God Is Red - Liao Yiwu [48]
My brother told me what happened. Two soldiers guarded the entrance to the courtyard while two others, carrying loaded rifles with fixed bayonets, kicked the courtyard door open, fired two shots, and charged inside. They warned that anyone resisting would be shot on the spot. Inside the house, they found my father in bed and yelled, “Get up! Come with us.”
My father was very calm. Without saying a word, he put on his clothes, but before his feet touched the floor, the two soldiers rushed forward and grabbed and twisted his arms. He looked in their eyes and said, “No need to do that. I will go with you.” He then raised both of his hands, asking the soldiers to put the handcuffs on him. My mother screamed and wouldn’t let my father go. The soldier kicked her. She fell and passed out.
By the time I arrived, my father was gone. My mother had been taken back inside the house, and my brother’s family stood around her. She had become incontinent, her pants soaked with urine. When she regained consciousness a few moments later, she kept asking for water, saying: “I’m thirsty, I’m thirsty.” She drank several bowls and said her chest hurt. The pain stayed with her the rest of her life.
My father was held for four years in Wuding County. In December 1973 they executed him.
He was never officially accused, but they listed five charges against him: first, he was a lackey of the foreign imperialists and an incorrigible spy, using spiritual opium to poison people’s minds; second, he was a counterrevolutionary; third, he consistently boycotted the government’s religious policy; fourth, he was a member of a local landlord gang; fifth, he led a large group of evil landlords and their followers to ambush the Communist Red Army when they passed through Lufeng County in the 1930s, killing seven Communist soldiers. Local Miao did exchange fire with Mao’s army in Lufeng County. Both sides suffered casualties. The battleground was far from here. My father had nothing to do with it.
Liao: Were you able to visit your father before he was killed?
Wang: We could visit the detention center but were not allowed to see him. We could drop off clothes, but not food. They wouldn’t give us any information about his physical condition. We were constantly taunted by the revolutionary soldiers and villagers: “Your old man was a bad guy. He believed in God. Why don’t you draw a clear line with him?” “God is not the savior. Chairman Mao and the Communist Party are the saviors of the people? Do you believe in God or in Chairman Mao and the Communist Party?”
Eventually, we received a notice from the local government saying he would be executed. Since he was labeled “an incorrigible counterrevolutionary,” the rules said we would not be able to see him. But since our family belonged to the Miao minority group, the government had granted us a final meeting, for “revolutionary humanitarian reasons.”
On December 28, 1973, the day before my father’s execution, members of the local militia showed up at our door and informed us that we could visit him. A dozen of our family members gathered, and we went together. It took us several hours to reach the detention center. After passing through several checkpoints and layers of high walls, we finally saw our father. His hair had turned gray; he was thin, like a skeleton. Each time he moved, the shackles around his ankles clanked loudly. As he hobbled toward us, we all cried.
He was treated the same as a murderer. Seeing that our whole family was crying and sobbing, one guard howled at us: “Stop crying! Hurry up and talk to your father one by one. Time is limited.” He made us speak Mandarin so he could understand what we were saying.
My mother nodded at my father and said, “You are the one who used to do all the talking. We listen to you first.”
My father smiled. He understood what my mother meant. “I haven’t been able to reform my thinking,” my father said in his usual tone of a Christian minister. “Since I cannot be changed, I am responsible for, and deserve, what I receive. But for all of you, don’t follow me.