Mao's Last Dancer - Li Cunxin [11]
The second day of the New Year we would light lanterns and incense and show our ancestors the way back to their graves.
The fifteenth day of the New Year was always dreaded. It marked the beginning of our harsh life once again. From ancient times this night was traditionally the “Night of Lights.” We would walk around the house and shine torches into every corner to keep away evil spirits.
Since the weather was very cold and the fields frozen after the holiday, there wasn’t much work to do on our little piece of land. Our main outdoor activity during these days was kite flying. I often sat myself apart from the other kiteflying boys. For them this was just another game, but for me this time was special. My kite was my secret communication channel to the gods.
Our dia was an expert kitemaker. He made very simply shaped kites: a square, a six-pointed star, and a butterfly. I adored making kites with our dia. He would take us up to the Northern Hill and tell stories from his childhood. One of our favorites was “The Frog in the Well.”
There was a frog that lived in a small, deep well. His well and the sky he could see above it were his entire universe.
One day he met a frog who lived in the world above. “Why don’t you come down and play with me. It’s fun down here,” the frog in the deep well said.
“What’s down there?” the frog above asked.
“Everything. You name it. The streams, the undercurrent, the stars, the moon.” The frog on the land sighed. “My friend, you live in a confined world. You haven’t seen what’s out here in the bigger world.”
The frog below was very annoyed and went to ask his father if this were true. “Please don’t tell me there is a bigger world out there than ours!”
“My son, the world up there is enormous. But our destiny is down here. There is no way we can get out.”
The little frog was determined. “I can get out! I can!” He jumped and hopped, but the land above was too far away.
The poor little frog spent his whole life trying to escape from the dark, cold well. The big world above remained only a dream.
I thought about that poor frog in the well many times. Like him, we had no way out. I felt sad and frustrated.
So I would use my kite to send messages to the gods. I found refuge from the freezing wind in a ditch and took out my pocketful of small paper strips. I wet both ends of the paper with my tongue and looped each strip around the string of the kite. The strong wind pushed my paper loop up toward the kite.
The wish I sent up with my first paper loop was for my niang’s happiness. I told the gods that she was the kindest, most hardworking niang, but she was so poor. I challenged the gods: if they really existed, then they should change my niang’s situation. I would get angry with the gods for not being fair to my niang. Then I would become frightened, and beg them for forgiveness. After that, I would send a second wish, for my dia’s good health.
My last wish was my most important of all. I looped a third piece of paper around the kite string, and wished to get out of the deep, dark well. I daydreamed about all the beautiful things in life that were not mine. I begged them for more food for my family. I begged the gods to get me out of the well so I could help my family. My imagination traveled far beyond the faraway kite in the sky.
My messages to the gods often got stuck at the knots in the string along the way. I had to jerk the string to get them past the knots. Often I was the last one to leave the freezing fields on the Northern Hill. But it was my imagination that kept my heart warm and my hopes alive.
FOUR
Seven Brothers
My brothers and I were like all other boys, fighting at times and getting on each other’s nerves. But the bond between us was strong: we were expected to love and care for each other, to be happy for each other’s achievements. The older brothers were expected to look after the younger ones and the younger ones to respect the older.