The Long March Home

by Zoë S. Roy

  Home. She was back in her sweet home. She asked Yao to come to her room. Then she handed her a bundle of banknotes. “This 1,500 yuan is yours, Yao.”

  “I don’t need the money,” Yao said, as she gazed at the bundle, wondering if it had rained yuan. “You need it more than I do.”

  “You haven’t been paid a single fen for all these years. You have taken good care of my children, and you deserve it,” said Meihua, a smile on her face. “From now on, it seems I will be paid even though I won’t be teaching.”

  “Didn’t they—”

  “They said I need time to prepare for next September’s classes. I have been told to study Chairman Mao’s directives and the policies of the Communist Party that I’ve missed over the past years. In any case, I’m paid from now on.”

  Yao held the money in her hand and went to the bedroom she shared with Yezi. Yezi was lying on her bed, working on her homework. As Yao wrapped the bills in several handkerchiefs, she grinned at Yezi and said, “I’ll buy you a skirt when we go shopping.”

  “You don’t have to ’cause Mama already said she’d buy me new clothes,” answered Yezi, raising her eyes from her book. “But you can buy me an ice cream cone.”

  “I can get you a hundred ice cream cones if you want.” Yao chuckled and placed the money in her pillowcase.

  The following day, when Yezi came home from school, her mother was sitting in her wicker chair, her head leaning on its back, her hand on her forehead. “Mama, are you okay?” she asked, trying to hide the worry in her voice.

  “I’m completely overwhelmed.” Meihua shook a letter in her hand. “Look at this.”

  “It’s in English.” Yezi gazed at it. “Who wrote to you?”

  “It’s from your grandmother. My mother.”

  “My grandmother?” Yezi caught her breath, an astonished look on her face. She had never thought about her grandmother’s existence before. “Where is she?”

  “She lives in the United States.”

  “Is she a foreigner?” Yezi picked up the envelope from the table and examined the stamp.

  “Foreigner? She’s my mother.” Meihua looked into Yezi’s eyes. “Is that something regretful?”

  “No. I like the faces of happy foreigners in the magazine.”

  “What magazine?” her mother asked with surprise. “Where did you see this magazine?”

  “It’s an English magazine I found in the library’s reading room. I don’t know what it’s called.”

  I don’t know my daughter that well, Meihua thought ruefully. “Do you know how to read in English?”

  “Only a couple of words.” Yezi asked eagerly, “What did my grandmother say?”

  Meihua scrutinized the page and interpreted it in Chinese. “Dear Meihua, Lon, Dahai and Sang, as well as the youngest if he/she exists….”

  Yezi was dismayed. “Why doesn’t she know me?” she asked.

  “I wrote to her about you in September 1966. It seems the letter never reached her.” Meihua continued reading the letter.

  This is my fifth letter to the same address, a copy of which went to your provincial government. I’ve been trying to locate you since 1972 when the relationship between the United States and China was normalized.

  In May 1966, I mailed you a parcel and a letter, but never heard back from you. I even contacted the Chinese Central Committee of Education in Beijing after I failed to get any reply, but they advised me to wait due to the ongoing Cultural Revolution.

  I never anticipated the wait to be this long.

  If any of you get this letter, please answer me as soon as possible. I’m 71 years old and longing to hear from my family.

  “Where did her other letters go?” Yezi asked, dropping to her knees next to her mother’s chair.

  “Maybe they were disposed of because people were afraid of anything coming from outside China.” Meihua took a long breath. “But things are getting better now. At least this letter got to me.”

  In her reply, Meihua did not tell her mother in detail about what the family had gone through; however, she did give her the heartbreaking news of the death of her eldest son.

  A month later, as if carried by a pigeon that flew freely across the Pacific Ocean, another letter from Yezi’s grandmother safely landed at their door. She expressed her joy about the family’s reunion, and also told them that Meihua’s stepfather had passed away the year before. She enclosed a photograph of herself and asked for one of Meihua’s family.

  Yezi gazed at her grandmother’s face and identified that foreign but familiar expression she had seen in photographs in the library’s foreign magazines. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but it was a kind of happiness that she had never seen on Yao or her mother’s face, despair having lingered within them for so long. Looking up at her mother, Yezi realized she wanted to know more about her. “Why did you leave your American mother for my country?”

  “Your grandfather, my father, is Chinese. I came to look for him after I finished university.” Meihua began to draw, for Yezi, an intelligible picture.

  “Did you find him?”

  “No, but I met your father, so I stayed.”

  “How did you get here?”

  “By ship. It took around twenty days.”

  “Is the United States that far?”

  “Yes, but today it would take only a day by air.” Meihua smiled. “You have so many questions.”

  “Is it inappropriate?” Yezi was eager to find the answers to all her questions. “My teacher always says ‘Don’t ask too many questions. Good students always listen.’ Popo Yao says the same thing. What do you think?”

  “Some students learn by asking questions.”

  “I’m interested in lots of things. Me and my best friend want to learn English from you.”

  “Who is your best friend? And why do you want to learn to speak English?”

  “Jian. You saw her yesterday. We’ve been hanging out and raising silkworms together.” Pointing to the cocoon-decorated tree branch on Meihua’s desk, Yezi said with elation, “Look at this Egg Tree. Some of the cocoons are from her as well as me.”

  “Let me think about it.”

  “We won’t tell others about it, Mama. I promise.”

  “When do students begin to learn English in school?”

  “Grade seven.”

  “Can you find an English textbook?”

  A week later, Jian joined Yezi for their first one-hour-per-week English lesson. Meihua corrected their pronunciation of the alphabet, which Sang had already taught them. They practiced saying, “Long Live Chairman Mao,” the first sentence from a textbook Yezi had brought home, which mostly consisted of Mao quotations such as, “the working class is the leading class,” and “the children are the flowers of our motherland.” Meihua also taught them how to greet people. Yezi practiced saying “hi” to Jian, and they shook hands with each other giggling, and practicing the words, “how are you?”

  In November, Lon came home and surprised them with a black-and-white television. Yezi and Sang were thrilled. Yezi did not need to go to cinema; she could watch people move and talk on the magic screen on weekends, like other children did. Meanwhile, the family had a photograph taken for Meihua’s mother. Yezi wore a new, dark green skirt, a popular colour that reflected China’s military power. It was the only colour of skirts they could find in stores. Her mother wore the pale gray skirt that Lon had given her. In the photograph, her hands rest on Yezi’s shoulders. Yezi’s smile is exuberant, like the girl in the magazine. Yezi was certain her grandmother would be able to feel her delight.

  The family gathered just before the new year of 1976. After dinner, they discussed Sang’s future; he had, as they all knew, a keen interest in studying medicine. But, according to Mao’s recruitment criteria
, universities only accepted applicants who had worked as workers, peasants, or soldiers for at least three years. Too, applicants had to be recommended by the authorities of their work units. Like most other high school graduates, Sang had simply one option: to settle down somewhere in the countryside and receive re-education from peasants.

  “I’ve been attending a free workshop at the hospital. It lectures on basic medical aid.” Sang showed his parents his handouts and reading materials.

  “Where are you going to go for your re-education?” asked Meihua.

  “Our head teacher said we should find our own places, instead of making arrangements through the school.”

  Yezi asked, “Can you go to the countryside near home?”

  “Why don’t you ask me to open up the land in the yard and grow vegetables here?” Sang laughed.

  Lon was also concerned about the location. “Where do you plan to go, son?”

  “I’m thinking of Xishungbanna where the native people really need us.”

  “The Dai people have a tough life.” Yao had heard about their arduous living conditions. “You don’t even know their language. How can you survive there?”

  “I’m not afraid of hardship because I’ve already gone through it. I don’t know their language, but I’ll learn.” Sang looked into his father’s eyes. “Don’t you agree with me?”

  “On the one hand, you’re right. It might be an interesting place.” But Lon wanted Sang to be open to other possibilities. “You will need to find out if the government has any special policy for the area, because it borders Vietnam, Laos and Burma.”

  “I don’t want to lose another son,” said Meihua. The thought of Dahai’s death pieced her heart like a needle.

  Frightened, Yezi shook her mother’s arm. “Brother won’t leave us. Isn’t that right, Baba? ”

  “Don’t worry, Meihua.” Lon feigned a smile to lighten the mood of the room. “He may not have to go that far. And even if he does go there, it’s still in Yunnan Province.”

  “I may be able to find him a closer spot,” Yao said, thinking about the village she came from. “It’s closer, so Sang could come home once a month.”

  “Where is it?” Yezi jumped up. “Tell me.”

  “In Yuanmou.”

  “Yuanmou? The fossil of early man was found there.” Excited, Yezi clapped her hands. She considered Yuanmou the most important place in the world.

  “Can you get in touch with someone there?” asked Meihua, relieved at the thought that her son might not have to go too far to receive his re-education.

  “I’ll try,” said Yao, “even though I’ve been out of touch with my relatives for a long time now.”

  Busy with the upcoming Chinese New Year celebrations, Yao needed Yezi to shop with her. According to the Chinese lunar calendar, the Chinese New Year, or Spring Festival as it was commonly called, would fall on January 30, 1976. She joined one line-up for groceries and asked Yezi to wait in another line. Yezi disliked this kind of chore, but she had to help Yao. Sang was buried in basic medical training, and Meihua could not stand long because of her sore back.

  Every family had ration coupons intended for the holiday: pork, peanut oil, eggs, sticky rice, bean noodles, sugar. Even bars of soap and yards of cloth were rationed.

  The last day of January 1976 was the first joyful Chinese New Year in Yezi’s life. Both parents were home, and they had lots of food to eat and celebrate with. She and her mother helped prepare the ingredients while Yao cooked the many dishes that would be eaten over several days. Yao planned to visit her home village with Yezi on the second day of the Chinese New Year, the day on which people traditionally visited relatives or close friends. She intended to organize Sang’s placement in the village she was from. Yezi had begged to go with her, and her parents had consented. They felt Yao might be able to use Yezi’s help during the trip.

  Lon purchased two bus tickets for them after waiting in line for five hours the night before. Early the next morning, Yao dressed Yezi in Sang’s thick jacket, worn-out work pants and a faded cap. As she tucked Yezi’s hair under the cap, she said to Meihua, “Look, nobody will notice she’s a girl. She’ll be safe from any potential mishaps.”

  “How long will it take to get to your village from the bus stop?”

  “About two hours; the same time that took us to walk to your camp from the train station.”

  “Have you stashed your money properly? Once you lost money on the train,” Meihua reminded her.

  Excited, Yezi imagined the home of Yuanmou Man, who had lived there one million, seven hundred thousand years earlier. “Don’t worry, Mama. We look so poor that nobody will rob us.” She looked into the mirror. Face to face with her was a familiar-looking boy in ragged clothes, standing next to an old woman in sack-like clothing. Yezi snorted and laughed. “How about if I put some coal dust on my face?”

  Everybody laughed.

  Yezi and Yao boarded a long-distance bus to Yuanmou County. Many of the passengers carried so many bags and pieces of luggage that it seemed as though they were moving houses. Nudging their way through the crowd, Yezi and Yao finally reached their seats. All around them were large sacks of belongings and over-filled baskets with sturdy handles. Yao had to shove their handbags under their seats. The bus departed from the city and passed adjacent fields covered with wheat seedlings, carrot tops and climbing peas. Through the open window, Yezi breathed air that smelled of fresh-cut hay and manure. Drenched in water, endless rice paddies were ready for planting. Four hours later, the bus pulled into a depot. The driver announced a half-hour stop for passengers to buy some food and use the washroom.

  Yezi and Yao left the bus. “Do you need a drink?” asked Yao.

  “No, I want to look around.” Yezi walked past a row of vendors that had vegetables and live fowls displayed on tables. She watched the caged chickens and ducks while Yao kept an eye on her.

  “My god!” an old woman from their bus exclaimed. “Where is my wallet?” She looked astounded, her hand reaching into her pocket and coming out empty. “I must’ve lost it when I bought that bun.”

  “Look over there,” said Yao, pulling on Yezi’s hand.

  In the middle of the yard, a young man in a dark blue jacket, about ten steps from them, had grabbed a teenager’s wrist. “Give me back my wallet!”

  “Let go of me! I don’t have your wallet!” the teenager shouted. He used his other hand to slap the man in the blue-jacket. The two men began pushing each other. To everyone’s surprise, a middle-aged woman raced over to pull them apart. The teenager darted away.

  “Oh my!” Stunned, Yezi also caught sight of the old woman who had lost her wallet, now standing in front of one of the vendors. She was gaping at the scene, shouting that the teenager probably had her wallet, too.

  Frightened, Yao gripped Yezi’s arm. “Let’s get back to the bus.” Back in her seat, Yao sat back and took a deep breath. The bus was safe. At least the thieves were outside.

  Meanwhile, a woman sitting behind them muttered, “These thieves are so well-organized that we can’t do anything about it.”

  16.

  YUANMOU MAN

  WHEN THEY FINALLY DISEMBARKED AT a place called Red Soil, Yezi asked, “Why didn’t we get off at Yuanmou station?”

  “From that station, we would have had to walk two kilometres more to reach my village,” Yao explained, as they began their walk down the road that led to Xiaohe Village. The sun warmed their faces while a cold wind blew over endless fields.

  “How did you find me in Kunming?” Yezi asked.

  “Not you, your parents. It’s a long story.” Yao recalled the day she had sat on a dusty roadside for hours, her legs crossed. She had been trying to find a job so that she could make the five silver yuan she needed to bury her mistress, an elderly Buddhist nun who had passed away
several days earlier. “Your parents were on their way to Kunming. Their bus stopped for a rest. After they listened to my story, they decided to help me and offered me a job. So, after I buried my mistress, I followed them to Kunming.”

  “Where were your folks?”

  “They died young. The nun took me under her wing.”

  “Where was I?”

  “Nowhere. Even Dahai was still in your mama’s belly.”

  “Why did my folks come to Kunming?”

  “They got jobs, so they moved there.”

  As Yezi listened to Yao, she scanned the area. A red, dirt road wound up the empty, sloping hill ahead of them. “Where would the Yuanmou Man be?” She was determined to find some fossils that she could bring home to Sang and her parents.

  “Everywhere in this area.” Curious, Yao asked, “Why do you want to see them?”

  “They aren’t alive. I can’t see them. I want to find their bones!”

  “Why on earth do you want the bones of dead people?” Yao was mystified.

  “Because they are the Homo Erectus who lived here a long, long time ago.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “My textbook said that archaeologists found two tooth fossils of Yuanmou Man in 1965.”

  “What’s the use of the teeth? They can’t give you food to eat.”

  “All you think about is food,” Yezi chided Yao playfully. “Yuanmou Man fossils are way more important.” Yezi ran toward a pit surrounded by rocks and bushes. This looks like the foundation of an old hut. I might come across something, she thought, taking a knife from her pocket to dig in the soil.

  “See if you find any fossils.” Yao huffed as she perched on a rock by the roadside. It was time for a short rest.

  Yezi picked a pebble from the soil and cleaned it with her fingers. She also found several others, but none of them were fossils. Yezi pulled Yao to her feet and told her that they would probably find something further along the road. Half an hour later, Yezi spotted a mound of soil next to the roadside. That must be something. “Wait for me.” She raced toward it and squatted in front of it. She scraped away at the soil with her knife, creating a hole in the process. Hollowing out dirt and sand, she thrust fast. Soon her knife grated against something hard. “I got a bone! A real bone, Popo Yao!” Her enthusiasm made Yao smirk.