Mulberry and Peach (6 page)

 

Third Day Aground.

‘There's thunder but no rain. The Dragon King has locked the Dragon Gate,' says the captain. ‘From now on each person gets only one glass of fresh water a day. We only have two small pieces of alum left to purify the water.'

 

Fourth Day Aground.

Rain. Rain. Rain. We talk about rain, dream about rain, pray for rain. When it rains, the water will rise and the boat will float out from the gash between the teeth.

‘I'm so thirsty.'

When people say they're thirsty it makes me even thirstier. Here at the bottom of the gorge, the sun blazes overhead for a few minutes, yet we're still so thirsty. No wonder the legendary hunter tried to end the drought by shooting down nine of the ten suns.

The old man proposes to divine by the ancient method of sandwriting.

Refugee Student says he doesn't believe in that kind of nonsense.

Peach-flower Woman says divining is a lot of fun: a T-shaped frame is placed in a box of sand. Two people hold the ends of the frame. If you think about the spirit of some dead person, that spirit will come. The frame will write words all by itself in the sand, tell people's fortunes, write prescriptions, resolve grudges, reward favours, even write poems. When the spirit leaves, the frame stops moving.

Lao-shih and I are very excited about the sandwriting and fight over who gets to hold the frame and write for the ghost. The old man says he must be the one to hold the frame because only sincere people can summon spirits.

Instead of sand, we use ashes from the cooking fire and put them in a basin. Then we tie the two fire sticks together and make a T shape. The old man and I hold the ends of the stick. He closes his eyes and works his mouth up and down. The stick moves faster and faster. My hands move with the stick. These are the words written in the ashes:

 

DEEDS RENOWNED IN THREE-KINGDOMS
FAME ACHIEVED FOR EIGHTFOLD ARRAY

 

‘That's his poem!' The old man slaps his thigh and shouts. ‘It's the poet Tu Fu. I was silently reciting Tu Fu and he came. Tu Fu spent three years in this area and wrote three hundred and sixty-one poems here. Every plant and tree in this region became part of his poetry. I knew Tu Fu would come if I called him.' Then he addressed the ashes: ‘Mr Tu, you were devoted to your emperor and cared about the fate of the country. You were talented, but had no opportunity to serve your country. You rushed here and there in your travels. Our fate is not unlike your own. Today all of us here on the boat wish to consult you. Is it auspicious or inauspicious that we are stranded on these rocks?'

 

MORE INAUSPICIOUS THAN AUSPICIOUS

 

‘Will we get out?'

 

CANNOT TELL

 

‘Are we going to die?'

 

CANNOT TELL

 

‘Whether we live or die, how much longer are we going to be stranded here?'

 

TENTH MONTH TENTH DAY

 

‘Horrible, we'll be stranded here until the Double Tenth Festival. When will it rain?'

 

NO RAIN

 

The stick stops moving in the basin.

‘Tu Fu has gone. Tu Fu was a poet. What does he know? This time let's summon a military man. We're stranded here in this historically famous strategic pass. We should only believe the words of a military man.' The old man shuts his eyes again and works his mouth up and down. We hold the stick and draw in the ashes.

DEVOTED SLAVE TO THE COUNTRY
ONLY DEATH STOPS MY DEVOTION

 

‘Good. Chu-ko Liang has come. I knew his heroic spirit would be here in the Chü-t'ang region. Not too far from here, Chu-ko Liang demonstrated his military strategy, the Design of the Eightfold Array.' The old man concentrates on the ashes. ‘Mr. Chu-ko, you were a hero. Your one desire was to recover the central part of China for the ruler of the Han people. Today China is also a country of three kingdoms: The National government in Chungking, the Communist government in Yenan, and the Japanese puppet government in Nanking. All of us here on the boat are going to Chungking; we are going there because we are concerned about the country. Now, instead, here we all are stranded in this rapids in a place not far from the Eightfold Array. Is it inauspicious or auspicious?'

 

VERY AUSPICIOUS

 

‘Good, we won't die stranded here?'

 

NO

 

‘Good! Can we reach Chungking?'

 

YES

 

‘How long are we going to be stranded here?'

 

ONE DAY

 

‘How will we get out of this place alive?'

 

HEAVEN HELPS THE LUCKY PERSON

 

‘When will it rain?'

 

ONE DAY

 

‘Mr. Chu-ko, when we get to Chungking, we will all go on foot to your temple and offer incense to you.'

The sticks stop moving.

The old man stares at the ashes. After a long time, he returns from his reverie. ‘We're stranded in the midst of history! The City of the White Emperor, the Labyrinth of Stone called the Eightfold Array, Thundering Drum Terrace, Meng-liang Ladder, Iron Lock Pass. All around us are landmarks left by the great heroes and geniuses of China. Do you know what Iron Lock Pass was? Iron Lock Pass had seven chains more than two thousand feet long crossing the river. Emperors and bandits in the past used those iron chains to close off the river and lock in the Szechuan Province. The Yangtze River has been flowing for thousands of years, and these things are still here. This country of ours is too old, too old.'

‘Sir, this is not the time to become intoxicated by our thousands of years of history!' says Refugee Student. ‘We want to get out of here alive.'

‘I'm sure it will rain tomorrow. When it rains, the waters will rise.'

‘Do you really believe in sandwriting?' I ask. ‘Was it you writing with the sticks or was it really Tu Fu and Chu-ko?'

‘You young people these days!' He strokes his beard. ‘Here I am, an old man, would I try to deceive you?' He pauses. ‘I really believe that heaven cares about us and answers prayers. Let me tell you a story from the
Chronicle of Devoted Sons.
There was a man called Yü Tzu-yü who was accompanying his father's coffin through the Chü-t'ang Gorge. In June the waters rose and the boat which was supposed to carry the coffin couldn't sail. Yü Tzu-yü burned incense and prayed to the Dragon King to make the waters recede. And the waters receded. After Yü Tzu-yü escorted the coffin through Chü-t'ang Gorge, the waters rose again.'

‘Who's the devoted son aboard this boat?' asks Peach-flower Woman with a laugh.

No one answers.

 

‘How long have we been stranded here?'

‘Has it been five days?'

‘No, seven.'

‘Six days.'

‘Well, anyway, it's been a long, long time.'

‘The moon has risen.'

‘Ummm.'

‘What time is it?'

‘If the moon is overhead, it must be midnight. Do you have a watch?'

‘Yes. It's stopped. I forgot to wind it. Who else has a watch?'

‘I do, but I can't see what time it is. It's too dark.'

‘It's so quiet. Only the sound of water on the rocks.'

‘Is everyone asleep?'

‘No.'

‘No.'

‘Then why don't you say something?'

‘I'm so hungry and thirsty.'

‘There went a big wave.'

‘How can you tell? You can't see them from here.'

‘I can hear them. It's very quiet, then suddenly there's a loud splash and then everything's quiet again.'

‘Can you hear anything else?'

‘No.'

‘Are they still fighting?'

‘Who?'

‘Those people on the bank.'

‘Oh, they won't come down here to fight. Mountains on both sides, water below, sky above.'

‘Hey, everyone, say something. OK? If nobody speaks, it's like you're all dead.'

‘What shall we say?'

‘Anything.'

‘When it's quiet like this and nobody is speaking, it's really scary. But when you talk it's also scary, like a ghost talking.'

‘Well, I'll play my flute, then.'

‘Good idea. I'll tell a story while you play the flute.'

‘I'm going to play “The Woman and the Great Wall”.'

‘It was a moonlit night. Quiet like this. He woke up smelling gunpowder . . .'

‘Who is “he”.'

‘The “he” in the story. He woke up smelling gunpowder. There were ashes everywhere. Even the moon was the colour of ash. When he woke up, he was lying under a large tree on a mountainside. The slope faced the Chialing River. Thick black columns of smoke arose from Chungking on the opposite bank. Reflected in the waters of the river, the black pillars of smoke looked like they were propping up the sky. Between the columns of smoke everything was grey as lead, as if all the ashes in Chungking had been stirred up.

‘He stood up, shaking ashes and dust off his clothes. He had just woken up. He had been hiding in the air raid shelter dug into the mountain for seven days and nights. The Japanese bombers had come
squadron after squadron, bombing Chungking for more than one hundred fifty hours. More than two hundred people had hid in the shelter. Eating, drinking, defecating, urinating, all inside the shelter. He couldn't stand it anymore and had gone outside. Another squadron of bombers appeared, and he didn't have time to run back to the shelter. He heard an ear-splitting crash and sand scattered in all directions. When he awoke, he saw someone digging at the entrance of the shelter. A bomb had destroyed the shelter. He took to his heels, afraid he might be dragged back by the dead inside the shelter. He ran and ran. He didn't know where he was running to. Only by running could he be safe. Suddenly he heard a voice calling out, “Let me go, let me go!” '

‘Hey, keep on playing the flute, don't stop.'

‘You want me to keep on playing the same song over and over?'

‘Yeah. Go on with the story.'

‘All right. The voice kept repeating. “Let me go. Let me go.” He stopped, looked all around. There was no one in sight, only some graves. There weren't even any tombstones. He walked to the right. The voice came from the left. He walked to the left. Then the voice came from the right. He walked straight ahead. The voice was behind him. He turned and walked back. The voice was silent. He couldn't keep walking in the opposite direction. That direction would take him back to the shelter that was full of dead bodies. He had to keep going forwards. He heard the voice again. “Let me go, let me go.” The voice seemed to come from under his feet. He stopped. It was coming from the right. He walked to the right and the voice got louder. He saw an empty grave. The coffin had probably been removed recently. A woman was lying in the grave, her head sticking out of the grave, her eyes closed, repeatedly mumbling, “Let me go.” He dragged her out of the pit. Then he recognised that she had been among the people hiding in the shelter. He couldn't tell if she was the ghost of someone killed in an explosion, or a living person who had escaped the bombing. He had a canteen with him. He poured some water down her throat. She regained consciousness. He asked her how she got out of the shelter and into the grave. She stared at him, as if she hadn't heard. She said, “Tzu-jao, can't you run faster than that?” He told her his name was Po-fu. The woman said, “Don't try to fool me. Has the soldier gone?” He said, “The bombers have gone.” She became impatient and repeated over and over, “I mean the Japanese soldier who tried to rape me. Has he gone?” The man said, “There are no Japanese soldiers in Chungking.” '

‘The flute sounds especially nice tonight. That poor lonely woman looking for her husband and crying at the Great Wall. What about the woman?'

‘Which woman? The woman at the Great Wall or the woman in the grave?'

‘The one in the grave. Hurry up and tell us the rest of the story. It's like a modern-day Gothic.'

‘OK. The woman sat down, beating the ground with her fist over and over. “This isn't Chungking. This is Nanking. We've just gotten married. The Japanese have just invaded the city.” The man groped for his watch in his pocket, struck a match, and showed her the name Po-fu engraved on the watch. The woman said, “Don't try to fool me, Tzu-jao! This is a matter of life and death. Run quick. The Japanese are combing Nanking for Chinese soldiers. They think that anyone with calluses on his hands is a soldier: rickshaw pullers, carpenters, coolies. Yesterday in one day they took away one thousand three hundred people. The dogs in Nanking are getting fat, there are so many corpses to feed on.” The woman looked around and asked, “Has the soldier gone?” He could only reply, “Yes, he's gone.” The woman pointed to the river. “It was on that road through the bamboo thicket. I was walking in front. He was walking behind me. You know, Tzu-jao, we have been married more than a week and you still haven't been able to touch me. You called me a stone girl.” '

‘What do you mean, “stone girl”?'

‘Stone girl. It means a girl who can't have sex.'

‘Go on, you're just getting to the best part.'

‘The woman kept on talking like that. She said, “It happened on that road through the bamboo thicket. I was walking in front. He was walking behind me. In full daylight, he stripped off his clothes as he followed me, throwing his uniform, boots, pants, underwear down at the side of the road. He stripped naked, leaving only his bayonet hanging by his side. When he was wearing his uniform, he seemed so much taller. Naked he looked shorter, even shorter than I am. He ripped off my clothes. He tossed me about like a doll. He threw down his bayonet. Just then, Tzu-jao, you came running up. Don't you remember? You ran out of Nanking, but you came back into the city. That Japanese was a head shorter than you. When he saw you, he jumped on your back, two hands gripping your neck. He was biting the back of your neck with his teeth. You reached back and grabbed his penis. You couldn't hold onto it. It was too small. As last you got it. You pulled it back and forth with all your strength. He screamed.
Some people from the International Relief Committee came running up. The head of the committee was a German. He ordered the Japanese soldier to leave. But the soldier kept biting your neck. You wouldn't let go of his penis. Finally the German put out his arm and the Japanese saw his Nazi insignia. He slipped off your back and ran. He didn't even pick up his clothes or his bayonet.”'