“Why do you have to do this, Dad?” Jinlong said. “By going against the tide of socialism, aren’t you just looking in a mirror to see how ugly you are? I may be young, but I have the feeling there’s a class war coming. For people like us, with no red roots to fall back on, going with the tide may be the only way to avoid disaster. Going against the tide is like throwing an egg at a rock!”
“That’s why I want you to join the commune. I’m a hired hand, what do I have to be afraid of? I’m forty years old, a man who never did much of anything. So what happens? I make a name for myself by being an independent farmer. Ha ha, ha ha ha ha.” He laughed so hard, tears ran down his blue face. He turned to Mother. “Put some dry rations together for me,” he said. “I’m going to appeal my case.”
By this time, Mother was crying. “I’ve stayed with you all these years,” she said. “I can’t leave you now. Let the children join the commune. I’ll stay and work with you.”
“No,” he said. “With your bad background, joining the commune is your only protection. If you stay with me, they have all the reason they’ll need to dredge up your background, and that’ll just mean more trouble for me.”
“Dad,” I blurted out, “I want to farm with you!” “Nonsense! You’re a child, what do you know?” “I know, I know a lot. I hate Hong Taiyue, Huang Tong, and that bunch as much as you do. And Wu Qiuxiang disgusts me. Who does she think she is, with her bitchy dog’s eyes and a mouth that looks like an asshole? What gives her the right to come to our house and pretend she’s some kind of progressive?” Mother glared at me. “What kind of talk is that from a child?” “I’m going to farm with you, Dad,” I said. “When you take out the fertilizer, I’ll drive the oxcart. With its wooden wheels, it lets everyone know it’s coming – creak creak – I love the sound. We’ll be independents, individual heroes. I envy you, Dad, and I’m going to stay with you. I don’t need to go to school. I never was much of a student. As soon as class starts, I doze off. Dad, half your face is blue, and I’m half a blue face. Two blue faces, how can you separate that? People laugh at me because of my birthmark. Well, let them laugh, they can laugh themselves to death, for all I care. Two blue-faced independent farmers, the only ones in the county, the only ones in the province. That makes me proud. Dad, you have to say okay!”
He did. I wanted to go with him to appeal his case, but he told me to stay home and take care of the young ox. Mother took some pieces of jewelry out of a hole in the wall and gave them to me. Obviously, there were gaps in the land reform campaign, and she had managed to hold on to some valuables. Dad sold the jewelry for traveling money, then he went to see County Chief Chen, the man who had indirectly destroyed our donkey, and asked for the right to remain an independent farmer. Father argued his case forcefully. In terms of policy, Chen said, you’re free to farm independently. But I hope you choose not to. County Chief, Dad said, in the name of that black donkey of ours, I’d like you to issue me a guarantee that gives me the authority to farm on my own. Once I post that on my wall, no one will dare attack me. Ah, that black donkey… a good animal, the chief remarked emotionally. I owe you for what happened. I can’t give you the kind of pass you want, but I can give you a letter that explains your situation to the Farming Village Labor Bureau of the Provincial Party Committee. So Dad took the letter to the provincial capital, where he was received by the Labor Bureau head, who also tried to convince him to join the commune. Father refused. If Chairman Mao issues an order outlawing independent farming, I’ll join. If not, I won’t. Moved by Father’s intransigence, the Labor Bureau head wrote two lines at the bottom of the county chief’s letter: While it is our wish that all farmers join the People’s Communes and walk the path of collectivization, anyone who refuses to join is within his right to do so. Low-level organizations may not use coercive measures, especially illegal means, to force anyone to join a commune.
Father placed this letter, which was like an imperial edict, in a glass frame and hung it on his wall. He had returned from the provincial capital in high spirits. Now that Mother and Jinlong and Baofeng had joined the commune, only three-point-two acres of the original eight, which were completely surrounded by land belonging to the collective, remained for us to farm, a narrow strip of land like a levee trying to hold back an ocean. In accord with his wish to be independent, Father built a new room, walled it off from the other three, and opened a new door. He added a stove and a kang, and that’s where he and I lived. Beyond this room and the ox shed against the southern wall, we owned three-point-two acres of land, a young ox, a cart with wooden wheels, a wooden plow, a hoe, an iron shovel, two scythes, a little spade, a pitchfork with two tines, a wok, four rice bowls, two ceramic plates, a chamber pot, a cleaver, a spatula, a kerosene lamp, and a flint.
Admittedly, there were many things we lacked, but we’d slowly add whatever we needed. Dad patted me on the head.
“Son, why in the world do you want to farm with me like this?”
Without a second thought, I replied:
“Looks like fun!”
14
Ximen Ox Angrily Confronts Wu Qiuxiang
Hong Taiyue Happily Praises Lan Jinlong
During the months of April and May 1965, while my father was making an appeal in the provincial capital, Jinlong and Baofeng joined the People’s Commune with my mother. On that day, a solemn ceremony was held in the Ximen estate compound. Hong Taiyue spoke from the steps of the main house. The chests of my mother, Jinlong, and Baofeng were decorated with large red paper flowers; a red cloth was tied to our iron plow. My brother, Jinlong, delivered an impassioned speech expressing his determination to hew to the path of socialism. He was normally not much of a talker, so everyone was taken by surprise. To be honest, it turned me off. I hid out in the ox shed, with my arms around your neck out of a fear that they’d come and take you away with them. Before setting out, Father had said to me: Son, be sure to take good care of our ox. We needn’t worry as long as we have him, because then we’ll be able to hold out as independent farmers. I gave him my word, you heard me. Remember? I said, Dad, go now and come back as soon as you can. If I’m here, the ox will be here. He rubbed the horns that had just started growing on your head and said: Ox, you do as he says. We won’t be able to harvest the wheat for another six weeks, so there won’t be enough for you to eat. Let him take you out where there’s wild grass, which will tide you over till we bring in the wheat. I saw tears in Mother’s eyes as she glanced our way from time to time. This wasn’t the path she’d wanted to take, but she had no choice. As for Jinlong, though he was only seventeen, he already had definite views of things, and the force of his words seemed to frighten Mother, at least a little. I could tell that her feelings for Father weren’t as strong as those she’d held for Ximen Nao. She married him because she had to. And her feelings for me weren’t as strong as those she held for Jinlong and Baofeng. Two different men’s seed. But I was still her son, and she worried about me, even if she didn’t want to. Mo Yan led a bunch of schoolboys in shouting slogans outside the ox shed: