The Last Quarter of the Moon

by Chi Zijian

  That very night I went to Nidu the Shaman’s shirangju to give birth to Andaur, since there was no time to construct a yataju. I knew that Nidu the Shaman had departed, but our Malu were still there, and They would help me get through the difficulties of a premature delivery.

  I didn’t keep Yveline at my side. In the shirangju where Nidu the Shaman had resided, I felt brightness and courage supporting me just like my own legs.

  When Andaur came wailing into this world of snow and ice, at the pointed top of the shirangju I saw a bright star giving off a blue glow. I believe those rays of light were emitted by Nidu the Shaman.

  ***

  Yoshida returned to the Kwantung Army Garrison. He had come on a battle steed but left on foot. He gave us the other two horses. He was spiritless, like someone with a sharp weapon who has done battle with an unarmed man, yet has lost.

  Little Dashi liked these two horses and he became their master. That winter he led them to graze on sunlit slopes to ensure they could feed on dry grass. The grass on the northern hillsides was submerged under thick snow.

  Because the scrawny horse that Kunde had traded for long ago had not survived, Yveline had a strong aversion to horses. ‘Since the first horse that arrived in our urireng didn’t bring us good luck, those two horses left by the Japanese will only bring disaster,’ she predicted.

  The following year spring seemed to arrive unusually early. Andaur couldn’t walk yet, and I put him in a cradle. Viktor watched him while Lajide and I went to make a salt lick.

  Kandahang and deer like to lick salty soil, so in places frequented by their quarry, hunters dig one foot into the ground, bore a hole with a wooden wedge, place salt in it, and fill in the hole with dirt, thereby gradually rendering the soil alkaline.

  We conceal ourselves in the nearby woods and wait for deer to pause and lick the briny soil. In a sense, a salt lick is actually a deer killing ground.

  There were two salt licks belonging to our urireng, one small and one large, and two years running we went there in the evenings after the rain and knelt in wait for our prey, but our efforts were fruitless.

  Lajide said our salt licks were too close to water. He said we should build new ones on one of the sunny slopes, where kandahang and deer liked to roam. Lajide secretly left the mountains for Xu Caifa’s store in Jurgang where he obtained two bags of salt.

  We spent two days completing a new salt lick. ‘This soft, salty soil is the best bed,’ Lajide whispered, nestling up to me. ‘We should make a daughter here.’

  His words excited me. I could almost see young girls fluttering about us like butterflies. ‘That’s a wonderful idea,’ I said.

  The sun was so pleasantly warm. The sunlight gleamed on the new salt lick, and its silky white rays were like sprouts shooting up from the salt-laden soil, fresh and radiant.

  We embraced spontaneously, luxuriating like a cool breeze in the spring light. That was our most touching spell of intimacy ever, and the longest. Below me warm salty soil, above me the man I loved, and above the man I loved, blue sky.

  My eyes fastened onto an unbroken white cloud wafting from east to west like a heavenly river. And the lower part of my body flowed a river too, a hidden river only a woman knows, surging solely for the man she loves.

  One day as summer approached, I rose at dawn and went to milk the reindeer when I suddenly passed out. When I came to I found Lajide grinning broadly at me. ‘That new salt lick isn’t bad at all,’ he said gently. ‘Seems your belly is looking after a spotted fawn.’ Then I recalled fainting when I was pregnant with Andaur too, which had given Lajide a terrible fright.

  Just as we were carrying out the annual severing of reindeer antlers, three men arrived in the camp, two of whom we knew: Ludek, the guide, and the interpreter Wang Lu. The third was a Japanese, but not Yoshida. This was Suzuki. He was short and thin, sported a walrus moustache, wore a military uniform, and had a rifle on his back, and ordered liquor and meat upon his arrival. Once they were down in his gut, he commanded us to sing and dance for him.

  Wang Lu said the Japanese had established the Kwantung Army Qilin Forest Brigade Training Camp, which came to be known as the Kwantung Army Garrison, in the eastern part of Uchiriovo. Suzuki had come to gather the Evenki hunters and lead them down from the mountains for training. All males over fourteen were required to participate.

  ‘We are mountain hunters,’ said Lajide. ‘Why should we leave the mountains?’

  ‘You’ll just be gone for a month or so,’ said Wang Lu. ‘The world belongs to the Japanese now, and defying them is just asking for trouble. Best go down from the mountains and put on a show, shout marching songs in unison, practise your riflery, and treat it as a chance to take in the scenery.’

  ‘Isn’t that drafting us to serve in the army?’ Lajide asked. ‘Even if it is, we can’t fight for the Japanese!’

  ‘Who says you’re being drafted?’ said Wang Lu. ‘It’s just training, not war. You’ll be back soon.’

  Lajide sighed. ‘If we’re really going to be forced to join the army and sent to some far-off land, then we should be soldiers like Hailancha.’

  It was my father who told me the story of Hailancha, an Evenki who lived during the early Qing Dynasty. He lost his father in his youth, and his mother died before her time, so he began herding horses for a trader in Hailar while still young. Wolves often attacked the horses until he took up the position. It is said that when he slept, he emitted a roar like a tiger that carried several li. So the wolf packs naturally stayed far away from his grazing herd.

  Hailancha enlisted during the reign of Qing Emperor Qianlong and was dispatched to Xinjiang where he helped put down a revolt by the Dzungar Mongols. He captured a rebel general alive, an act which brought him lasting fame.

  Hailancha was held in high esteem by Emperor Qianlong who later sent him on expeditions to do battle in Myanmar, Taiwan, Tibet and other lands. He became an illustrious Evenki general.

  Father said Hailancha was not only exceptionally courageous, he was also handsome and rugged. ‘One day when you seek a husband, look for someone like Hailancha!’

  I still remember how I shook my head. ‘No, that won’t do! When he sleeps he roars like a tiger. What if he makes me go deaf?’ Father doubled over with laughter.

  ‘Hmph,’ snorted Yveline. ‘If Hailancha were alive today, would the Japanese dare come here? Hailancha chased away those big-nosed British. Would he fear the flat-nosed Japanese dwarfs? I’d be surprised if he didn’t spill their guts!’

  Wang Lu was so alarmed that his lips quivered. ‘This Japanese understands a little Evenki now,’ he told us. ‘Don’t talk nonsense in front of him whatever you do. Heads will roll.’

  ‘A person only has one head,’ said Yveline. ‘If no one cuts it off, in the end it’ll rot on the ground like a piece of overripe fruit. What’s the difference if it’s cut off early or later?’

  Suzuki sensed that the tone of the conversation was a bit tense, so he questioned Wang Lu closely. ‘What are these savages saying?’ He didn’t refer to us as ‘hunting peoples’ like Yoshida.

  ‘The savages say that leaving the mountains for training is a good thing,’ said Wang Lu. ‘They’re keen to go.’

  Suzuki wasn’t convinced. He pointed at Yveline. ‘Then why does this woman look so unhappy?’

  ‘She’s incensed that the training is just for men,’ said quick-thinking Wang Lu. ‘She says mountain women are just as strong as the men, so why not permit women to go too?’

  Suzuki smiled. ‘A good woman. A good woman indeed, and if her nose weren’t crooked she’d be even better!’

  When Wang Lu interpreted this entire exchange, everyone chuckled.

  Yveline laughed too. ‘You tell him that if my nose weren’t crooked, he couldn’t find me here in the mountains. I’d have left to reign as the Empress!’

  She glanced at Kunde and Jindele and sighed. ‘I’ll be happy to see them leave so I can get some peace and quiet. If the Japanese c
an hammer them into shape in the barracks, so much the better!’

  Yveline was willing for Kunde and Jindele to leave her, but Maria was quite the opposite. Dashi was just old enough to receive military training. Maria could stand for her husband Hase to leave, but not Dashi. At the very thought that he might have to undergo hardship, Maria couldn’t hold back her tears.

  Suzuki pointed at Maria and asked: ‘Why is this woman crying?’

  ‘Whenever this woman is happy she cries,’ said Wang Lu. ‘She’s thinking how fortunate her son is. He’s just turned fourteen, otherwise he couldn’t take part in the training. And if he doesn’t undergo training, he won’t be a real man!’

  ‘The women in this urireng are amazing,’ said Suzuki admiringly. Then his eyes turned to Nihau. Nihau was a lamp, and Suzuki’s gaze was a moth inescapably attracted to her flame.

  Nihau was grown up now. Nourished by Luni, she had grown into a full-figured woman. She couldn’t bear for him to leave the mountains either, because she was pregnant and they were enjoying a period of great passion and intimacy.

  Nihau was very astute, so when she realised that Suzuki kept glancing at her, she placed her arm on Luni’s shoulder affectionately to indicate that this was her man.

  The men gathered and left for training in Uchiriovo. As we saw them off from the campsite, the forest was filled with dancing white butterflies. Though the sun was bright, it seemed that the men were veiled in white and walking in snow. A summer with an abundance of white butterflies foreshadows a snowy winter.

  I still recall how Lajide stretched out his hand and snatched a butterfly. ‘Here’s a snow blossom for you,’ he said. Smiling, he opened his fist and the butterfly fluttered towards me, which made all the women seeing off their men laugh merrily.

  ***

  In the first days, those of us who remained in the camp felt very happy. With the severing of antlers now behind us, every day we gathered simply to drink tea, eat and do our chores. But we quickly learned that the men’s absence meant certain tasks became difficult to handle. For example, when the herd returned each day a few reindeer were always missing. Normally, the men would search for them, but now this chore fell to us. Just locating two or three reindeer could eat up half a day.

  We feared wild animals would enter the camp and harm our young in our absence. So I carried Viktor on my back, and placed Andaur in a cradle up in a tree in spite of his wailing.

  Once we came back and brought Andaur down only to find his face covered with blisters. Wasps had taken his delicate pink face for a flower and stung him repeatedly, and he had long ago cried himself hoarse.

  But that wasn’t all. When there are no men, there’s no one to go on the hunt, and Yveline – who was accustomed to eating fresh meat – found it especially trying. The men had taken their rifles with them, but even if we had guns they’d have been useless in our inexperienced hands.

  Remembering that Lajide and I had built a salt lick, Yveline decided to go hunting on her own. She took a spear from Ivan’s shirangju. Nihau and I, both pregnant, were to remain behind while she and Maria went to lie in wait at the salt lick.

  They went three nights in a row but came back empty-handed, their faces as pale as a sunless dawn. But Yveline wasn’t downcast. She was determined, and on the fourth day, she went with Maria once again. That day a light rain fell, and deer love to come out the night after a rainfall. So when they set out Yveline was bursting with confidence. ‘Bring out the pot for stewing meat. My spear will come in handy today for sure!’

  And Yveline was true to her word. At dawn next day, she and Maria brought back a fawn. The spear had pierced the fawn right at the throat. Knowing how deer like to move against the wind, Yveline and Maria had hidden in a thicket downwind. Towards dawn they heard the cha-la cha-la sound of chomping, and a doe and a fawn appeared at the salt lick.

  Yveline decided to go for the fawn because it had its side to her, making its throat a natural target, while the doe’s rump faced her.

  Maria said Yveline sent the spear flying like a thunderbolt – shwa – and the fawn flipped onto the salt lick. While Maria was recounting all this in high spirits, I felt a wave of painful spasms. I had conceived a child at that salt lick, and I didn’t like to imagine a doe losing her young offspring there.

  We constructed a three-sided hut, severed the deer’s head, and hung it for a wind-burial. Then we removed the organs, took them inside the shirangju and offered them as a sacrifice to the Malu.

  After Nihau retrieved Nidu the Shaman’s ritual items and Spirit Garb, they remained with her. Lajide said you could tell from Nihau’s behaviour that she might become a Shaman, so the Malu formerly worshipped by Nidu the Shaman were placed in Nihau’s shirangju.

  The Malu I had longed to see as a child were finally revealed to me during the rite for the fawn that Yveline had killed. The twelve Spirit Figurines were stored inside a deerskin pouch. First among them is ‘Shewek’, our Ancestral Spirit. Actually, it’s a single wood carving of a male and a female. They have hands and feet, ears and eyes, and are even dressed in a set of tiny deerskin clothing. Their lips have been coated in so much animal blood that they’ve turned purple.

  All the other Spirits are related to the Chief Spirit, Shewek. Shewek likes the sound of drumbeats, so a small deerskin drum has been made for It; Shewek likes to fly atop a Gaahi bird, so a Gaahi hide keeps It company; and Shewek likes to ride reindeer, so a halter and reins have been given to It.

  Inside the deerskin pouch were also squirrel, teal and kerunacha pelts; a Snake Spirit crafted from sheet iron; a sparrow-shaped Umai Spirit of white birch, which looks after young children; a Bear Spirit; and an Along Spirit of curved larch branches, which protects our reindeer.

  As Nihau explained the Spirit Figurines to me, a shwa-shwa wind-sound echoed in my ears. It came from the Spirit Figurines.

  ‘How come you understand so much about the Figurines?’ I asked her.

  She told me she saw her grandfather carve such statuettes when she was very young, so she knew the domains of each.

  I gazed at those figurines made of wood and animal hides for a long time. They all originated in the mountain forests where we lived. This gave me faith that if they could really protect us, our happiness must lie within the mountain forests, not elsewhere. Although they weren’t as beautiful or mysterious as I’d imagined, the magic gusts of wind they fabricated made my ears flutter like birds’ wings, and filled me with reverence. It is surely because I once heard wind-sounds like those that my ears and eyes remain sharp today.

  That evening we lit a bonfire in the camp, ate meat and drank baijiu, the clear distilled liquor we love. Yveline and Nihau drank too much, but they expressed their drunkenness quite distinctively: Yveline wept while Nihau sang. Because it was accompanied by Yveline’s crying, Nihau’s spur-of-the-moment song was bleak. One lost herself in tears, the other in song.

  This crying and singing made the two horses whinny in fright. Maria was so anxious that she rushed over to them; afraid they’d snap their tethers and leave the camp. When Dashi left for Uchiriovo, he hated parting with his horses. Again and again he told Maria to look after them attentively, where to take them for grazing, and at which ravine they should drink. He gave specific instructions for everything. After Dashi left, Maria cared for those horses as lovingly as if they were her very eyes.

  I’ve had many lovely nights during my lifetime, and this one in which the sounds of weeping and singing melted together counts among them. We waited until the campfire grew faint before retiring to our shirangju. That night the wind was very cool. Andaur slept while Viktor cuddled up against me and pestered me for a story. So I told him a tale Lajide had told me.

  Lajide said when his grandfather was young he once went into the mountains to engage in a traditional ‘surround hunt’. The men couldn’t return to their campsite the same day, so they constructed a shirangju. All seven slept inside, each occupying his own space.

  Lajide’s
grandfather awoke in the middle of the night needing to pee and discovered it was very bright inside. A round moon hung at the top of the shirangju. He looked at the moon, then at the sleeping men, and noticed that each had struck a distinct pose: a crouching tiger, a coiled snake, or a squatting bear in hibernation. Lajide’s grandfather realised that under a full moon humans reveal their true colours. From their sleeping positions, you can tell what they were before – a reincarnated hare or lynx or tiger, and so on.

  ‘What was Ama’s grandfather in his former life?’ Viktor asked.

  ‘When he’s awake he hasn’t any way of knowing what he looks like when asleep,’ I said.

  ‘Then I’m not going to sleep tonight,’ said Viktor. ‘I want to see what Eni was reincarnated from.’

  I smiled. ‘It’s not a full moon so you won’t be able to see Eni’s former self.’ I held Viktor tight, looked up at the stars over the shirangju, and yearned for Lajide.

  We’d assumed the men would return in the autumn, but they’d been gone two months and there was still no news. We moved three times in the vicinity of the old camp, but eventually we had to undertake a major relocation because there were no longer any reindeer moss or fungi nearby. The reindeer roamed further and further afield, and at times didn’t return for two days. Even tethering their fawns at the campsite to bring back the reluctant does was of no use, and we had a very tough time searching for those stray reindeer.

  ‘We must leave here,’ said Yveline. So we all put our possessions in order and followed the Bistaré River south-west.

  The things we didn’t need urgently we stored in a kolbo, taking just the necessities for survival. With two horses and more than seventy reindeer, we set off.

  I walked at the very front and hacked tree markers with an axe. ‘Let’s not leave any markers behind,’ said Yveline mischievously. ‘The men will be frantic when they return if they don’t know where we’ve gone.’

  ‘Winter is almost here,’ I said. ‘If they can’t find us, who’ll hunt for us? How will we get meat?’