Mulberry and Peach

by Hualing Nieh

  The people of the village decided that those people were all guilty of some secret crime and that was why Judge Pao had settled with each of them. Within one month, fourteen people died in the village. It had become a village of death. Every house kept the main gate shut. Pao-tz’u Temple was a temple without statues of the gods. No one chanted sutras. No one went there to ask the gods for help. The grave where the corpse lay became a taboo area. No one dared to go near it. When people from the outside walked past the grave they could hear the villagers’ loud curses from far away. The more they cursed, the more impassioned their voices became, as if their cursing could appease the ghoul and they would escape death. No one dared to mention the ghoul. They would just say that ‘the Granddaddy’ was back which meant that the ghoul was out eating people again. Everyone was terrified. They all felt they were guilty of secret crimes. They lived waiting for death. Every time someone died, they didn’t need to tell each other. They immediately smelled the odour of death. Then every household would hurriedly burn incense and chant sutras. They weren’t paying homage to the gods. They were begging ‘the Granddaddy’ to spare their lives.

  Ch’ing, who returned to the village from Taipei, didn’t believe in evil spirits. He wanted to help the people of the village. He advocated cremating the corpse. But no one dared to remove a handful of dirt from the grave where the corpse lay buried. No one dared carry the corpse to the crematorium. Ch’ing took a shovel and knocked down the gravestone. He broke into the grave. He opened up the coffin. She was a sleeping beauty, looking very much alive. Dressed in a pink gown flecked with gold. Long, black hair. Sleek, supple arms. Eyes wide open, staring at the sky. Ch’ing sprinkled gasoline over the corpse and coffin. The fire burned from early morning until midnight. In the evening Ch’ing dug out her intestines with a stick. They were dripping with blood. The blood spattered on the grass of the grave. The odour of the smoke mingled with the smell of blood and fresh grass. A slight breeze carried the odour throughout the village.

  The people of the village recognised the smell, that’s what it smelled like when the ghoul was out eating people.

  Four days after the corpse was cremated, Ch’ing died suddenly.

  Twilight again. I open the window. No one is in the yard. A heavy rain mixed with hot air presses in the window.

  A truck with a loudspeaker drives down the lane, warning that a typhoon has hit the northeast coast.

  The people are asked to inspect their roofs, doors, and windows to make sure they are secured. They should collect flashlights, candles, and matches in case the electricity goes off. They should store drinking water in case the water supply is cut off. They must be careful with burners and stoves to prevent fires.

  I speak to Chia-kang about leaving the attic. We have already gone through half of the ten thousand dollars that he embezzled from the government treasury when we fled. We can’t depend on the Ts’ais for left-overs for the rest of our lives. He should give himself up. He can still get a reduced sentence. He can still get his freedom back someday.

  He turns over suddenly and sits up. He says life in the attic is imprisonment. If he leaves, he’ll just go to another prison. He simply won’t flee anymore. He asks if I plan to escape alone. He wants to know that.

  I say even if it came to rolling down the Mountain of Knives, I would roll down with him. But Sang-wa is an innocent child who should not suffer.

  ‘I’m sorry. She was born at the wrong time.’ When Chia-kang says this, he looks at Sang-wa and grits his teeth.

  Over the past year I have unconsciously collected a lot of newspaper clippings about escapes. There’s a large pile of newspaper clippings on my tatami mat.

  NO WAY OUT FOR OUT LAW

  ESCAPE ATTEMPT UNSUCCESSFUL

  KITE FLIES FAR, BUT STRING IS

  LONG

  END OF THE ROAD FOR RUNAWAY

  HOODLUM SURRENDERS

  BIG DRUG SMUGGLER AT LARGE

  SEARCH THROUGHOUT PROVINCE

  CRIMINAL CAUGHT

  Chia-kang says that all those fugitives were extraordinarily clever. But they were all caught and sent back to prison. What’s the use of trying to escape? With one finger he lifts the pile of clippings and weighs them.

  It’s late at night. The typhoon snarls above the green eye. The green eye is still open wide.

  Downstairs I hear the sound of chiselling at the shed door.

  They have really come for us.

  The door is creaking open. The attic shudders with the wind and rain.

  It is absolutely silent. I can see Chia-kang’s eyes open wide, staring at the ceiling.

  I am sitting on my tatami mat. He is lying on his tatami mat. They could come up for us at any time.

  We wait out the night.

  By morning the gale winds have died down. Downstairs Old Wang coughs when he comes to get some coal. I open the door to the stairway. He says that a burglar broke into a house on the lane during the storm. He was discovered when the owner returned. The burglar killed the owner with an iron, then fled. Old Wang discovered footprints leading from the wall to the door in the shed that goes up to the attic.

  Did he get away? Did he get away? Chia-kang and I shout in unison from where we lie at the top of the stairs.

  The three of us escape from the attic.

  We are climbing a mountain a thousand metres high. Sang-wa climbs to the top without stopping to catch her breath. So she can really walk, after all.

  We can’t stop anywhere for long. If we stop we must report our place of residence to the police station. If we report our residence, we must show our identification cards. Our identification cards will give us away as fugitives. At night we stop in caves in the mountains to sleep. During the day we climb. We steal sweet potatoes and fruit. We drink water from ponds.

  Sang-wa sees our reflections in the pond. She says there’s an attic made of water in the pond. In the water attic there are three people made of water. Their faces are covered with dirt, their eyes open wide in fright. The water people change shape when the wind blows. Their bodies gleam and sparkle. She throws in a pebble. The three water people shatter. The shards toss about on the ripples, then are reassembled into people again.

  Look, there’s somebody. Sang-wa points halfway down the mountain. Two people have climbed midway up the path. They look up and see us.

  From then on we are on the run, we hide in the mountains. We find a wanted poster lying in the road. The police have notified the mountain people to be on the lookout for fugitives. In a single day, we see people five times. Twice, they are passers-by. Three times they are policemen, combing the area in a search. We evade them all.

  Finally we find our way into a virgin forest. Red cypress. Hemlock spruce. Japanese cypress. Trees a thousand years old. The forest is dark and endless. No sign of human beings. We climb to the top of a tree and hide among the leaves. They can’t see us here. Bullets can’t reach us here.

  More and more people are searching for us. Waves of people encircle the whole forest.

  On the mountain, a bullhorn screams.

  ATTENTION, Shen Chia-kang and Mulberry. You cannot hold out anymore. We all know you are hiding in the forest. This mountain is shaped like a sack. Several hundred policemen are surrounding the mouth of the sack. We have cut you off. There’s no way you can escape. You can’t last in the mountain. There’s no food in the forest. You will all starve to death. When winter comes you’ll freeze to death. You are not murderers. You are ordinary criminals. Many people have committed your crime. If you give yourselves up now, you can still get lighter sentences. Your attempt to escape is endangering the safety of all the people on this mountain. If you try to get away, we have orders to shoot. We will set the dogs after you. It is pointless to try to escape. Shen Chia-kang and Mulberry, come out now and give yourselves up.

  There is no one on the beach. Not a boat on the sea. Beyond the beach rows and rows of pine trees have been planted to break the wind. The tongue of the beach st
retches out into the sea. There are two large trees near the shore. A straw hut is built between the trees.

  The three of us are hiding in the hut. Ah Pu-la is here with us. He has arranged for us to slip out of the island. We are all looking out to sea.

  A grey dot appears on the horizon. It gets larger. It turns into a fishing boat. The boat fires a white signal flare. Ah Pu-la drags the bamboo raft from the hut down to the water. The three of us file out of the hut. The four of us climb onto the raft from a sandbar in the shallow water. We paddle toward the fishing boat. The fishing boat stops. The raft approaches it. We crawl aboard.

  Ah Pu-la climbs aboard with us.

  The captain of the boat informs the two sailors that they’re smuggling us to Hong Kong. When the boat reaches Hong Kong, each of them will receive five thousand Taiwan dollars as a reward. We set out as though we were setting out to fish.

  The captain hoists the nationalist flag.

  As the flag reaches the top of the mast, one of the sailors hands Ah Pu-la a note. He asks him to take the note to his wife. He has decided not to come back. He asks her to take good care of their four children, his crippled mother, and his widowed sister-in-law. He wants Ah Pu-la to tell her the news. There’s nothing he can do about it.

  The other sailor scribbles several sentences on the back of the note. He asks Ah Pu-la to tell his wife that he’s not going to come back either. He asks her to take care of their five children and his blind elder brother. He is sorry that he has let her down, but he has to leave.

  Ah Pu-la says that his family is a heavy burden. His wife is dead. They have three children and a seventy-year-old father. The family of five is supported solely by his fishing. He wants to go somewhere else. He doesn’t intend to return either.

  The captain orders the sailors to set sail at full speed. The name of the ship is Heaven Number One. It’s an old fishing vessel weighing more than ten tons. More than twenty feet long, more than five feet wide. The helm is in the centre of the boat. Behind it is a small cabin. We spend the day hiding in the cabin. We’re afraid of running into patrol boats who might search the boat and find us. The cabin is the size of two tatami mats and has a low ceiling. We still can’t stand up.

  A salty sun shines inside the cabin. We lie in that sun for two days. In three days we’ll be in Hong Kong. When we get to Hong Kong, we’ll be safe.

  From the bow the captain announces that the wind is changing direction. A high cloud, shaped like a fishtail, appears on the horizon. A typhoon is approaching. They turn on the radio for the weather forecast.

  The water gets rougher. On the radio an opera singer begins to weep.

  She finishes weeping. Then there is an announcement:

  Attention: Fishing vessel Heaven Number One is attempting to smuggle Shen Chia-kang out of Taiwan. The authorities have already cabled the International Police Organisation to arrest Shen and the others at the moment they debark. They will soon be taken into custody and return to our country where they will be punished for their crimes. He is wanted for embezzling government funds. Attention: Shen Chia-kang. It is useless to try to escape. The navy patrol boats are in close pursuit. Every port of entry in the surrounding waters has been alerted. Turn the boat around and give yourselves up.

  The blind masseuse is blowing her whistle again as she walks past the attic.

  I write page after page of escape stories. Getting away to the mountains, getting away to the coast. How else could we escape?

  (C) Summer, 1959

  Aunt Ts’ai is ill. The Ts’ai family has saved our lives. I must leave the attic to go and see her.

  The most important consideration is his safety, says Chia-kang. It isn’t time to repay them for what they have done for us. Anyway, Mr Ts’ai is a notorious sex fiend. As soon as I set foot outside the attic, I’ll fall into his clutches. That old sex fiend has hidden us in his attic because he’s got his eye on me. If he, Chia-kang, is caught and sent to prison, how will Sang-wa and I survive? He is lying on his tatami mat. He talks on and on. Beside his pillow is a spittoon. The spittoon is full of his urine.

  It’s dark out. I want to take the spittoon outside.

  He grabs hold of my hair. It has now grown down to my waist. He tells me not to try to find excuses to go outside. He likes that pungent smell. It reminds him of sex.

  I go downstairs to the door. The courtyard is completely dark. A white cat with a black tail is squatting on the wall.

  I go back to the attic.

  I go downstairs, out the door. Someone knocks on the main gate. I go up to the attic again.

  I go out into the yard. In the lane a policeman speeds by on a bicycle.

  I go back to the attic again.

  I approach one of the windows at the Ts’ais’ house. There’s a light on. Uncle Ts’ai is sitting by his wife’s bed. She is propped up on the bed. They are talking.

  He says he can’t get out of the island now. Earlier, before the Communists crossed the Yangtze River, they had proposed peace negotiations. He had written editorials in which he advocated continuing the war. The Communists branded him as a war criminal. Now in Taiwan, he is advocating free elections. The Nationalists also consider him ideologically suspect. A pedicab is always parked at the intersection. The driver is always napping in his cab. That driver must be watching him.

  Aunt Ts’ai says the driver is really watching the people who are hiding out in the attic. She doesn’t understand why he is taking the risk of concealing a family of criminals. He should convince us to turn ourselves in to the police. He should tell us to leave the attic. He should remain silent. He should cut off his ties with the outside world. He should do this, he should do that. A lot of ‘shoulds’.

  I go back to the attic.

  Aunt Ts’ai has cancer of the liver. I will risk everything to go see her.

  Evening. Chia-kang and Sang-wa are asleep. At last I go out.

  Uncle Ts’ai is alone in his study. I halt in the doorway when I see the mirror on the wall. It’s a cheap mirror that warps its image. The farther away you stand, the more distorted your face becomes. He also sees the distorted face of the woman in the mirror. He turns in terror and stares at me. He tells me to come in. I don’t know how to walk anymore. Hands. Feet. Body. All out of place. He tells me to sit down. My mouth moves up and down several times. I can’t make a sound. I sit on the sofa, just like people outside the attic sit. I am three crooked sections. My torso rests on the back of the couch. My buttocks sit on the cushion of the couch. My feet rest on the floor. Each has its own part. The parts that should curve, do curve. The parts that should be straight, are straight.

  He says he is pleased that I have come out of the attic. He has been thinking about advising us to leave the attic for a long time. But you can’t tell other people what to do. They must decide things for themselves. Chia-kang should turn himself in to the police. Even if he has to serve a prison sentence, it would be for a limited term. Living in the attic is a sentence for life. Completely meaningless.

  I explain. I am used to life in the attic. In the attic, all greed, anger, craving and love disappear. It would be traumatic if I changed my life. I’m afraid of changing. I have only come out to repay him for saving our lives. I want to help them in their time of difficulty. I will risk coming here every day to help them. I am speaking very slowly and softly. Sometimes I have to pause awhile before going on. As soon as I finish speaking I stand up.

  He wants me to sit a little longer. He has just sent Aunt Ts’ai to the hospital and he needs to talk to someone.

  The blind masseuse’s whistle is shrieking again.

  I go back to the attic before midnight. It’s safer there.

  It’s dark.

  I am walking down the road. One, two. One, two. One, two. My feet touch ground, one step after another. I pick up a pebble. The pebble rubs against my palm. I go on walking like that. Walking. Walking. Walking.

  I pass the pedicab at the intersection. The police station. The fune
ral parlour.

  I pass an obstetrician’s clinic. A white sign with black characters hangs over the door. CONTRACEPTIVE INOCULATION. SCIENTIFIC CONTRACEPTION. FREE CONTRACEPTION ADVICE. MISCARRIAGE TREATMENT. RECONSTRUCTED BIRTH CANAL.

  I pass a drug store. There’s an ad in the window showing two Westerners talking on the telephone. The Westerner with black hair calls out wryly, ‘Hey, old Chang, ha-ha, you know this Male 10 stuff has male hormones in it.’ The white-haired Westerner, his eyes wide open, replies, ‘Really? Then I’ll buy a bottle and replenish my strength.’

  I pass a newspaper stand. The headline is ‘VICTORY SOON IN OUR STRUGGLE WITH THE COMMUNISTS FOR THE MAINLAND.’

  I pass a school. The sign says: ADVANCETO HIGH SCHOOL. ADVANCE TO THE UNIVERSITY. HUMANITIES, SCIENCE, MEDICAL SCHOOL, AGRICULTURAL SCHOOL. EXPERIMENTAL CLASSES, ADVANCED CLASSES, SPECIALISED CLASSES. TEST OF ENGLISH AS A FOREIGN LANGUAGE FOR STUDY ABROAD.

  I pass an airline office. A yellow airplane hangs in the window. The nose of the plane slants toward the corner of the window. Black letters are painted on the body of the plane. The airplane’s passenger service extends to major cities all over the world. Fast and Safe. Courteous Service.

  I pass the intersection. OPEN YOUR HEART TO THE HOLY SPIRIT, black characters on a white dress flash past me. A woman’s head sticks out from a white collar. A missionary. She smiles and hands a leaflet to me. SIN AND REDEMPTION. Please come hear the holy word. Please believe in the Lord.

  A hand grabs my arm. On the wrist is a huge round watch with a luminous dial. The time on the watch is 8:20. A policeman is holding me by the arm. A train thunders past in front of me. Characters painted on the box cars, ‘Beware of Communist Spies’ flash by. The railroad crossing bar has been lowered in front of me. I duck under the bar and try to scurry across the tracks. The policeman says that the crossing bar is lowered to warn pedestrians and cars that a train is coming. Next time, remember that. Don’t play around with your life.