? I think he likes you too. He’s always looking at you,” Ducky said suddenly.

  “Don’t be so childish,” I snapped. Having my name connected with a boy’s was the last thing I needed. Things were hard enough as it was. “Spare me your dirty gossip, all right?”

  Just in time, Chang Hong came rushing in. “Here’s the tea. What’s up? Oh, they’re finished? Let me have a look.” She elbowed her way to the front.

  “What do you think? It’s really wonderful, isn’t it?” Ducky gushed.

  “Hmm…” Chang Hong considered. “Why isn’t the sun painted red? Since the title is ‘The Rooster Sings, for the East Is Turning Red,’ the sun should be red, shouldn’t it?” Her hand was almost touching the painting.

  Ever since Bai Shan had left self-study class that day, Chang Hong had seemed to disapprove of him. She was, after all, a Red Guard Committee member, and she suspected him of disrespect toward Chairman Mao.

  I gently moved her hand away. “This is an ink painting. It only uses black ink.”

  By three o’clock in the morning we could hardly stay awake. Tea and snacks could no longer stimulate our exhausted minds. We yawned in turn, as if we were counting off in formation. As soon as Chang Hong suggested that we take turns sleeping, Ducky and Fang Fang leaned their heads on the table and fell fast asleep. Chang Hong and I washed our faces in cold water and soldiered on toward Chairman Mao’s collar.

  Outside our office the world seemed to disappear. The dark silence seemed to gradually thicken, until even time could not move as usual. Each minute seemed endless. My eyes were dry and heavy, and I could not control my hands. I had to try over and over to pick up each grain of millet. I wished I could go home to sleep under my own warm quilt.

  Home… I sighed.

  There was still no news about Dad. Mom had secretly asked Uncle Tian for information, but all we knew was that Dad still refused to confess and had been the victim of several struggle meetings- I could not chink of those meetings without thinking of the scene-shop foreman’s icy stare. I could not help wondering what Dad had done.

  I sighed again.

  “What’s the matter?” Chang Hong raised her sleepy eyes.

  “Oh, I’m just sleepy I guess.”

  A moment later Chang Hong said to me softly, “Ji-li, I envy you so much.”

  “Envy me? Why?” I was surprised beyond politeness.

  “You’re so good in school, and so talented—”

  “Oh, that doesn’t mean anything.” Looking into her earnest eyes, I blurted out, “I envy you. You have such a good family, and such a good political status.”

  She looked down at the table blankly. After a long while she spoke again, slowly and softly. “My brother has epilepsy. He’s eleven, but he can’t dress himself or feed himself.” She paused. “He has seizures every day, at least one or two, sometimes more.”

  “That’s terrible!” I could say nothing more.

  “I love him very much.” She raised her eyes again to look at me. “I’m his favorite. Sometimes he won’t eat when my mother tries to feed him, but if I do it, he will.”

  I could hardly believe that this person was the revolutionary Chang Hong 1 knew.

  “Will he… will he die?” I could not stop myself from
asking.

  She looked down at the table again. It seemed like a long time before she answered. “The doctors say he won’t live past his teens. We just don’t know. He’s not in very good shape these days.”

  “Why don’t you stay home with him? In case…”

  “I’ve thought about that.” She looked away from my face to the litter on the table. “But we can’t allow personal matters to interfere with revolutionary duties. Especially for an important political assignment like the exhibition.”

  Watching her sincere and earnest eyes, I completely forgot that she was a Red Guard Committee member. Through the quiet of the early morning we talked and talked, like friends or sisters.

  By the time our classmates arrived at school the next morning, we had finally completed the picture—made with thousands of millet grains and thousands of yawns. But we could not enjoy our accomplishment or the praise of teachers and classmates. We put our heads on the table and fell fast asleep.

  HALF-CITY JIANGS

  Finally, one May evening, Uncle Tian brought us some thrilling news: Dad was cleared of the charge of listening to foreign radio.

  It turned out that Uncle Zhu—not Uncle Fan—was to blame. Uncle Zhu had been detained himself, and had wanted to improve his own situation by cooperating with the investigation. He had made up the story about the foreign radio, thinking that if he confessed to something, he would be treated with leniency. When Dad steadily denied his participation, the theater people got angrier and angrier. They pressed Uncle Zhu for details. He stupidly told them that he and Dad had used a transistor radio, which they had buried in Zhu’s courtyard. The theater people went straight to Zhu’s house and tore up the courtyard looking for the evidence, but they found nothing. They were furious and gave Uncle Zhu a good beating. Finally he admitted to making up the whole story.

  What a terrible mart, I thought, worse than a traitor. At least a traitor betrays people by telling the truth. Uncle Zhu tried to save himself by telling lies.

  We were all overjoyed that Dad would be coming home. Grandma was in tears, and she could not stop thanking Allah for his blessing. Mom seemed much better, and Ji-yun kept pestering Grandma to buy shrimp, Dad’s favorite food, for his homecoming. For the first time in my life I thought maybe there really was a God who had heard the prayers Grandma had been saying every night since Dad had been detained.