The Long March Home

by Zoë S. Roy

  “White-skinned piglets, from dark pigsties!” Two other boys joined the chant.

  Neither girl dared to answer back, so they hid themselves among other girls.

  “Brown pigs!” howled Yao, stamping her foot. “Dare you confront me? If I catch you, your lives will be short!” Her strong voice swept over the shore and eventually frightened away the boys who had been teasing them.

  “We should get suntans.” Yezi clasped Jian’s hand. “Then they won’t call us names.”

  “Yeah, but let’s follow other kids into the water first.” Jian moved along with several older swimmers.

  “Wait a minute.” Yao pulled Yezi’s arm, drawing her close. She tied one end of a long rope around Yezi’s waist and gripped the other end. “You can go into the water now,” she said.

  Yezi plodded into the lake with Jian. Each time she squatted down into the water, Yao would yank her up. Yao’s rope drew attention from children, who giggled and pointed at Yezi’s awkward bobbing motions. Yezi didn’t protest. She knew Yao would keep her safe. She hadn’t forgotten falling into the water on their way to the islet. And she was still a little bit afraid of the water.

  As Yezi and Jian waded out further, other swimmers played noisily around them, splashing and laughing under the hot sun. Yezi couldn’t keep her eyes open because of all the splashing water. She simply flapped her arms, which made Jian laugh and scream. In the end, an older girl volunteered to show them how to hold their breath underwater.

  A month passed. By the end of the summer, Yezi had learned to float and could swim with her head under the water.

  In the meantime, Yezi’s silkworms shed their skins a second time. They grew longer and fleshier so that she had to move some of them to a bigger box. One more moulting would make them mature eough to start spinning silk threads.

  On a Friday afternoon, just before the start of the new school year, Yezi and Jian sneaked into the library’s reading room one last time. The two eager readers explored the library for a couple of hours, searching the stacks and devouring any books that caught their attention. On the way home from the library, they noticed several boys squatting on the sidewalk, a few marbles scattered around them. A list of figures was scribbled in chalk to record each player’s points. When Yezi accidentally stepped over a chalk mark, a sly voice yelled, “Hey! You white skinned-piglets!” Scowling, Tao, the bully, shouted, “You are on my territory.”

  “We are sorry,” Jian answered.

  Tao grabbed a handful of dirt and angrily tossed it at them. “Get lost!”

  Linking her arm with Jian’s, Yezi pulled her away and said, “Ignore him.”

  “You won’t get away with this!” Tao said, snatching a branch from a hedge to attack them. He hollered, “Stinking mongrels!” One whip of the branch struck Yezi; another hit Jian.

  Yezi’s neck ached from the blow, but her fury surged. Turning her head, she propelled her body forward, ready to pummel him with her fists. Shocked by her sudden reaction, Tao leaped back. His branch dropped. Yezi picked it up and screamed with anger, “Touch us again and I’ll beat you up!”

  His hands over his head, Tao turned around to flee, but not before howling, “American mongrel!”

  Yezi ran after him, forgetting he was teenage bully that most of the children feared. All she wanted was to catch him and hit him with all her strength. The other children who had stopped to watch cheered her along: “Go! Go! Get him!”

  Taller and faster than Yezi, Tao dashed into the auditorium. Yezi, the mad warrior continued to chase him although she knew she would never catch up with him. Jian’s voice, calling, “Stop it, Yezi!” grew distant.

  By the time Yezi reached the entrance to the auditorium, Tao had already reached the first row of the seats, and was still running. Tossing the branch away, she picked up a fist-sized stone she had spotted at the door and flung it into the empty hall. Its thumping echoed. Tao got away from her by running out another exit. She kept pumping her legs as fast as she could, making her way through the rows of seats. By the time Yezi emerged out the other door, Tao, panting like a dog, had escaped.

  For the first time, Yezi felt strong. All her fear and anger vanished. Jian darted toward her and grabbed her arm. “You really scared me,” she said, breathing hard from her own frantic dash to the auditorium.

  Wiping tears and sweat off her face with shaky hands, Yezi chuckled, “I’ll never be afraid of him again.” The next instance, she felt a searing pain in her elbow; she had knocked it several times against the auditorium’s hard seats.

  That night she fell fast asleep. In her dream she saw her mother watching her from the distance, a glint in her eyes. Mama knows everything. She saw me falling into the water. And she saw me fighting with the bully. Yezi tried to speak to her mother, but could not make any sounds.

  13.

  FAMILY ENTERPRISE

  ON THE MONDAY MORNING, SEPTEMBER 1, 1975, Yezi went to school to show the teacher all the homework she had done over the summer. After waiting in line for a while in the classroom, Yezi got her turn. Teacher Huang browsed through Yezi’s exercise books and then ticked her name off on the roster. “Well done. Hand in six yuan tomorrow for the tuition fee.” She returned the exercise books to Yezi and nodded to the next waiting student.

  Yezi walked home alone, wondering why Jian was not at school. A girl’s voice rose from behind her, “Hey you!”

  Fang, her classmate, who had had repeated the same grade last year, walked toward her. Taller than Yezi, Fang easily draped her arm around Yezi’s shoulder. “We’re going in the same direction.”

  Yezi found Fang’s arm heavy, but she was too shy to decline the friendly gesture. The older girl led her into a garden and motioned to Yezi to join her on a stone stool under a large French plane tree. “Can I take a look at your exercise books?” she asked, taking Yezi’s bag before Yezi could even respond.

  “No problem,” said Yezi, surprised and flattered by Fang’s friendliness.

  Fang unbuttoned Yezi’s bag and reached inside for the exercise books. She quickly thumbed the pages of one of the books. “Can you wait here? I need to go to a washroom right now. I’ll read your books on my way there,” Fang said, pulling a piece of candy out of her pocket and handing it to Yezi. Then she walked away. Yezi sucked happily on the hard candy as she waited for Fang in the garden. The candy finished, Yezi roamed the small garden, admiring the blooming flowers: wine-red peonies, yellow-hooded foxgloves and purple catmint. But her new friend never reappeared so, puzzled, she decided to go home.

  The following morning, when Yezi got to school, Teacher Huang called her to the office. “Where are your assignments?”

  Yezi told her what had happened the day before.

  “Here they are.” Drawing the two books from a pile on her desk, the teacher said, “Don’t lend your books to anybody again, okay?”

  “Yes,” Yezi dutifully replied, but did not understand how her books had ended up on the teacher’s desk.

  After that, Yezi never saw Fang in class, but learned from her brother that Fang had tried to claim Yezi’s summer homework as her own.

  On Saturday night Yezi and her brother went to bed earlier than usual. Yao had told them she would need their help the next morning with what she called a “family enterprise” to ensure their basic survival. Yezi was excited just thinking about using her reward for helping to buy treats like candy, gum, sweet and sour olives or ice cream. She could already smell the aroma of sweet and sour olives, and it made her mouth water in anticipation.

  After breakfast, Yao loaded a borrowed cart. “Sang, hold onto this so I can tie the rope.”

  Frowning at the crumpled paper and cardboard in different sizes packed tightly in the cart, Sang asked, “What are you going to do with this junk?”

  “We need cash for food.” Yao knotted the r
ope tautly around the stacks as she steadied her knee against the load. To make ends meet, Yao had to sell all the recyclable waste she had collected. “You hold tight. Yezi, push here.”

  “But you just got money from Baba last week,” Sang said, pressing his hands on the pile. “I don’t need anything new for school.”

  “That money was used to pay your tuition fees. Besides, I borrowed three yuan from Ling some time ago, and I still haven’t paid her back.”

  “But you told me she said you didn’t need to pay her back.”

  “It doesn’t matter what she said; I don’t want to owe anybody. A Buddhist doesn’t keep anything that doesn’t belong to her” said Yao, locking the door behind her. She shoved the chairs and stools under the table beneath the eavestrough. “Let’s go. You two push on the back of the cart if I get stuck.”

  Sang hesitated for a moment, and then strode purposefully toward Yao. Taking the handle from her hands, he said firmly, “I can pull the cart.”

  “Are you sure?” Yao asked, a smile of relief playing about her lips. “Okay. But please put these gloves on,” she said. As Sang pulled the cart, Yao helped push it to the side as they plodded along the road.

  At the recycling depot where used newspapers, cardboard, bottles and cans were collected and stacked, the dusty air and stale odours made them sneeze. Yao sold the cartload for 9.24 yuan, from which she gave 24 fen to Yezi and 50 fen to Sang. “Go get your treats. Then we’ll go and get some coal.”

  “I don’t need anything right now. I’ll stay here with you,” answered Sang, pocketing his coins. He intended to save them for a book he wanted to buy. “Yezi, you go get your stuff,” he huffed proudly, and waved her away.

  Yezi ran happily into the street. Bicyclists passed by shoppers clutching baskets or handbags. Some people crowded around vendors; others came in and out of the stores that sat amid the houses along the alley. A number of trees provided some welcome shade for the crowds. After spotting a sign for ice cream, Yezi dodged the gaggles of shoppers and reached the ice cream stand, panting.

  “What would you like?” asked the vendor, popping her head out from the opening. “Twenty fen for a cone. Do you want one?”

  Yezi fingered the coins in her pocket, trying to make up her mind. “Does an ice stick cost four fen?”

  “You don’t have enough money for ice cream?” asked the vendor, a lopsided grin on her face. “How about getting two ice sticks?”

  “Yes, and sweet and sour olives. Is five fen enough for a packet?” she asked, passing twenty fen to the vendor, who nodded. She took her treats along with the change, and like a baby bird that luckily caught itself some worms, Yezi flew down the street.

  Her face was red and bathed in sweat when she handed the ice sticks to Yao and her brother. “My treat,” she said grinning.

  “I’ll pay you back,” said her brother.

  She shook her head. “You don’t have to.” Contentedly she opened her tiny packet and placed a tasty olive in her mouth.

  An hour later, they returned home with the coal-laden cart. Exhausted, Yezi plopped down on a chair, her legs spread out in front of her. She noticed that her brother had a few blisters on his hands, but in a whisper, he asked her not to tell Yao.

  Yao prepared a rich lunch for them: tomato soup with scrambled eggs, steamed rice and stir-fried pork with green peppers. It was a meal Yao only prepared on special occasions. “If I can pick up another load of cardboard to sell,” she said, “we’ll have enough cash.”

  Sometimes, after school, Yezi and Jian would pick mulberry leaves. Their growing silkworms needed to be fed twice a day.

  One evening, Yezi discovered a sleek but stiff worm inside her box. “Is this one sick?” she asked her brother, a worried frown on her face.

  Raising his head from the book, Sang looked into the box. “Ha! It’s ready to spin silk.”

  “Really?” Yezi was surprised. Clapping her hands, she asked, “What should I do now?”

  “I’ll give you some straw,” said Yao, who overheard them. “Do you have an empty box?”

  “No,” Yezi replied, turning to her brother. “Could you find one for me?”

  Sang went into their only room and returned with a worn metal box he had used to keep his marbles and screws in. “Is this okay, Popo Yao?”

  “That’s pretty good,” Yao said. She pulled a long stalk of straw from under the children’s bed. Then she picked up a pair of scissors and cut the straw into several sections, placing them in the box. She guided Yezi in settling the worm into its new nest, where it lay motionless for a while before it finally lifted its head.

  The next morning, Yezi jumped out of bed and looked into the box. “It’s making a cocoon!” she squealed, imagining an expanded egg-shaped cocoon glistening in the sun.

  After school that afternoon, on their way to the lakeshore to pick more mulberry leaves, Yezi and Jian noticed a crowd by a billboard in front of a classroom on campus. “Let’s go see what’s happening over there,” said Jian, quickening her steps.

  As they ran toward the building they heard Yao’s husky voice say, “I won’t leave them.” The warm air smelled of dust and the musty paste stuck on the bulletin board.

  “You don’t get paid, but you’re making money for them?” asked a worker in overalls. Pulling a flyer off the board with his hand, he added, “Are you crazy? You could get a lot of money for your hard work.”

  “They’re good kids. I won’t abandon them!” Yao said, sitting on the ground, wiping her brow with her apron. “I grew up an orphan. I know how hard life is without parents.”

  “I will never understand you.” The worker stooped to gather the torn paper. Like a professor surrounded by students, he said, “You’ve chosen to stay there, with them, until your next life. Look! Who is going to help you when you’re too weak to walk even now?”

  Yao’s voice trembled. “My next life will be better. I don’t worry about that.” Rubbing her eyes with her sleeve, she added, “I’ll be able to go home by myself after I have this little rest.”

  Yezi pushed through the crowd and reached out her arms for Yao. “I’m here to help you,” she said, her voice breaking.

  “Yao’s face lit up when she saw Yezi. One hand gripping Yezi’s arm, Yao struggled to stand up, her other hand holding her hips.

  Jian stepped toward them and grabbed Yao’s other hand. “Let me help.”

  Yao stood, staring at the basket full of used paper and cardboard. She moved toward it. “Would you put it on my back, young fellow?” she asked the worker.

  He walked over to the basket and gripped its straps to lift it. “It’s too heavy for you. I’ll bring it to you when I finish my job here.”

  “Are you sure? Thanks a lot,” said Yao. Laying her hands on each girl’s shoulder, she wobbled home with them.

  Yezi clasped Yao’s sweaty hand tightly. At that instant, Yezi felt closer to Yao than anyone else in the world.

  The following day, more cocoons appeared in Yezi’s box. Jian also had a few cocoons. The silvery or golden-orange pupal cases thrilled them. Their eyes glowed with joy.

  One afternoon in the last week of September, before suppertime, when Yezi and her brother were doing their homework at the table beneath the eavestrough, a middle-aged staff member from the road approached them. “Are you Sang?”

  The boy answered, “Yes, I am.” Looking up at him, Sang rose from his chair.

  “Go to the Security Office right now.”

  Surprised, Sang asked, “Why?”

  “You’ll know when you get there,” the man said with smile. Before walking away, he added, “The office is in the administration building.”

  Sang told his sister, “Tell Popo Yao I’ll be back soon.”

  Yezi watched the man as he walked away, and then her brother as he head
ed in the same direction for the Security Office. Not sure what it all meant, she raced over to Yao, who was washing vegetables at the communal sinks and told her what had happened.

  Yao took hold of the enamel basin. Quivering, she asked, “Are they gone?”

  “Yes,” Yezi said as she held onto the basin’s other side and helped Yao carry it home. After they sat at the table, Yezi asked, “What will happen now?”

  “I don’t know. I hope no more disaster.” Yao lowered herself slowly to the ground. On her knees, her hands clasped, she spoke softly, “Infinitely Merciful Buddha, please bless us. I’ll burn lots of joss sticks for you when I have money to buy them.”

  God bless us! Yezi also prayed, as she watched the glossy sunset paint the road, trees and buildings a burnished gold.

  “I’ve tried my best,” said Yao, rising slowly to her feet.

  Yezi said, “Here, Popo Yao. Have something to drink.” As she passed Yao a mug of boiled water, her hands trembled but her eyes lingered on the sunset, her feeling of dispiritedness diminished by the glorious view.

  Yao sipped the water slowly. “Are you hungry? I’ll cook now. We must eat after all.” Placing a pot on the stove, she began preparing their supper.

  After Yezi had set the table, and Yao had placed the pot of rice and vegetables on the table, Sang dashed in. He was elated, and thrust his hands up in the air as he jubilantly announced, “Hurrah! Mama is coming home!”

  “What?” Yezi could not believe her ears. “Now?” It was as if the dark metal bars over the tiny window in her mother’s cell had suddenly fallen into a heap at her feet. Her heart wanted to jump out of her chest.

  “Good heavens!” Yao gasped. “When?”

  “They said before October 1, National Day,” answered Sang with a broad smile. “They’ll allot us an apartment and help us move next week. The director asked me what furniture we want. I told him we needed all the things other people have.”