Dreams of Joy (26 page)

WE’RE ON THE
bus taking us from Tun-hsi to the drop-off point for Green Dragon Village. Baskets of produce and pots of cooked food have been placed by the side of the road, sending the message that the Great Leap Forward has been so beneficial that people can give away food to anyone who passes.
Eat! We have plenty!
I see lots of small children—another of Chairman Mao’s gifts.
Have babies! Have more and more babies!

Z.G. and my mother share a bench across the aisle from me. My mother has pulled her body into something small and taut, as though that will protect her from the other passengers, the chickens and ducks, the smells, and the cigarette smoke. Every once in a while, she fingers the little leather pouch that hangs around her neck. It’s identical to the one that Aunt May gave me before I went to college and that I wore when I came to China. I hope my mother isn’t going to keep grasping the pouch and acting like the end is near. I won’t let her take away my happiness, because …

We’re going back to Green Dragon and I’m going to see Tao again!

Shanghai has not been at all like what my mother and aunt described, but there’s a vitality that can’t be resisted. I loved Z.G.’s house. I liked his three servants, although they sometimes looked at me strangely and argued among themselves about things I couldn’t figure out. But apart from that tiny unpleasantness—which Z.G. told me to accept because you can’t stop servants from gossiping—this was the good life, better than anything I’d experienced in Chinatown.

My father is very important. His position—plus a few packs of cigarettes
passed to the right person—got me to the front of the line at the doctor’s office when I had a sore throat in the spring, and it’s placed us at the best tables at banquets. I’ve listened to jazz bands play familiar tunes: “You Are My Sunshine,” “My Old Kentucky Home,” and “My Darling Clementine.” Yes, it doesn’t sound very communist or socialist. And yes, everything I’ve been doing since Z.G. and I left Green Dragon months ago is a betrayal of my ideals, but to help China I had to know more about it. The meals—whether cooked at home by Z.G.’s servants or at a banquet—have been delicious. Food in Shanghai is sweet. I remember my mom always liked sugar and she put it on the craziest things, like sliced tomatoes. Now I understand where she got that. Even the fanciest banquet comes with a platter of French fries sprinkled with fine white sugar. There have been so many things to taste, see, and learn. It’s been fun.

Except I could never escape the fact that Shanghai was once my mother and aunt’s home. I don’t want to be them, like them, or reminded of them, and yet I couldn’t avoid any of those things. Just look at the way Z.G. wanted me to wear the clothes from his attic. They were beautiful and all, but the whole thing was kind of creepy. And, of course, my mother was in Shanghai. Z.G. insisted that we see her once a week. I can’t believe how often I had to listen to Mom and Auntie May go on and on about how big and elegant their home was, but I didn’t think it was so great. It was big all right, but dirty and filled with too many people. And what about Cook and the way he kept calling my mom Little Miss? No one’s supposed to talk like that anymore, but he did.

My mother? She’s tried her best—I know she has—but I came to China to get away from her. I don’t want to be reminded of the past. I don’t want to think about my father Sam. When my mother looks at me with her sad eyes, when I hear the reproach in her voice, when I feel her tentative touch on my arm, when I glimpse her hiding in the shadows watching me, I want to get as far away from her as possible. Then a way out of Shanghai happened, but not as I’d hoped, because Z.G. insisted that we ask my mother to join us. But then, the more she balked, the more I wanted her to come. I want to prove her thinking is wrong. I want her to see the glory of the Great Leap Forward. If she can see how happy I am in Green Dragon, then maybe she’ll let me go—release me, like she did when I went away to college.

I stare out the window as the bus nears the drop-off for Green
Dragon. Up ahead, several people cluster together, cradling sheaves of rice or carrying welcome signs. From a distance, Kumei waves. Her little boy stands at her side. Ta-ming has grown a lot this past year. Party Secretary Feng Jin and Sung-ling strike straight and dignified poses. There are others as well, but I’m not sure who they are. The one I’m looking for—Tao—has placed himself in front of the group to make sure I see him.

The bus wobbles to a stop. Someone helps my mother down. She says thank you, smoothes her hair, and then clasps her hands and waits. People unload our bags. I grin like a fool. Tao looks just as handsome as when I left—strong, brown from the sun, with a radiant smile. I want to hug him, but of course I can’t.

An unfamiliar bald man steps forward. “I am Brigade Leader Lai,” he says. “I’ve been sent by the district to run the Dandelion Number Eight People’s Commune.”

He’s a one-pen cadre, which is only so-so for someone who looks to be about forty. On the other hand, he’s already bald, which is considered a sign of wisdom. All in all, the commune is lucky to have someone of his stature to make sure it meets the goals of the Great Leap Forward.

“Come,” he says. “We’ve prepared a tour and dinner for you.”

He leads the way and we follow. The heat is harsh and white hot. We have a few miles to walk. My mother pulls out an umbrella to shield herself from the sun, and the others look at her in amusement. Eventually, we come to the hill that serves as the natural barrier to Green Dragon. My mother sets her face, adjusts her suitcase in her hand, and determinedly trudges forward. At the crest of the hill, Green Dragon spreads out below us. A new sign has been mounted by the side of the path.

W
ELCOME TO
G
REEN
D
RAGON
V
ILLAGE

MEMBER OF THE DANDELION NUMBER EIGHT PEOPLE’S COMMUNE

Brigade Leader Lai babbles about all the changes that have happened in Green Dragon in the last year. “A generator supplies power to loudspeakers that are hung in the trees,” he says, “and in every house not only in this village but in all thirteen villages that make up the Dandelion Number Eight People’s Commune. Ours is a small commune—a little over four thousand members. I have a telephone in the leadership hall.”

“I’ve not only seen the telephone,” Kumei brags, “but also heard Brigade Leader Lai speak into it. He’s staying in the villa, and he let me see it one day.”

We pass blast furnaces, and I recognize several women who used to come to Z.G.’s art classes stoking the fires.

“Kumei, tell our guests about women in our village,” the brigade leader orders.

“We women have been emancipated from the narrow confines of our homes.” Her voice is filled with as much enthusiasm as ever. “With the Great Leap Forward, we no longer have the drudgery of being wives and mothers. We no longer hold parasitical positions in the home. We’ve been freed from our frustrating and self-centered lives.”

“Everything the people were promised when I was last here has come to pass—from the telephone to food for everyone to the true liberation of women,” I say.

The brigade leader gives me an appreciative smile, but leave it to my mother to see the hair in the glass of milk.

“Excuse me, but may I ask who takes care of the children?” she asks. “Who washes the clothes? Who makes the meals? Who cares for the old and the sick?”

My mother can be such a pain, but the brigade leader responds with jovial laughter.

“It must be hard for you, a woman of your age, to accept that things have changed,” he says. (This does not go over well with my mom.) “The people’s commune offers child care, a laundry, and a canteen—”

“Wonderful,” my mother says. “I’d like to see them. Are men running those enterprises?”

The brigade leader starts to bluster. “The canteen sets women free. They are untethered from the grindstone and the wok—”

“Things certainly are happier now,” Sung-ling says, stepping between my mother and the brigade leader. She takes my mother’s elbow and
leads her to the villa. We drop our bags in the front courtyard, just as I did my first night here. Then we leave again, walking along the path that abuts the villa’s wall. Huge posters depicting commune life, steel and iron production, fishing, and new roads in the countryside have been pasted to the wall. We cross the little bridge and continue, walking on the path that runs parallel to the stream. I wish Tao and I could detour to the Charity Pavilion, but he’s up ahead with Z.G. The two of them have their heads together, talking animatedly.

“At last we can do the same work and enjoy the same food as our fathers, husbands, sons, and brothers,” Sung-ling continues. “No more leftovers for us. We’re each paid according to our work. The more work we do, the more we’re paid. Now I can spend my money as I please. No man can tell me what to do. Every woman is the boss—and owner—of herself. This is a good thing, don’t you agree?”

“Yes,” my mother admits. “These are all good things.”

I smile. Finally, Mom has heard something she likes.

“The people’s commune is truly fine,” Sung-ling adds. “No single list can tabulate all its advantages.”

“The people’s commune is great!” Kumei practically shouts. When people look her way, she blushes, looks down, and then covers her scar with her hand.

“Kumei is right.” This comes from Tao. “Fortune smiles on us all!”

Even though it’s blisteringly hot, a shiver of excitement runs down my spine. I’m happy to be back here. These are my friends and this is my place.

After about ten minutes, we cross over another stone bridge. Rice paddies spread out to our right. We veer left past squash, corn, and sweet potato fields. Just ahead is a series of buildings, of which all but one are constructed with dried cornstalks lashed together as walls and roofs over bamboo frames.

Brigade Leader Lai thrusts out his arm dramatically. “The Dandelion Number Eight People’s Commune! That building houses our kindergarten. We have the Happiness Garden—a home for the aged—”

“Is it made of cornstalks too?” my mother asks.

Brigade Leader Lai ignores her. “We’ve built a maternity courtyard in another village, but here we have a clinic and a nursery for children too young for school. That building over there is the canteen. Yes, it’s made out of cornstalks. Nothing is wasted.”

“Where will I hold my classes?” Z.G. asks. “We have a lot of art to create for Chairman Mao.”

Party Secretary Feng Jin’s brow furrows. “I thought you’d still want to do that in Green Dragon’s ancestral hall.”

“No, this must be a communewide enterprise. Everyone must create art. That is the mandate.”

“What about producing steel?” the brigade leader asks. “We have a quota to fill—”

“More important, what about the harvest?” The Party secretary continues to wear a worried look.

“These are my orders,” Z.G. says, not without sympathy. “We all must do our best to fulfill Chairman Mao’s wishes.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do! You will lead us right here in this field.” Brigade Leader Lai makes a fist and raises it in the air. This causes Sung-ling, Tao, Kumei, and the others who’ve been following us to break into rhythmic shouts: “The people’s commune is great! Long live Chairman Mao!” I copy them, raising my clenched fist and shouting too. With everyone staring at them, Z.G. and my mom join in. I’m so glad we brought my mother, because she’s finally starting to
see
what I see and
feel
what I feel.

Brigade Leader Lai pulls Z.G., my mom, and me aside, and leads us to a cinder-block building. He calls it the leadership hall, although he doesn’t invite Feng Jin or Sung-ling to join us. I glance back to see Kumei, Tao, Feng Jin, and Sung-ling drop to their haunches in the shade of a ginkgo tree. Inside the leadership hall are three spacious rooms—a dining room, a kitchen, and a large storeroom—plus another five rooms that look like they could be bedrooms or barracks. A table has been set for four people. Peasant women hurry from the kitchen to lay out an elaborate lunch of eight dishes. The meal is perfect—the vegetables are fresh on the tongue, the chilies give a wonderful bite, the flesh falls delicately from the bones of the whole fish, and the cured pork with salted black beans is properly tasty—but I want to eat with Tao and my other friends. Even if this meal is only for very important persons, why haven’t Feng Jin and Sung-ling been invited?

After lunch, we go back into the bright sunlight. I blink, trying to clear the black spots from my eyes. Tao, Kumei, and the others jump up when they see us. On the way back to Green Dragon and the villa, Tao and I lag behind. When we reach the turnoff to the Charity Pavilion, Tao
dips onto it. I don’t hesitate for a moment. I run after him, scampering up the path as fast as I can. I reach the pavilion and throw myself into his arms. Our kisses are sweet yet frantic. So many months have passed. Instead of my feelings for Tao cooling, they have only grown. I can tell his have grown for me as well.

I WAKE AT
five the next morning to the sound of announcements being read over a background of military music blaring from a loudspeaker in the villa: “Bring your woks. Bring your griddles. Bring your locks.” I dress quickly and go out to the sitting room that’s shared by the four bedrooms in this part of the villa. My mom sits at the table. Her eyes are shut and she massages her temples.

“Are you all right?” I remember my first morning here a year ago, when I was sicker than the village dog.

She opens her eyes, which are dulled by pain. “I’m fine,” she says. “I’ll be fine. It’s just—”

She doesn’t have a chance to finish, because Z.G. comes out of his room, looking cross. “What’s that noise?”

We head to the kitchen and find Kumei, Ta-ming, and Yong searching through cupboards. Brigade Leader Lai is already gone. He must go to the leadership hall very early each morning. The table in the center of the room, which has always been used for food preparation, has no vegetables or jars of pickles. Instead, cooking utensils and other metal items are laid out in a straight line from the smallest to the largest.