The Long March Home

by Zoë S. Roy

  Yezi jumped on the mound with the bone, trying to dislodge it. At the same time a horse-drawn wagon stopped in front of Yao. “Do you need a ride?” a young driver asked. “Where are you going?”

  “Xiaohe Village,” answered Yao, who motioned to Yezi. “Come! We have a ride.”

  Yezi stuffed the bone into her pocket and then flung their bags into the wagon. They clambered into the wagon and then slouched against the boards. “Thank you very much, young man,” Yao said. “Do you live in Xiaohe?”

  “No, but I pass by it.” As the driver pulled the reins and whistled, his horse began to gallop. “What about you?”

  “We’re going to see my cousin’s family. How’s life in the country?”

  “Tough enough, you know. We must sell our rice and other food we grow at low, fixed prices to the government. So, we never have enough money.”

  “Is this your horse and wagon?”

  “No. They belong to the brigade. I’m only a handler.”

  “But they pay you, don’t they?”

  “About a hundred yuan a year, in addition to my ration of grain.” The horse handler added, “Most of the people in my village only get about twenty yuan a year.”

  Yezi sniffed at the bone she had managed to pull from the mound and tapped it with her knuckles. She compared it to the bones in her own hand and foot and wondered if it came from Yuanmou Man. Then the horse-drawn wagon stopped in front of several small houses, and Yao asked Yezi to jump down.

  “Is this your cousin’s place?” asked Yezi.

  “Yes, dear. Now help me get out of the cart, as well.” Yezi helped Yao step down and then watched her pull out a crisply folded man’s handkerchief from her handbag and hand it to the driver. “Please keep this little gift from us with our thanks,” she said.

  The young man thanked her profusely and drove his horse-drawn wagon away.

  Yezi trudged with Yao along a muddy, gravel path full of shallow puddles. They passed several clusters of houses made with earth walls and thatched roofs, surrounded by vegetable gardens and fences. The smell of fermented pigweed and composted manure spread throughout the village. Smoke with the aroma of cooking food floated lazily around the houses.

  When they paused in front of a house in a mud-walled yard, a dog at the doorway growled. Yezi leaped behind Yao. Bending for a stone that she could throw at the dog, Yao shouted, “Anybody home?”

  A boy of thirteen stepped out of a double door in the centre of the house. Petting the dog, and holding him still, he asked, “Who are you looking for?”

  “You must be Dabao. Is your grandfather home?”

  “How do you know my name?” the teenager asked, staring at Yao. He sized her up, and then turned his head back toward the door calling, “Grandmother, we have guests.”

  A woman in her late sixties appeared on the stoop. Yao recognized the wife of her cousin, Ah Xiu. The woman exclaimed, “Oh, my heavens!” Her hands flapped on her apron. “What has brought you here, Yao?”

  “It has been a long time. Is my cousin home?” Yao pulled Yezi with her toward the house. “This is Yezi, the daughter of my mistress.”

  “She’s so cute! Please come in.” Yezi stepped over a high wooden threshold and then sat down at a table in a hall-sized living room. The hostess raised her voice toward a side room where Dabao’s grandfather was resting. “Laotang, come! Your cousin, Yao, is here.” Picking up a rag, she wiped the table. “We ate just now, but I’ll cook something for you,” she said as she went into the kitchen.

  The door of the side room opened. An old man shuffled out, a cane in his hand and a towel on his head. “I haven’t seen you in ten years, Yao. I thought you’d forgotten us.” He coughed as he spoke. “I’m not so well these days.”

  Rising from her seat, Yao walked over to her cousin and helped him to a chair. “Laotang, I had a tough time these past years,” her voice trembled. “I couldn’t come to see you until now.”

  While they chatted, Ah Xiu prepared a meal of steamed rice, and slices of smoked pork, boiled cabbage and carrots in a chilli sauce. Hungry, Yezi wolfed down the food. Yao drank a cup of rice wine and continued her long chat with her cousin. As the room darkened, the hostess lit an oil lamp; the light of the flames flickered over the table. Yezi gazed at the shadows of the human figures in the room trembling slightly on the walls, reflections of the flickering lamplight. Bunches of white or orange ears of corn, braids of white garlic and bundles of yellow tobacco leaves hung on hooks attached to the smoke-stained, dark brown ceiling beams. A ladder leaned on one side wall, above which was an open attic used as a storage room and guestroom.

  Suddenly, steps could be heard outside. Dabao entered the room with several children. “Hello,” he called out. “My friends want to meet the city boy.”

  “Me?” Yezi stood.

  “Aren’t you a city boy?” Dabao raised his head, a puzzled look on his face. Yezi no longer wearing her cap. Two long pigtails rested on her shoulders. “You are—”

  “I’m a girl.” She laughed and swung her shoulder-length hair.

  “Why did you dress like a boy?”

  “Popo Yao wanted me to. She thinks a girl in the countryside is vulnerable.”

  One of the girls pulled Yezi’s sleeve. “Do you go to school?”

  “Do you…? I mean do boys like you play basketball?” A boy made a face at her, pointing at her braids and laughing. Dabao grinned and scratched his head.

  Yezi giggled and answered their questions. Yao gave each of the children a gift: hairpins to the girls and a pencil and sharpener to the boys. They pulled Yezi outside for a quick game of hide-and-seek.

  At bedtime, Yao held an oil lamp in her hand as she gingerly climbed the ladder to the attic. Yawning, Yezi followed her to the upper floor and fell onto the double bed that awaited them. Yao placed the lamp on what looked like a table. Yezi was shocked to notice that the table was actually a black coffin stacked on top of another coffin, its surface reflecting the glare from the flame. Eyeing the casket in the dim light, Yezi shivered and pulled the blankets up to her chin.

  Yao turned around and said, “I should have told you about this earlier.” She sat down beside Yezi and stroked her shoulder. “Don’t be scared, little one.”

  “Why on earth do they have coffins inside the house?” Yezi asked, shuddering.

  “Here every family keeps one or two for their elderly parents,” Yao said, as she climbed into the bed beside. “You must be tired. I am. Let’s go to sleep.”

  Curling up next to her, Yezi wrapped her arms around Yao’s arm. “Stay with me, okay?”

  “Okay.” Yao said and blew out the lamp.

  The next morning, Yezi got up early and followed Yao to the ladder. Carefully they made their way down. Dabao was sitting on a bench, carving a piece of wood.

  Yezi took the bone from her pocket. “Look! Do you know what this is?”

  He looked up from his carving and gave the bone a cursory glanced. “A pig’s bone.”

  “What?” She did not believe him. “Isn’t this a human bone?”

  “What are you talking about?” Dabao snickered. “I can find tons of these bones if you want.”

  “Do you know where Danabeng village is?”

  “About eight kilometres away. Why?”

  “Have you heard of Yuanmou Man?”

  “Never. Who the heck is he?” Forgetting the carving he had been working on, Dabao stared up at her, his eyes wide. “Okay, tell me more.”

  Yezi told him about that she had learned about Yuanmou Man in school. Amazed, Dabao wondered how a girl two grades below him could know so much.

  After breakfast, Yao and Ah Xiu dismantled a door and set it across over two benches as a makeshift table, on which Yao cut patterns and hand-sewed several shirts with the fabric she had brou
ght with her, a gift to her cousin and his wife.

  Yezi resolved to try her luck at digging for a tooth of Yuanmou Man. Dabao went along to help. Dabao led Yezi to a path alongside the house. Two of Dabao’s friends caught up to them and asked them where they were going. Eager to help with the expedition, they followed Yezi and Dabao and crossed a field blanketed by green wheat swaying in the early morning breeze. A large mound surrounded by bushes and trees came into sight. Dabao and his friends used to play around the area and had once discovered several bullet shells. He led the way to the mound. They thrust a hoe into the sandy soil and began to dig. Yezi acted as the archeologist and inspected the loosened dirt.

  She uncovered numerous grassroots and cocooned insects, then handfuls of pebbles. But she found no bones, nor a single animal hair. After grubbing in the dirt for an hour, the boys felt sweaty and hot. They took off their jackets. Dabao’s face was flushed and shone in the sun. He hunkered down on the ground and checked everything they had pulled from the mound. “I don’t think we are going to find any bones.”

  Yezi selected two pebbles and pocketed them. “Let’s try another spot.” They traipsed to another mound but discovered nothing significant.

  Later, Dabao took Yezi to his family’s vegetable garden behind the house. This time, she had a basketful of treasures: carrots and radishes. “Try one.” The boy scraped off a carrot and handed it to her. She bit into the crunchy, juicy root, and inhaled its fresh soil scent. Satisfied with their loaded basket, they went home.

  The house soon filled with the pleasant sounds of children’s babbling and adult chatter. Another door was dismantled to become a makeshift table for Yezi and Dabao to help his siblings with their homework.

  Then, Dabao’s uncle and his family from the next house joined them for supper. Yezi was thrilled by all the other children at the table. She had never been at such a massive gathering before. After dinner, the three men smacked their lips on long-stemmed pipes and puffed on lit tobacco leaves, filling the hall with hazy smoke. Rice wine flowed down the adults’ throats, and more words and sighs of relief found their way out of the drinkers’ mouths. Meanwhile the children drank mugs of water sweetened with sugar and giggled about nothing as they passed around numerous meat and vegetable dishes.

  Yao spoke to Laotang’s family about Sang’s accommodations. Laotang confirmed that Sang could live with them. Also he demanded that Dabao’s uncle, one of his sons, get permission from the brigade’s leader since he worked as an accountant, an important position within the brigade. This would secure Sang’s position in the village.

  Along with Ah Xiu, Yao visited many families in the area, some of whom she barely remembered. She had left the village when she was ten years old, but everybody knew she was here visiting and wanted to see and greet her. The villagers did not have telephones to pass on the news, but their eyes and ears collected all the news they needed about each family in the village. Yao’s visit was an honour and her gifts were an eye-opener to everybody. Yao gave the women buttons and threads for their needle work, who were amazed by the oval or diamond shapes of the buttons in various sizes and colours. The men received cigarettes and nylon socks. Some sniffed at those not handmade rolls, and some pulled on the nylon socks to see how far they could be stretched. Children were excited by colourful head bands and hairclips or pencils and erasers in the shape of animals they had never seen. A brown plastic cup was a completely new surprise to each family. In the countryside, such things were rarely seen.

  Yao gave a hundred yuan to her cousin. She said, “Don’t decline it. We’re family.” Two days later, after a tearful goodbye, Yezi and Yao left to make their way back home. Half of the villagers walked them out to the road. A cart waited for them to climb in. Sitting down, Yao positioned a basket full of fresh eggs in her lap. Yezi held onto a string bag; a chicken with its legs tied was shivering inside. Two young men pulled the cart to the bus station.

  Meihua’s shelf was gradually filled with books from stores and libraries while folders and files slowly piled up on her desk. Sometimes, she stayed up, plunging into her painting until a newly finished canvas joined the others of various sizes against the wall. She would gaze at these paintings for hours at a time, her brown eyes glowing with satisfaction.

  June 1, International Children’s Day, arrived. Yezi’s school held a celebration. Students from each class performed on the school stage. In the evening, Yezi’s mother placed a black case on the desk and said, “Happy Birthday!”

  Yezi was ten years old, but it the first time she had ever received such an important gift. “A violin!” She gazed at the child-sized instrument case glimmering under the lamp light. Meihua knew Yezi admired the girl with the violin in the magazine photograph. They had talked about the photograph many times. The gift of a violin was a real surprise to Yezi. Eager to reach the case, Yezi almost stumbled over a chair. She opened it and fingered the smooth surface of the violin. The strings seemed to be whispering, “Play me!” The image of the American girl ran across her mind, making her shiver. For a moment, she felt as if she were becoming that girl.

  “I have great news.” Her mother’s voice brought Yezi back to the present. “My mother plans to visit us in August.”

  “Really?” Astonished, Yezi ran to Sang, who was testing acupuncture points on his legs. She shook his arm. “Can you speak English with our grandmother?”

  “Don’t push me. I have needles in my legs.” Remaining motionless on his chair, Sang said, “I’ll try. But I’m going to the countryside. I won’t even be able to find any English papers or magazines there. In fact, I won’t need English there at all.”

  “But I want to practice English with you before our grandmother comes.”

  “Okay, but you can also practice with Mama and Jian.” Sang pulled one of the needles out of his leg. “I’m good at needles now. Hopefully, I’ll be able to help the peasants with their aches and pains.”

  That night, exhilarated about the violin and the news of her grandmother’s visit, Yezi tossed and turned in bed. She imagined the moment she would meet her grandmother. She couldn’t decide whether she should say, “How do you do?” or “How are you?” She decided to ask her mother the following morning. She closed her eyes and willed herself to sleep.

  17.

  A FOREIGN GRANDMOTHER

  WAITING FOR FURTHER NEWS FROM her grandmother became Yezi’s main interest. One day in late June, Yezi returned home from school. Before walking into her bedroom, she popped her head into her mother’s room. “Any news?” Yezi wanted to be informed of all details about her grandmother’s visit.

  “Not yet. It takes time for them to make a decision,” said Meihua, raising her head from her book.

  “Why do we need to get permission from the university?”

  “Because your grandmother is a visitor from the outside of China.”

  “Hmm. Do you remember Liang, Sang’s classmate? Last year, her uncle came from the States.”

  “Right. I don’t foresee any problem. We just have to be patient.”

  “Do you still need me to model for you tomorrow morning?”

  “Absolutely. Do you have any other plans?”

  “Jian got a kitten. I’m going over to her place to see it, but I’ll be your model first.”

  The next morning, Yezi put on the worn-out clothes she had used for her trip to Yuanmou. She placed the cap on her head and let her hair hang loose over her shoulders. She sat in a chair, clutching a stick in her hand, adopting what she hoped was a good pose for her portrait. Meihua sketched out Yezi’s portrait; she tentatively titled it “Tomboy.” She peered at Yezi constantly from behind the easel, dipping her brush into the paints, her strokes rapid and sure.

  “Has Grandmother visited us before?” asked Yezi, her head full of questions.

  “No.”

  “What does she do?”


  “She’s a retired nurse.” Meihua gestured to Yezi with her paintbrush. “Don’t move.”

  “How long do I have to remain still?”

  “Not too long. By the way, what colour is Jian’s kitty?”

  “White and beige with a brown tail, but I haven’t seen it yet.”

  “It must be cute.” Meihua added the final touch. “I had a tabby long ago; it was brown with black spots.” Finally she laid the paintbrush on the tray. “It’s done.”

  Yezi leaped past the easel and turned her head. “Wow! It’s me. But why do the eyes have no colour?”

  “I’ll add colour soon. Your brown, deep-set eyes look like mine. You also have a tiny, high nose, just like mine.”

  “Are my eyes brown? Not black?” Walking toward the closet, Yezi looked into its full-length mirror.

  “That’s right, tomboy!” Her mother laughed, her eyes narrowing at the painting.

  “Bye, Mama. I’m going to see the kitten!” Yezi left the room and raced over to Jian’s home.

  Yezi watched her mother paint portraits of each family member. Yao dozed in the armchair during her portrait sitting over several evenings. During his turn, needles in acupuncture points on his legs, Sang remained motionless for hours in order to test their effectiveness. Meihua entitled the painting “Barefoot.” When Lon returned home, after helping Yao clean the apartment, do the laundry and go grocery shopping, he also posed in a chair as a model, sipping the tea from a cup in his hand and enjoying a moment of relaxation. Weeks later, Meihua had finished a portrait for everyone except herself. Yezi wondered how her mother would paint her own picture until one Sunday morning. In front of the closet mirror, Meihua sat with the easel beside her and sketched on the canvas by observing her reflection in the mirror. When she was done with the sketch, she started to add colour with her oil paints. Her self-portrait depicted an artist whose eyes were sharp and thoughtful.