Gold Mountain Blues - Ling Zhang [265]
Ah-Yuen held Kam Sau in his arms. “The dawn’s coming. There’s nothing to be afraid of now.”
As they lay awake, Ah-Yuen said: “Write to your brother tomorrow and tell him the shoe’s on the other foot and this is where the good times are now. Tell him to come home and live out his days here.”
Kam Sau smiled. “The new government has new currency. We can’t use the American dollars my brother sends any more.” “Of course we can,” said Ah-Yuen. “It would make nice green wallpaper. If we stick them up, it’ll be a reminder that there are still Chinese living a hard life in Gold Mountain.”
1952
Spur-On Village, Hoi Ping County, Guangdong Province
When Kam Sau’s meeting in town had finished, she picked up her daughter and they set off for Spur-On Village to see Six Fingers.
They had not been home for three Sundays running, for various reasons. Kam Sau had had a number of meetings to attend because the School for All was merging with a local government school and Ah-Yuen had to stay behind for another meeting. Wai Heung had graduated this summer from upper primary and was at the county middle school. This was even farther from the diulau than her parents’ school so she could not go home every weekend.
Wai Heung had shot up and, at fifteen, was nearly as tall as her mother. She was still a beanpole, although there were signs that she was developing a young woman’s curves. In her neat white blouse and blue trousers, she looked ready to burst into bloom.
Kam Sau was delighted to see her daughter again. “How’s your homework?” she asked. “Is it more difficult than in primary?” “The homework’s easy,” said Wai Heung, “but it’s hard to learn our lines. Last week the whole class went with the work team to the villages to promote land reform.”
Kam Sau was surprised. “What do you know about land reform?” she asked. “Chairman Mao tells us: Get rid of bandits and tyrants, cancel tenancies and mortgages,” her daughter began. Her face was screwed up with effort, and Kam Sau could not help smiling. “Do you really understand it? Or are you just reciting it?” “Of course I understand it. It means ‘Down with the exploiting class!’”
They plodded on getting hot and sweaty, then sat down by the roadside and drank from their army-issue water bottles. Wai Heung wiped the sweat from her forehead and asked her mother tentatively: “Mum, is our family in the exploiting class?” “Of course not.” “But we have fields, and tenant farmers and farmhands.” “That doesn’t mean we’re the exploiting class. Your grandfather was a labourer in Gold Mountain and so were your uncles, and every inch of our family’s fields was bought with their sweat and blood.”
Wai Heung seemed reassured by her words, but Kam Sau was puzzled: “Who’s been giving you those silly ideas?” she asked. “Auntie Ah-Hsien.” “Huh!” said her mother. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.”
Kam Ho’s widow, Ah-Hsien, was no longer the dull, bovine woman she used to be. Nowadays she was much more talkative; she had an opinion on everything.
When Six Fingers told her to put more water in the rice, Ah-Hsien responded that that was only what poor people did in the old days, to eke out the little they had. Now that they were liberated, everyone had more than enough to eat, and there was no need to make the rice go further.
On Tam Kung’s birthday, when Six Fingers told her to take the fruit offering to the altar and light incense sticks, Ah-Hsien did as she was told, but only after delivering herself of the opinion