Читать книгу A Time of Ghosts - Hok-Pang Tang - Страница 7

Before the Revolution my summers were made happy by trips to the country estate of Grandma Hsü. She was not really my grandmother but she treated me as kindly as one. These visits were the result of an early friendship of my father with Grandma Hsü’s son, a lively wastrel who had a very pretty younger sister. Romance had once blossomed between that young lady and my father in the days before he met my mother. It was cut short by Grandma Hsü herself, who felt that my father’s prospects for the future were slim. And so the pretty girl was married off to a rich man.

Later, when my father had achieved both status and wealth, Grandma Hsü seemed to regret her early rejection of him, and she contrived the plan that I, as the son of a prosperous family, would marry her granddaughter in the future. So I was always welcome in those warm summer days, and was already treated like one of the family.

After the Revolution my father and I paid our last visit to the country estate of Grandma Hsü, but it was no pleasure trip. She had been stripped of her wealth by the Communists. Her land deeds were taken from her and she was ordered to return “exploited” wealth to the peasants. They hauled off her furniture and emptied her closets, then took her in handcuffs from her city home in Canton to Seundak (Shunde) in the countryside.

That is what brought us on our final visit. My father knew she was being tortured, and he was foolish enough to think that if he, a learned judge, pointed out to her tormentors the illegality of their actions, they would leave the miserable old woman alone. I was sent along because my mother thought they might not hurt my father if he was with a child.

The river journey was depressing and gloomy. The small transport boat stank of animals. Every bit of space was filled by the sleeping bodies of other passengers. My father was sullen and silent throughout. When we arrived at Seundak there was no one to greet us at the landing. The village seemed deserted, and we hurried as we walked to the home of a farming family, old friends of my father. We expected a warm welcome, but when they saw us we were treated coldly and rudely, and were offered neither food nor drink.

We soon found that a Communist land reform team was in the village, preparing the peasants for a big meeting. They were very curious about us and asked the farming family who my father might be. They seemed very interested to hear that he was a friend of the “landlord,” Grandma Hsü.

The land reform team offered to lead us to her. They took us through the village to an open, flat area where rice was formerly dried. There a bamboo platform some two feet high had been constructed. Above it was strung a long, horizontal red banner with large black characters on white paper. It read: “OVERTURN THE BLOOD-DRINKING LANDLORD CLASS!” And on each side of the platform was a vertical banner, one reading “RETURN MY RENT!” and the other “A BLOOD DEBT REQUIRES A BLOOD PAYMENT!”

My father and I were told to sit down on the ground in front of the stage. It was muddy, and I did not want to sit. I was afraid I would dirty my clothes and then my mother would complain. People behind us shouted “Sit down! Sit Down!” I was not used to such behavior, and felt offended. So I continued to stand, as did my father.

Several members of the crowd stormed up, put their hands on my shoulders, and pushed down on me until I was forced to sit. To my father they snarled, “Would you rather sit here or up there?” as they pointed to the platform, meaning they were threatening him with judgment. He sat down beside me in the dirt.

It was an uncomfortably hot day. We had been long without food and drink. When I asked repeatedly for water, the townspeople shouted “Shut up!”

Then a very shocking thing happened. Grandma Hsü was brought into the crowd. She looked terrible. Her weak old body was bent down by two heavy wooden billboards – one on her front, one on her back. Ponderous metal chains were on her legs. Her hands were tied behind her. She was half-pulled, half-dragged up to the platform, and was supposed to get up onto the stage, but with the heavy boards weighing her down she could not make it. They grabbed her hair, using it and her bound hands to pull her up.

The crowd burst into angry chants: “Support Communism! Support the Land Reform Movement! Overturn landlords!”

The sweltering heat, the harsh screaming, and the hideous sight of poor old Grandma Hsü made me dizzy. The leaders of the meeting launched into brief, animated speeches that culminated with the bringing of the old lady’s possessions up onto the stage for public display. The peasants were shown her Western clothing. Then came two scales she supposedly used to cheat people. Then a bloodstained garment was waved before the crowd as “evidence” that she had killed her brother. When she tried to speak in self-defense, her head was pushed down. This horrifying drama was carried on in a constant barrage of shrieked invective. Papers were brought forth, apparently rental forms, which they tried to burn.

I could take no more. I was overexcited and exhausted. I stood up and made my way out through the crowd. No one tried to stop me. I wandered about until I came upon a dirty stream. I drank from it, filthy as it was. I was worn out. I could not think, nor did I want to think. Finally hunger pulled me back to the stage area.

People were still shouting. I saw my father standing in front below the stage, trying unsuccessfully to speak to the maddened crowd. They were having none of it, and I could see he was very troubled and frightened. I walked right up to him and whined about food.

They let us go, with orders that we were not to leave the village but were to spend the night there. We could find nowhere to eat. The only restaurant was closed. No one would give us food. Finally, as we passed a small house, a door squeaked open and a hand waved us quickly inside. It was a distant relative of a friend of my father. He warned us to leave for Canton immediately, but Father argued. He wanted to stay and try to help Grandma Hsü.

Our very nervous host brought out some dry rice-powder cake and a pot of poor tea. He apologized for not being able to offer better, and the respect in his voice helped to make up for the bad food. He made clear to my father that we were in serious danger, and again urged us to leave. Father insisted that we must remain and speak with Grandma Hsü.

That night we went to her former home and saw her – fingers all bloody from bamboo splinters that had been driven under the nails – hair disheveled and dirty – and she seemed to have aged decades.

She and my father talked a long while. Then he turned and gave me a small amount of money. I was to hurry with it to the house of the man who had helped us and to leave it with him as thanks. “Come back immediately,” Father urged me, but I needed no coaxing.

While I was gone he somehow managed to hire a man to help us escape. We were to leave upon my return, but something went wrong. There were no boats to be found in the darkness, and we had to spend the night at Grandma Hsü’s house.

Early in the morning I awoke tired and woozy. The house was empty. I went outside and no one was about. I heard screaming and chanting coming from the far side of the village. Curious, I followed the sound, and came to a large gathering of people. They seemed to be watching something. I could not see what it was, so I pushed through to the front. There I saw Grandma Hsü half-buried in the mud. Beside her was a great mound of dirt. They were burying her alive and packing down the soil around the body with their feet. I stood there stunned and helpless, knowing there was nothing I could do.

Hands grabbed my arms, and a man pulled me out of the crowd and away. He took me to a house, pushed me inside, and told me to stay there. Then he locked the door and left.

I waited for what seemed an endless time. At last the door opened, and there, to my relief, was my father.

It was late in the day. After a hurried meal of more foul-tasting rice-powder cakes, we set off after sunset down a dark road. I must have been very exhausted. I dimly recall someone picking me up and carrying me on his back. Finally we came to the edge of the river and boarded a tiny sampan in the darkness. I fell asleep immediately and when I awoke we were back in Canton.

My father had somehow managed to negotiate a deal with the farmers in Seundak. He was to send them money for Granny Hsü’s release. The money was sent. Eventually she was freed, but not long after came word that she had died.