A century of poverty

Chapter 57 The Bitterness of Reunion

We got up immediately, and then my younger brother ran over. We tidied up the shop and our belongings, and then Dad took us to the bus station. The daytime visibility was good, and we could see that the "Big Cart Inn" was not far from the bus station, just across the street, about halfway across the street.

As we boarded the car to go "home," my heart was still filled with excitement and anticipation, because once we arrived home, I would see my mother, brother, sister, and other relatives. It had been more than a month since we last saw each other. I wondered how they were doing.

Before reaching the village, more than two miles from Dagoubang Station, my father asked the driver and conductor, "Could you please stop here for us? My elderly mother is over seventy years old, has poor eyesight, and has bound feet. It will be very difficult for her to get off at the station and walk back." The driver and conductor sympathetically stopped the bus where we needed to.

I got off the bus, my feet stepping onto the land of Jinhai. Everything was so new and exciting. Last night's rain had left the air fresh and moist, and this morning's sunlight made the land and the black road surface look as if they had been washed clean. The irises by the roadside were glistening with dewdrops. Ignoring the slippery roadside, I ran over and picked a few blossoms. Holding them in my hand, I smelled their fragrance and walked on, inhaling it as I walked.

By this time, Mom had crossed the bridge and was waiting for us on the county road. Huan'er was on the bridge, followed by the landlady and the neighbors' children.

Mom came forward to help Grandma: "I've been watching the county road these past few days. Just now I saw a bus stop, and a group of people got off—it was you all, so come quickly to greet us." I ran to Mom and happily followed her, and the adults greeted us warmly.

Walking down the county road required extra caution. The dirt road was full of potholes, mud, and slippery. Mom helped Grandma, and we swerved and took small steps, our shoes still covered in mud. When the street was lower than the main road, it became even more difficult to walk.

Arriving at the door of our home, we found ourselves in a courtyard on either side, with a narrow path, barely a meter wide, already smudged with mud from pig and duck tracks. Our thick-soled cloth shoes, worn from the interior, offered no foothold. The joy of arriving home was abruptly dampened by the muddy path. After a long and arduous journey, we finally reached the door of our "home," only to be met with utter disappointment.

The striking feature was an unfinished red brick house, its windows covered by large pieces of old plastic that rattled in the wind. This was the landlord: Liu Zhenguo, the Party Secretary of the Da Liu Jia Brigade.

We live in a low "house" next to the front garden. It hardly looks like a home.

It's even worse than what we saw on the train.

This is the earthquake shelter in Secretary Liu's courtyard. It has earthen walls and a roof covered with reeds. Even adults have to crouch to get in, and if you're not careful, you'll bump your head on the cement frame of the crossbeam.

We stood in the yard, and Mom helped Grandma inside first.

After Huan'er and I entered the courtyard, she said goodbye and left.

We followed one after another into the house. Inside, there was a small stove connected to a heated kang (a traditional Chinese bed). A one-foot-high "wall" separated them; if you were a restless sleeper, you could easily roll into the stove. The floor was barely a meter wide. Firewood for cooking was stored along the wall, and there was a one-square-meter window on the south wall inside the kang.

The family's joy at being reunited was ruined by their living environment.

The low, oppressive shed was stifling; I didn't want to stay there for even a moment longer.

Mom lifted the makeshift "curtain" hanging by the door and started cooking. Smoke and steam filled the room within minutes. Grandma sat on the kang (a heated brick bed) by the window, sighing sadly. I came out and stood outside the door, looking towards the front yard.

A little while later, Third Sister entered the courtyard. Unlike us, she didn't walk unsteadily; it turned out she was wearing paddy field boots. Her beige shirt was covered in mud spots, and her dark gray trousers were stained with mud like a map. She was carrying two wet arm sleeves in her hands.

With her eyes slightly open beneath her broad forehead, she walked towards us blankly.

I called out, "Third Sister!"

She gave a blank "hmm".

The older brothers who came in later reacted normally when they saw us, and they chatted and laughed during the meal.

After dinner, the family sat on the kang (a heated brick bed), and Dad told Mom and the others how to tidy up the house. He said that if they felt they couldn't stay there any longer, they could go back home.

The older brother said, "The land here is vast, with far more land per person than in the interior. Making a living here shouldn't be a problem."

The third sister said, "We can survive in our hometown, so why do we have to come here to make a living when we can't even get a clean drink of water?"

My older brother told my father, "When we first arrived here, Liu Zhenyi told us that there were two production brigades to choose from when settling down in Liuhe Farm. He borrowed two bicycles; I rode one, and Wang Fa rode the other. Brother Liu rode his own bicycle and took us to see the Linjia Production Brigade, where the soil was more fertile. Although the soil here is a bit thinner, the roads are better, transportation is more convenient, and it's closer to the city, so I chose to stay here. Wang Fa didn't object; he said, 'Wherever you are, I will be.' That's how we settled down here."

"By the way, we've been out here for over a month, what's new inside the pass?"

Father: "No, it's just that young Ma Shouren went back to Tianjin to study at Nankai University. This young man is smart. You see, he gave up his quota to go back to the city to work as a laborer. This time, he went to Nankai University without hesitation."

"We have to work tomorrow. Let's see where we can sleep. This kang (heated brick bed) isn't big enough. Why don't you take Shuangfei to stay at Liu Zhen's house? They only have boys, so it'll be easier for them."

The eldest brother said, "Okay, Wang Fa and his wife live in the lower house now. Huan'er and the others have moved out and have their own house." After saying that, he left with his second brother.

Dad asked Mom, "Is it alright staying here?"

Mom: "Oh no! We'll regret this now."

Dad: "Then why don't you go back? Didn't I give you money for your round-trip fare?"

Mom: "The money isn't in my hands. You gave it to me for travel expenses, but I handed it over to Shuangxing for safekeeping once we got here. I've never managed money in my life. I don't have a good place to put it. There's no door in this room, and I don't feel safe carrying it on my person."

Third sister: "My mother and I wanted to go back, but my brother wouldn't let us. My mother asked him for travel expenses, but he refused and even yelled at her, 'You can't go back! It'll be too embarrassing and shameful to go back.'"

Father: "The reason we only came here is to wait at home. If you can't stand it here, then go back. Why didn't you even write a letter?"

Mother: "I'm illiterate, and Xia Lian can't write either."

Father understood; it was his eldest son who didn't want to go back: "If he didn't want to go back, he didn't want to go back. Apart from the things we brought, we haven't thrown away any of our belongings. They're all stored in the house. We still have a home and a yard. We can go back in two or three years."

The next morning, as she was getting dressed, my third sister stood up and bumped her head on a cement strip on the roof, causing a bump. The roof of this shed was made of cement strips attached to the wall.

The goods arrived, but there was no room in the cramped room, so they had to be placed at the end of the kang (a heated brick bed). This took up space meant for both of them.

The landlady said, "If there's not enough room, Xia Lian and her three granddaughters can stay in the east room of her house."

The younger brother slept on the pile of rotten rice that his mother had carried from the threshing ground.

The whole family gathered, but they were all cramped and uncomfortable living in this shed. They took turns sleeping in the shed at night, and Grandma was always frowning and sighing. Fourth Sister got diarrhea as soon as she arrived and went to the toilet several times a day, but there was no toilet here, so she had to go back inside to empty her bladder.

The drinking water was from the puddles where ducks and geese bathed and played, drawn from the flowing water canals. It was also where large livestock drank water and pigs urinated.

Think of your own yard, your house, and the old well with its sweet water at the east end of the village.

The mother also has a hidden pain in her heart. Her eldest son is of marriageable age, but his marriage prospects are not good back in their hometown. He came here to prove himself. Her eldest son often yells at her, which makes her very sad. She can't show it, so she can only endure it silently.

The son of Secretary Liu's eldest daughter, the Liu family's nephew, is a boy of twelve or thirteen. His house is two gates away from his maternal grandmother's house. Perhaps our living at his maternal grandmother's house has affected him in some way, because whenever he sees the women in our family, he starts chanting a set of phrases: "Don't befriend old men from Shandong, they treat dog XX like chili peppers, take a bite, and it stinks and smells..." He repeats it over and over again, as if afraid we wouldn't understand.

The bitterness of leaving one's hometown and living under someone else's roof is something that mothers have experienced most deeply.

Grandma's sorrow stemmed from the sadness of leaving her hometown and the difficulty adapting to the local climate. Her mother took care of everything, and she lived a life of ease, never lifting a finger.

Father's troubles stemmed from a sense of loss and melancholy due to the lack of interpersonal relationships and the absence of kinship and affection from his ancestors in his hometown; and from the difficulty and uncertainty of arriving in a completely new world, where he was completely clueless and had to start all over again from scratch.

My third sister, fourth sister, and I all felt a significant difference in our lives, stemming from changes in climate, interpersonal relationships, lifestyle, work habits, and the limited variety and scarcity of food. This was a challenge our whole family faced.

My mother experienced all of our maladjustment, and she had it all, but even more deeply. We can vent our frustrations or find some comfort within our own social circles, but she had no circle outside of family.

She had to watch her grandmother's and father's expressions to act properly. If she was not careful, her grandmother would blame her, and her father would take revenge on her grandmother.

Cooking and laundry were practical problems that presented numerous difficulties, and as the pillar of the family, she also had to shoulder responsibilities and silently endure hardships. Her frustration had no outlet. Her eldest son's lack of respect for her caused her heartache and further diminished her hope for the future.

At night, she would often go to the side of the street ditch or a place hidden by stacks of firewood and grass to cry secretly. Sometimes her fourth sister would come out with her and cry too.

Once, my mother was crying sadly by the ditch when a 30-year-old girl from next door saw her and thought my mother was contemplating suicide.

He rushed over and said, "Sister-in-law, what's wrong? Try to think positively. Go home quickly, I'll take you home."

Mom: "It's okay, I'm just feeling down, I'll be fine in a bit." After saying that, she wiped her tears with her clothes and went home.

It's been over a month, and my fourth sister's diarrhea hasn't stopped, but we can't figure out what's wrong with her.

The director of Jinhai Hospital is a renowned doctor who served in the Korean War. He is also from Lizhuangtuo, and is Li Kongzhi's cousin.

He offered a folk remedy: the child might be suffering from acclimatization issues. He suggested that someone go back to their hometown and bring back a handful of soil to put in a water vat; perhaps that would help.