The Boat to Redemption (14 page)

Wouldn’t you know it, on my way downstairs Gimpy Gu stopped me. ‘What are you up to? Why were you upstairs when everybody
else is downstairs? What were you doing up there?’

I ignored him and waved to the delegation. ‘It’s the day they do their voluntary work,’ I said. ‘Let’s go down to the construction
site.’

Stung by Gimpy Gu’s criticism, the boat people turned and left the General Affairs Building, grumbling about their treatment.
Desheng’s wife handed Huixian to her husband and told him to hold her up in the air so the people at the piers could see her.
‘That way they’ll know we’re coming to turn her in, not to make trouble.’

‘She’s high enough already,’ said Desheng, who had the girl on his shoulders. ‘They can’t see her, anyway, since they’re all
working. They’re not paying us any attention.’

‘Isn’t it strange,’ Desheng’s wife complained, ‘how many officials are out there worrying about land and cement, and how many
more are concerned with all those tools, but there’s no one to give a damn about this little girl?’

I knew that the best way to find someone in authority in that crowd of workers was to look for a red flag. I saw one that
said ‘
PUBLIC SERVANT SHOCK TROOPS
’, and that is where I headed, along with Sun Ximing and the others, only to find that Xiaogai
had got there ahead of us. He was resting on his haunches under the flag, register in hand, and reading from it to someone
down in the trench. Reporting on us. We looked down to see who it was. As I guessed, it was Zhao Chuntang. He was wearing
a hard hat and knee-high rubber boots and had a whistle around his neck as he supervised the work group digging the trench.

One of the women in our group leaned over and shouted, ‘Secretary Zhao, this girl turned up at our fleet, so we’re bringing
her to you!’

Xiaogai jumped up and pointed angrily at her. ‘You’ve got a nerve coming here to cause trouble! Who kicked Baldy in the balls?
They’re all swollen, and if he suffers a permanent injury, you’ll pay. I’ve told Secretary Zhao how you came ashore to cause
trouble on the pretext of bringing over a child. There’s a new trend in class struggle, you know!’

Everyone began talking at once, insisting they hadn’t attacked Baldy Chen. Six-Fingers stepped up to the edge of the trench.
‘Don’t listen to him. Look at my face. See how puffy it is? Who did that? Scabby Five did it. Bringing the child ashore is
part of the new trend in class struggle, but can you say the same about a security group that uses its truncheons on the heads
of the revolutionary masses?’

Everyone on the ground and in the trench turned to look at Zhao and see his reaction. I watched as he waved three times. The
first wave was a more or less polite sign to the people to move on. But the delegation stood its ground. There was an angry
edge to the second wave, implying that they were ill informed and were interfering with the work under way. Still they stayed
put.

‘Don’t listen to Wang Xiaogai’s false accusations,’ Desheng’s wife said. ‘We’re not worthy of any new trend, and we’re not
here to make trouble. We brought this little girl ashore, a living, breathing child we can’t abandon and we can’t keep. How
can we go home before the authorities have taken responsibility for her?’

At that Zhao Chuntang stuck his shovel in the mud and had a hushed discussion with an official named Four-Eyes Zhang. Then
he turned back and waved for the third time, a gesture we found a bit strange. ‘Come down here, Sun Ximing,’ Four-Eyes explained.
‘We want to talk to you.’

Sun was about to take the little girl down into the trench, but one of the women snatched her out of his hands. ‘You go on
down if you want to,’ she said, ‘but she stays here.’

‘Quieten down, you women,’ Four-Eyes said, ‘and keep out of this. Bring the girl down and let Secretary Zhao see her before
he decides what to do.’

So Sun Ximing took Huixian by the hand to go down into the trench, but she baulked at the sight of it. ‘It’s muddy down there,’
she said. ‘My clothes will get dirty.’

‘Those people are all officials,’ Sun said to reassure her. ‘They’re rich and powerful, so you don’t have to worry if you
get dirty. They’ll buy you some new clothes.’

So she went down and, with a pout, sized up the people around her. Suddenly her eyes lit up and she ran to Leng Qiuyun, Director
of the local Women’s Federation. ‘Mama!’ she shouted. ‘Mama!’ Everyone froze and stared at the happy little girl. Director
Leng, momentarily stunned, threw down her tool and stepped aside just as Huixian stopped, realizing her mistake, and, with
disappointment in her eyes, looked up at us. Then she turned back to Director Leng. ‘Where’s my mother?’ she said. ‘You people
tricked me!’ She stamped her foot in anger. ‘She isn’t here, and she isn’t there. I want you to tell me where my mama is!’

The officials all laid down their tools and gaped curiously at Huixian, especially Director Leng, who had regained her composure
and took Huixian by the hand. She clicked her tongue. ‘My,’ she exclaimed, ‘what a pretty little girl, and so clever. I’d
love it if you were my little girl.’

Zhao Chuntang rested his foot on the blade of his shovel,
pushing it in deeper and deeper. He looked at Huixian closely, like a post-office clerk examining a misaddressed package.
Finally he laughed softly, reached out and grabbed her pigtail. ‘Where’d you come from, little girl?’

Huixian stared at the three pens in the pocket of his tunic and counted out loud, ‘One, two, three,’ bringing smiles to the
adults’ faces.

‘She’s a lovable little thing,’ someone said. ‘See, even Secretary Zhao likes her.’

Sun Ximing pushed Huixian’s finger down. ‘Stop counting and say something,’ he urged her. ‘Call him Secretary Zhao.’

Huixian hesitated for a moment. ‘Uncle Zhao,’ she said.

People rushed to correct her: ‘Not Uncle Zhao, Secretary Zhao.’ But Zhao waved them off. ‘She’s just a child,’ he said. ‘Why
not Uncle Zhao? Like any good girl, she hasn’t learned the art of flattery.’ That quietened the people, who waited to see
what Secretary Zhao would do next. Not much, it seemed, since he casually tossed a shovelful of dirt out of the trench. Seeing
their leader go back to work, the other officials did the same, leaving no room for Sun Ximing and Huixian to stand.

Pulling the girl to one side, Sun said, ‘What are you going to do, Secretary Zhao? Where should we take her?’

With a display of indifference, Zhao cast a glance at Sun and said, ‘She’s a clever little thing. And so cute. Where were
you planning to take her? I think whoever wants a little girl aboard should have her.’

That was worse than doing nothing at all. Sun cast a pleading look at the people up on the ground. ‘You can’t just kick the
ball to somebody else, Secretary Zhao,’ Six-Fingers said. ‘Raising a child isn’t like keeping a dog or a cat. She needs to
be fed and she needs registering with a household.’

But it was Desheng’s wife who came up with the cleverest response. ‘We can take her on board and make things easy for the
leadership, but not the way you say. If we do it your way, she’ll be a blacklisted element, which isn’t fair. People will
assume we took her from someone, and that isn’t fair either. What we need is for you to come up with a fair arrangement and
give it to us in writing.’

Zhao Chuntang threw down his shovel with a sneer, his face darkening. He walked up to Sun Ximing, obviously wanting nothing
more to do with us, and Sun was his chosen target. ‘Sun Ximing, do you know why you’ve never been accepted into the Party?
It’s because you’ve got a pig brain. What kind of leadership have you given to your fleet, a bunch of undisciplined backsliders
who have no political consciousness or cultivation? You want me to arrange things and put them in writing when I’m so busy
I can’t even catch my breath? You want me to make arrangements for the child, but my superiors want me to advance East Wind
No. 8. I ask you, which is more important? You tell me. Put it in writing, you say. What leadership role do you play? County
Party Committee, local Party Committee? Or maybe the Central Committee in Beijing!’

What could Sun say? The delegation was no help at all. One of the officials came up to Zhao Chuntang to defuse the situation,
while another railed at the people above them. ‘What kind of political consciousness is this? What qualities are you displaying?
Don’t you have any idea what times these are? A mass campaign will begin any day now, and you’re only making things worse
with the issue of this child.’

‘We’re not here to cause trouble,’ Desheng’s wife said timidly. ‘She’s just a little girl. With all you officials down there,
you’d think that one of you could come up and make things right for her. Isn’t a little girl as important as a shovel?’

Zhao gave Desheng’s wife a withering look. ‘You’re quite a talker,’ he said, ‘but you listen to me. During these critical
times, everything must take a back seat to East Wind No. 8, and that
includes this little girl. One shovelful of dirt is more important than any single child!’

Zhao had made his decision, and all we could do was exchange troubled looks. Answering back was out of the question, and no
one knew what to do. We could only stand there and watch Sun unwillingly lift the girl out of the trench. Back above ground,
he turned and cast a hard look down at the officials, who were engaged in whispered conversations. Four-Eyes Zhang muttered
something to Zhao Chuntang before saying, with a wave of his hand, ‘Go on, get out of here!’ That got Sun Ximing’s dander
up; he was in no mood to leave. He’d rather wait.

Finally Zhao spoke again. ‘Sun Ximing, go and see Director Yao at the grain distribution station and get five
jin
of rice. Then you and the others can take the child back to your barges. We can hang her out there for the time being, and
work out something more permanent when we’re not so busy.’

Sun froze, his face turning red. ‘Five
jin
of rice? What do you take us for, Secretary Zhao, beggars?’ His bull-headed nature took over, sparked by disappointment and
fierce opposition. ‘Hang her out?’ he shouted down into the trench. ‘What does that mean? A little girl can’t be that much
trouble. If the authorities won’t take care of her, we will! And you can feed your chickens with those five
jin
of rice! We don’t need your
generosity
! The eleven barges of the Sunnyside Fleet can manage to look after one little girl!’

I
F THIS
were a literary narrative, I’d have to admit that the opening bears some resemblance to a farce, albeit one that can only
sadden the reader. The Sunnyside Fleet had sent a delegation ashore, who were forced to take the long way round, with all
its twists and turns, just so that they could talk till they were blue in the face; in the end, curses and flying fists accomplished
nothing, and my pen proved useless. Even by pulling together, we had no luck in finding a taker for the little girl. Desheng
hoisted her up on his shoulders again and returned wearily to the boats.

At the time, I recall, Six-Fingers Wang’s daughters were rinsing out sweaters on the riverbank, and when they spotted Huixian
riding high upon Desheng’s shoulders, they left their work and rushed up to greet us. ‘Dad,’ they said to Six-Fingers, ‘we
thought you were going to leave her there. Why are you bringing her back?’

Six-Fingers covered his face with his hands so his daughters could not see his pained look. Then he growled a response: ‘Leave
her where? Nowhere! No one was willing to take her, so she’s been “hung out” here with the fleet!’

Having grown up in and around the General Affairs Building, I’d heard Father use the term ‘hung out’ and knew that it implied
danger. It was often used as a way to deal with a problem, usually
associated with leading officials. So-and-so has been ‘hung out’, they’d say, meaning that that individual’s future looked
bleak. But hanging out a little girl made no sense. I couldn’t tell if it was a prudent use of the word or a means of avoiding
responsibility.

Huixian’s status improved upon her return, and the boat people’s attitude towards her underwent a modest change. Now that
she’d been hung out with the Sunnyside Fleet, we assumed a new responsibility, though there was no talk of whose responsibility
it would be.

Huixian also changed. Taken ashore twice, only to be returned each time, she must have known she’d been rejected by the people
there, that she wasn’t welcome, and that her fate rested with the fleet. She proved to be quick and very smart, realizing
that the barge people expected her to do as they asked, so she smoothed out the rough edges of her attitude overnight, abandoning
her wilful behaviour. On the afternoon she returned from town I saw that she had wound a silk thread around her fingers as
she stood on the bow of barge number one, looking for someone to play a game with. Spotting Yingtao, she crossed to her barge
and said, ‘Big Sister, would you like me to teach you how to do cat’s cradle?’

The unexpected invitation bowled Yingtao over, and after a couple of bashful sways of her hips, she thrust her arms out and
the two girls began playing cat’s cradle. Yingtao’s brother, Dayong, made his way up to them and watched with a foolish grin
as the thread changed patterns in their hands, their fingers twisting around it. ‘Go away!’ Yingtao yelled. ‘This is a girls’
game. What are you gawking at?’ When he refused to leave, she complained to her mother, who dragged him away, then walked
back thoughtfully to get a good look at Huixian’s face. In a not altogether playful tone, she spoke out about her son’s marital
prospects. ‘You know our son Dayong likes you,’ she said, ‘so why
don’t you stay on our barge? That way you can marry him one day. See how big and strong he is? Full of energy.’

Huixian looked first at Yingtao’s mother, then at Dayong, and shook her head. ‘Lots of people like me,’ she said. ‘How can
I marry them all? No. I say no.’

‘I don’t mean you have to marry everybody. One girl and one boy. You marry the one who likes you better than most.’ Yingtao’s
mother smothered a giggle. ‘Ours is a fine boat, with better conditions than most, and one day it, and everything on it, could
be yours.’

With a quick glance at the cabin hatch, Huixian said, ‘You don’t have a sofa, so how can you call it fine? I’m not going to
be his or anybody’s wife. I belong on the shore. I won’t be here more than a few days.’

‘There’s only a piece of wood separating the boat from the shore, so what’s the difference? You don’t think you’re better
than boat people, do you? Ours is a hard life, and simple, and, like life on shore, is part of the socialist system. The rich
bourgeoisie and old bosses were wiped out long ago. No one likes a snob. Who knows when or if you’ll be back on shore. Didn’t
you hear the man say you’re being hung out here? Maybe that’ll last until the year of the monkey or the month of the horse.
¹
It’s up to you to choose the best boat to be hung out on.’

With a little grimace, Huixian said, ‘I’m not a shirt, you know. How am I supposed to be hung out? I won’t hang out on any
boat. They put me down in their book as lost, so they’ll have to broadcast my name and put up posters. If I can’t find my
mama, she’ll have to find me.’

‘They could broadcast a hundred times,’ said Dayong, who’d reappeared at some point, ‘and it wouldn’t make any difference.
Your mother’s a drowned ghost, and if one of those finds you,
you’re in big trouble.’ He added fearsomely, ‘If your mother finds you, then you’ll be a drowned ghost too, with moss growing
all over your body.’

All ten of Huixian’s fingers, which had been swirling in the air, stopped moving. She knew exactly what Dayong was talking
about. Her eyes wide with fear, she stared at him. Dayong’s mother knew that this time he’d gone too far. ‘Don’t say things
like that, Dayong,’ she said, pushing him towards the cabin.

But not in time. Twirling the ball of silk thread over her head, Huixian stormed after the boy. ‘Who are you calling a drowned
ghost?
You’re
a drowned ghost! With moss growing all over
your
body!’ She flayed him with her silk thread as she raged on. Each scream was shriller and angrier than the one before. She
was nearly hysterical. The strange thing was, she’d learned how to swear like a boat person, her curses aimed at the whole
family: ‘I’ll thump, I’ll thump you, I’ll thump your mother, I’ll thump everybody in your family!’

Hearing the commotion, Sun Ximing’s wife ran up breathlessly and went to Huixian’s aid. ‘I tell you, that son of yours may
not know right from wrong,’ she said, pointing at Dayong’s mother, ‘but what about you? The heavens will deal with anyone
who torments this child.’

‘What kind of talk is that?’ Yingtao’s mother rejoined. ‘You have no idea what’s going on here! My son didn’t torment her,
she hit him, and he didn’t hit back. She’s no dummy. Were you listening when she called everyone in our family a drowned ghost?
Or when she cursed us with filthy language? The little tramp said she’s going to thump us all!’

Sun’s wife rolled her eyes at Yingtao’s mother and her children. ‘Forget it!’ she said angrily with a wave of her hands. ‘Just
let it go. Talking to you people is a waste of time.’ Taking Huixian by the hand, she returned to barge number one. ‘I told
you not to go on to any of these barges just because of how they look,’ she said.
‘There are good barges, and there are those that just look good. Stay away from the bad ones.’

Yingtao’s mother, enraged by these comments, ran after Sun’s wife. ‘You filthy-mouthed woman,’ she bellowed. ‘What do you
mean by good and bad barges? How dare you put stupid thoughts like that in the head of a little girl! Does she belong to you,
just because she spent one night on your barge? That’s where she learned all those bad things. Why don’t you take a good look
at yourself? Your body odour could suffocate a person and you can barely spell three words. What makes you think you’d be
a good mama to her?’

Sun Ximing’s wife turned back to look at her. ‘I may not be able to spell three words, but how many can you spell? And maybe
I’m not qualified to be her mama, but you couldn’t even be her amah. Don’t think I don’t know how you and your old man were
assigned to this fleet. If the authorities hadn’t decided to be lenient, you two—’ Her harangue was cut short by a flying
broom that struck her on the leg. ‘Ouch!’ She spun around to see who had thrown it. It was Yingtao, who stood with her hands
on her hips, glaring at Sun’s wife and at Huixian. This time, Sun’s wife knew, she’d gone too far. After kicking the broom
into the river, she took Huixian’s hand and said, ‘Let’s go home.’

After she had thrown the broom, Yingtao ran to her mother, whose hands were pressed to her chest, her face a ghostly white;
she finally managed to exhale. Aiming a mouthful of spit at the spot where the other woman had stood, she railed, ‘Even your
underarms don’t stink as much as your mouth. Damn you! You’ve got a nerve, talking about my family like that. Everybody knows
the scandalous history of your husband and your little sister, who got an abortion after she began to show. So who do you
think you are – a big shot just because your husband muddled his way into the job of fleet commander? I tell you, there’s
plenty of dirt to go around on the eleven barges of this fleet, but you’ll never find
ours at the bottom of the heap. If I hear any more rubbish from you, I’ll tear your lips off!’

I wasn’t shocked by what I was hearing, but it was unexpected. Such matters had always gone unspoken aboard the boats. I’d
heard that all the fleet families had stained records, but no one talked about them, even during violent arguments. It was
a matter of principle. But with the arrival of Huixian, strange things had begun to happen, and a climate of anxiety now dominated
our peaceful lives. Insults flew. I hated squabbles among the boat women. But that day was different, because they were arguing
over Huixian. No one had any inkling about my feelings towards her, a protective urge that surprised even me, and that grew
stronger every day. I’d experienced a secret torment when we’d taken her ashore, but now, miraculously, she was going to stay
with us. And yet that miracle filled me with apprehension. The argument between the two women had resolved nothing. Given
the blotted history of all eleven families, which barge should she make her home? Who was good enough to be her mama? I mulled
the question over, but couldn’t come up with an answer. The world of barges was just too small. Yingtao’s mother was certainly
not worthy of being her new mother. Sun Ximing’s wife treated her well and was, at heart, a good woman. But she was illiterate
and had terrible body odour that would create a bad environment for Huixian’s daily life. I thought about my own mother, and
how she’d often sighed over how good her life would have been if I’d been a daughter instead of a son. She was educated, cleanliness
was important to her, and she cared about how she looked; she’d have been a good mother for Huixian. Unfortunately, she’d
never get the chance. So who was the best candidate? If I had to select a general among all the pygmies, I guess it would
have to be Desheng’s wife, though there was talk that she’d abandoned the man she’d just married to run off with Desheng and
join him on the barge. But she was the only woman in the fleet who brushed
her teeth every day. She was clean, she was smart, and she had a way with words. Some people said that she and her husband
lacked the necessary experience, since they had no children of their own, but to my way of thinking that was a virtue. They
were the only ones who would treat Huixian as their own daughter.

Desheng and his wife, who were standing on the bow of their ship, had heard the argument. Desheng’s wife was partial to Sun’s
wife, while he found them both equally disagreeable. ‘Raising hell like that is stupid,’ he said. ‘Those shrews won’t say
what they ought to be saying, and let fly with things that should never be said. Neither of them is worthy of being the girl’s
mother. If she stayed with them, she’d grow up to be a shrew just like them.’

‘What the hell,’ I said to Desheng. ‘Why don’t you take her?’

He and his wife exchanged a hurried glance. ‘We like the little girl, we really do,’ she said. ‘But she was turned over to
the fleet, so we should all meet to discuss how best to take care of her.’

‘That’s not your decision,’ Desheng said, cutting his wife off. ‘The principle here is democratic centralism, with democracy
coming first. We’re going to have to draw lots.’

That evening, Sun Ximing’s second son, Erfu, ran from boat to boat, notifying people that they would all be drawing lots.
‘Each boat must send a representative to barge number one!’ he cried at the top of his lungs. ‘Everybody must participate.’

When Father heard Erfu’s shouts he asked, ‘What are we drawing lots for?’

‘For the girl,’ I told him. ‘For Huixian.’

‘Ridiculous!’ he exclaimed. ‘They can’t do that!’

‘Will we send a representative?’

He paused. ‘I guess so, since it’s a collective matter. We can’t shirk our duty. But they have to know where we stand. If
our lot is drawn, they’ll have to draw again. You go.’

It didn’t take long for the representatives to gather on Sun’s
boat. Many of them could not sit still, they were so nervous. The reasons varied. Desheng was afraid he wouldn’t be lucky
enough to draw the winning lot. For Six-Fingers Wang it was the opposite. He tried to steel himself against the possibility
that he’d actually be too lucky. ‘We already have too many children for our ration of food,’ he said. ‘If the girl came to
us, she’d have to eat from a communal supply.’

Sun Ximing’s wife rebuffed this selfish remark. ‘You needn’t worry that she’d put you in the poor house. Taking care of the
girl is a joint responsibility, no matter who she winds up with.’

After cutting a hole in a shoebox lid, Sun wrapped the box in a red cloth. Then he placed it on the bow and stuck in his hand
to draw the first lot. After fishing around for a few seconds he pulled out a white slip. With disappointment in his eyes,
he turned to his wife. ‘I told you to do it, but you said no. Women are luckier than men. You should have drawn it.’

Everyone from barge number one to number six drew out a white slip. Now it was my turn. ‘Is number seven supposed to participate?’
someone asked. ‘What happens if Dongliang draws the winning lot? We can’t turn the girl over to him and his dad. They don’t
know how to bring up a child.’