Authors: Yan Lianke
For instance, if people wanted to open a road, build a bridge over the creek running through the bottom of the gorge, build a reservoir, or clean out the village well after leaves, branches, or a child’s hat or shoe had fallen in—or after someone jumped into the well himself in a moment of despair, thereby contaminating the water and making it necessary to dredge the well and scrub its inner walls—Grandma Mao Zhi would take responsibility for handling these things, since there was no one else in the village who could.
And, of course, there was also the annual livening festival.
But this famine year the festival ended up being organized by Chief Liu himself. Even without Grandma Mao Zhi, Liven was still a bustling community. When Chief Liu left Grandma Mao Zhi’s house, he had been in Liven for nine days. On four of those days there had been good weather, and many people had already begun planting corn in the pockmarked fields, but because both the slope and the flat fields had absorbed so much water, it was advisable to let them dry out for several more days before planting. As for the grain funds that had been brought in from the county seat, Secretary Shi would have to return with the survey and some cash before nightfall. Of course, it was necessary to hold the livening festival now, in order to distribute the grain funds to the people. The government looks after its people, and the people should remember the government’s kindness; this is the way things had been for thousands of years.
In the end, Grandma Mao Zhi did not show up to organize the livening festival. But actually, Chief Liu had not even really asked her to host it, since he was afraid that if she did show up, she might say and do things that would confuse everyone. For better or worse, however, she was seventy-one years old, and a survivor of the events around the
bingzi
year, 1936, and the only villager who had been to Yan’an. The higher-ups regarded her as a member of the older generation who had participated in the Revolution, and therefore someone who must be respected. Chief Liu consequently had no choice but to go and speak to her. Though how could she imagine that he wouldn’t be able to host a tiny livening festival without her help?
What a joke!
After visiting Grandma Mao Zhi’s house, Chief Liu went straight to the old honey locust
tree in the center of the village to ring the bell. The sun was directly overhead, and a group of cripples had gathered in the clearing near the tree to have lunch. Among them were an old carpenter and several younger men. Apart from one man who was missing a leg, the others had never used crutches. Holding their rice bowls, they stood up to greet Chief Liu. They lifted bowls and asked with a smile, “County Chief, have you eaten yet?”
Chief Liu replied, “I have. And you?”
The cripples said, “We just finished. Why don’t you come to our house to have a few bites.”
Chief Liu replied, “No, thank you,” then asked, “Would you like to take part in a livening festival?”
The young cripples’ faces started glowing, and they said, “Yes, of course. Who wouldn’t? We’ve all been waiting for Grandma Mao Zhi to host one.”
Chief Liu stared at them. “So, if she doesn’t host it, you won’t participate?”
A young cripple asked, “If she doesn’t host it, then who will?”
Chief Liu said, “I will.”
The young cripple said, “The county chief certainly has a sense of humor!”
Chief Liu said, “I’m serious. I’ll host it.”
The cripples stared at him in astonishment. After studying him carefully and seeing that he wasn’t joking, they all turned away. The older cripple looked off into the distance while eating his lunch, and said,
“Chief Liu, there are one hundred and ninety-seven of us here in Liven, of which there are thirty-five blind people, forty-seven deaf people, and thirty-three cripples, together with several dozen more who are missing an arm or a finger, have an extra finger, stunted growth, or some other handicap. Does the county chief want to see us make a spectacle of ourselves?”
Chief Liu turned slightly pale. He replied to the older cripple, “I know you are a carpenter, and can carve with lightning speed. I certainly don’t want to see you make a spectacle of yourself. I am your parental official, and therefore am in effect your parent. All eight hundred and ten thousand inhabitants of the county are my virtual children, and I need to look after what they eat and wear. After your midsummer blizzard, I was here the next day with rescue funds and grain. Therefore, tomorrow I want to organize a livening festival, at which I will personally give each of you a ration of funds and grain. If you attend the festival, you will receive grain and money, quite possibly more than you would normally receive in a normal year. If you don’t attend, however, you won’t receive anything.”
Everyone stared at him.
Chief Liu walked away.
He left before they were able to see anything in his face. In this village, there was only this one road, which was also a street. The sun shone down furiously, and even the chickens and pigs tried to hide in the shadow of the wall. The county chief was muscular but rather short and fat, and his shadow was only half as long as he was tall. This black shadow followed behind him like a silent ball. He was wearing a pair of leather sandals that slapped loudly on the ground, and he walked very briskly without looking back, as if he were angry.
In front of him, the village’s oxcart wheel bell was hanging from the honey locust tree. The tree was as thick as a man’s waist, and at the height of a person’s head there was a branch as wide as a plate, from which the bell was hanging. Because the villagers were afraid the wire holding up the bell might cut into the tree branch, they had padded it with rubber shoe soles. Chief Liu saw not only the bell, but also the rubber padding. The old honey locust tree gave off a scent of fresh sprouts, while the rubber padding emitted a mildewed smell. The bell, rubber tire, and metal wire all emitted a sharp oxidized odor. Needless to say, the bell had not been used for several years, the last time anyone rang it having perhaps been before the land redistribution campaign of the
wuwu
Year of the Horse, 1978. When other villages wanted to hold an occasional meeting, they would ring a bell to call the meeting to order if they didn’t have a horn to blow. In Liven and the surrounding county and township, however, everyone remembers the meeting times, and it is very unusual for anyone to sound the bell.
But it was evident that Chief Liu intended to ring the bell himself, thereby once again using it to summon everyone together. He had walked over to where the bell was hanging, and was about to look for the brick used to strike it, when One-Legged Monkey, who had been eating with the older cripple, suddenly grabbed his crutches and hobbled up behind him.
“Chief Liu,” he shouted, his face turning scarlet.
Chief Liu turned around.
“You don’t need to strike the bell. I’ll go door-to-door notifying everyone for you. In the past, whenever there was an event of some sort, this is what Grandma Mao Zhi would always have me do.” Having said this, he grabbed his crutches and headed off in the direction of the blind area of the village. He walked very briskly, his right crutch lightly touching the ground as his left foot left the ground, and as he was waiting for his left foot to come back down again, he would lean into his right leg. He wasn’t walking as much as he was hopping, but in this way was able to proceed as fast as a wholer could. In no time, he arrived at a blind man’s house, and entered through the main gate.
Chief Liu was right behind him, staring in astonishment at his hop-running, as if he were watching a deer or a small horse galloping along a mountain pass.
In this way, One-Legged Monkey notified each household.
He called out, “Hey, Lead Blind Man, tomorrow morning there’ll be a livening festival. The county chief wants to distribute grain and funds. Whoever doesn’t attend runs the risk of starvation!”
He called out, “Hey, Fourth Blind Man, tomorrow there will be a livening festival, though of course if you plan to starve to death next spring there is no need for you to attend!”
He called out, “Hey, Crippled Auntie, didn’t you say you wanted to see the county chief? Then you should turn out for the livening festival tomorrow.”
He said, “Little Piglet, why don’t you run home and tell your parents that tomorrow at the break of dawn a three-day livening festival will begin.”
And in this way, everyone was notified.
When the sun came up the next day and the eastern sky was enveloped in a rosy glow, everyone finished breakfast and proceeded to the main field in the village. The weather was warm and pleasant, and there was a slight breeze. The men were all wearing loose-fitting gowns, while the women wore comfortable blouses. The field was a large clearing that was as flat as the surface of a lake. Originally, this was used as the communal threshing ground, but after the land was redistributed it came to be used as the blind men’s threshing ground, and therefore whenever the villagers held an event, they would always attempt to include the blind men. The blind men in Liven were well looked after, like babies who are always given a few extra gulps of breast milk. Although this was now the blind men’s field, the village would use it whenever there was a public event for which everyone needed to gather together. The field therefore came to be used as the village’s meeting space and performance stage. It was one
mu
in size, with one side abutting the road, two sides abutting a set of fields, and along the fourth side a three-foot
-
high earthen dam, on top of which there was a pockmarked slope.
The owner of this slope was fifty-three years old. He had only one arm; the other was merely a stub. But even with only one arm, he could still plow the fields, turn the soil, and use a hoe to smooth the earth. When people came to observe the festivities during the livening festival each year, if there wasn’t enough room for them in the main field, they would go over and sit on that pockmarked slope. The slope had been plowed and hoed, but after being trampled for three straight days, it was left as flat as a pancake. After the livening festival, the owner once again needed to hoe and turn the soil, and as he was using his ox to plow the field a second time, he complained vehemently that people had destroyed his field. But even as he was complaining vociferously, he continued smiling broadly.
Once, someone noticed that after the harvest every year, the one-armed landlord would invariably go and plow his field beforehand. The person said, “Uncle, the livening festival has not even taken place yet. What’s the point of plowing the field now, if it will only be trampled flat again?” After looking around to make sure no one else was listening, he laughed softly and said, “Nephew, don’t you know, when I plow this field and then allow it to be trampled, all of the dust from everyone’s shoes and the filth from their bodies will go directly back into the soil, making it unnecessary to add any additional fertilizer for the rest of the year.”
This year, the one-armed man once again plowed the slope. He originally assumed that, on account of the summer blizzard, there wouldn’t be a livening festival this year, but now it turned out that there would be one after all and that the county chief would host it himself. The one-armed man, therefore, was the first to arrive at the field, and the other villagers soon followed. They brought chairs, benches, and mats, and some of them notified their relatives in neighboring villages, urging them to come take part in the excitement. They also brought seats for their relatives, in order to reserve a spot for them. By the time the sun had risen three pole-lengths in the sky, when everyone would normally be working, the field was already full. There were bundles of beams bound together with wire resting on some piles of wood, on top of which there were some door planks covered with reed mats, which functioned as a makeshift stage. This stage had been erected by the one-legged Lame Carpenter, with the assistance of several young men. They brought saws, hammers, axes, and other tools, and in no time at all they completed their work.
The benches in front of the stage were arranged in neat rows.
Men and women from neighboring villages were invited to come sing Balou tunes.
In the past, the musical troupes would come to Liven several days prior to the festival to discuss their proposed compensation, but since this year the festival was being hosted by Chief Liu, the percussion and musical troupes didn’t know how to organize, or whom to approach. The news that the county chief would personally host the livening festival spread quickly through the villages, like the aroma of food at mealtimes. When the sun came up that morning, the entire mountain pass was filled with visitors from neighboring villages who had come to observe the excitement. By the time the sun reached the head of the village, a huge crowd had gathered in the field, and the slope along the dam was completely full of people. The fifty-three-year-old one-armed man walked around shouting, “You’re all trampling my field! . . . You’re all trampling my field! I just plowed this field, but if I had known you were going to trample it like this, I wouldn’t have bothered.” Even as he was complaining, he continued smiling broadly. When he saw relatives and acquaintances from other villages who didn’t have anywhere to stand, he said to them, “Why don’t you go sit over there in my field. I can always plow it over again later.”
As a result, there were more and more people sitting in his field.