The Diary of Ma Yan Read online

  I’m astonished. Why has she told me off like that? Have I said something really stupid? I feel terribly sad. Nothing is too much effort where her son is concerned, but I have to make do the best I can.

  I feel so alone. There’s no one to talk to.

  Sunday, October 8

  Rain

  Today I came back to the dormitory with a few other students. I put down what I was carrying. Then I asked Ma Shiping to lend me her exercise book and explain a question to me. She pretended that she didn’t understand it either.

  I tried to look at her exercise book, but she pulled it away and swore at me.

  Once again I have the feeling that everyone resents me, whereas I don’t feel resentful of anybody. Perhaps I’m not seeing things very clearly.

  I never lie. I’m not like Ma Shiping, who always tells lies, especially when she’s done wrong. I shall have to work even harder so that I never have to ask anyone’s help in understanding a question.

  Monday, October 9

  A gray day

  This afternoon we had a Chinese test. The teacher said to us, “Work quickly and it will soon be over.” My pulse raced. There was a question I didn’t know how to answer.

  I still haven’t solved the problem.

  Monday, October 23

  Light rain

  This morning after classes I went to the market in Yuwang with two friends. We saw a lot of people there who are very different from us. One doesn’t have a leg; another is missing a foot. There’s even a blind man.

  I used to think I’d never survive in this school. And today I meet a blind man. A blind man manages to live, so why shouldn’t I?

  I have to get better and better and get ahead of everyone at school.

  Tuesday, October 24

  A fine day

  This afternoon our music teacher, the one with the long braid, gives us a lesson.

  At the end she asks, “Who can tell us a story?” Everyone points to Yang Bin, a boy I like a lot. The teacher asks him to come up to the platform, but Yang Bin can’t get to the end of his story. Hu Zhimin takes over, but he can’t finish the story either. The teacher starts where he left off, but even she can’t bring it to a conclusion. Finally she tells us another story called “The Fox Eats the Chicken.” This is a funny story, and I’m drunk with laughter.

  Wednesday, October 25

  This afternoon our Chinese teacher asks us to sing, recite a poem, or tell a story.

  I particularly liked the song my brother Ma Yichao sang, “Wait for the Day When You Say Good-bye.”

  We learned this song together when we were in the third year. The words give us courage. “At the moment when Mother and Father come to say good-bye, they declare, ‘Child, I’m sending you on your way. Think no longer of your parents or of your beautiful native land.’”

  I like this song very much because it was Mother herself who taught it to us. When I hear it, I always think of her.

  Thursday, October 26

  This afternoon, during the break after our first Chinese lesson, we skipped rope. Our Chinese teacher, Ma Shixiong, a man of about twenty-seven, who’s very nice to us, stood and watched us. His face beamed with happiness, as if he were the same age as us. I haven’t seen him this happy since the term started.

  I think he’s reminded of his childhood when he watches us. When he was a child, he probably played the same games, and played them well.

  That’s why, seeing us skipping, he remembers that happy time and looks so pleased.

  Friday, October 27

  We walk home in a light rain, which gradually eases.

  I have a fight with Ma Shiping. She says I’m selfish, that I take other people’s things, but when others borrow my school things, I call them copycats.

  I reply, “Didn’t you borrow my things? Didn’t you take my exercise book? Who did you want to show it to?”

  “I didn’t take it. It was Xiao Hong,” she answers.

  I ask Xiao Hong, but she claims she’s got nothing to do with it.

  Ma Shiping is upset and says no more.

  So I retort, “You even lie to yourself.”

  Saturday, October 28

  This morning the weather was beautiful. But after a while the snow started to fall. Blown by the wind, the flakes floated and danced in the sky.

  Seeing the snow, I thought of one of my paternal grandmother’s sayings: “If it snows at the beginning of October, the wheat harvest the following year will be good.”

  That’s why I’m so happy to see snow. Let it snow a lot. The villagers will have water to drink and they won’t need to go and fetch it from far away.

  BITTER WATER

  There is no running water in the village of Zhangjiashu. The villagers have two ways of stocking up. They gather rain and snow water, which they store in cement tanks dug into the ground, and there is also a well of “bitter water,” located an hour’s walk from the village. The water from this well is only good for watering the fields or for household tasks. It irritates the skin if you use it for washing.

  Underground tanks hold drinkable water.

  Several times a week the villagers walk to the well to fetch the bitter water in buckets that hang from a wooden stick balanced on the back of the neck. The buckets are heavy, and children like Ma Yan and her brother can manage to carry only a single bucket home.

  According to Ma Yan’s mother, it’s best to arrive at the well before dawn if you don’t want to wait in line for a long time. This means setting off at about four in the morning.

  Sunday, October 29

  This morning it’s very cold. I’m off to visit my paternal grandmother, who lives with my fifth uncle in the village, and I stay for quite a while.

  When I get home, Mother starts to reprimand me. “Why don’t you prepare the vegetables you need for school yourself? You always wait for me to do it. Do you know where those little white rolls you like come from? Have you ever thought about it? I steam them for you and your brother, and then the rest of the family is deprived of wheat flour. You know very well we’re going through hard times and that I’m ill. And on top of that you want me to wait on you. You’re really heartless. I allow you to study, but you never think of me once you go to school.”

  All of these criticisms come out in any old order, and suddenly I’m angry. Other children pay a yuan to get a ride on a tractor to go to school. My brother and I always walk both ways.

  But it’s also true that we live in want. Without my mother, I would never have been able to go back to school. She doesn’t look after her health and she makes it possible for us to study.

  I really shall have to make my contribution to the country and have a good career so that my family isn’t looked down on any longer.

  Monday, October 30

  This afternoon the last period of the day was a class assembly where all our group’s problems were sorted out, whether they had to do with studying or health or dormitory life.

  Ma Ping and Ma Shengliang had had a quarrel. The insults they hurled at each other were painful to listen to. Suddenly the teacher opened the door. A comrade by the name of Hu had told him what was going on. Now the teacher reprimanded both students. They squirmed on their bench, ill at ease, in danger of squashing it under their weight. None of which stopped the teacher from continuing his severe criticism.

  I think he’s right to do so. In order for there not to be any more quarrels or out-and-out fights, this is the best thing he can do to ensure the good behavior of the entire class.

  Tuesday, October 31

  This afternoon our music teacher taught us a new song, “The Sun.” Then she asked us to sing everything we’d learned since our first lesson. When we had finished, she asked if anyone would like to sing alone. Everyone said that Ma Yichao sang very well.

  I’m so pleased for him. I’m proud of having a talented brother, especially since I can’t sing. Ma Yichao, who has a roguish manner, with his short hair and laughing eyes, is known throughout the s
chool for his songs. Whenever anyone asks for a singer, the answer is invariably, “Ma Yan’s brother.”

  My heart is full of joy, like a flower whose petals are opening.

  Wednesday, November 1

  It’s a beautiful day. We’re having our natural science class. The teacher reminds me of a teacher I had in my second year of elementary school. Their attitudes and gestures are very similar. When I see my current teacher, it makes me think of all the little attentions my old teacher paid me. So that I would have a good voice, he taught me to sing. So that I would be in good health, he had me do sports.

  Thursday, November 2

  Chinese lesson this morning. The teacher hasn’t prepared anything and he asks us to read the text ourselves. He picks Ma Chengmin, Ma Shilong, and Ma Shengliang. But these comrades don’t quite manage to read the whole text. The teacher then chooses Li Xiaoyan. She reads beautifully.

  The teacher calls on my brother twice, each time to answer a single question. He performs well and manages to give good answers. My anxiety is stilled. I was afraid my brother might make mistakes.

  The teacher asks Bai Xue what pretend and to never know mean. Bai Xue answers. My pulse is racing. I’m worrying that I’ll be next. I haven’t even finished my thought when the teacher asks me to stand up. He asks, “Into how many parts can lesson twelve be divided?” I answer, “Into three parts: first, the preparation for writing the letter; second, writing the letter; third, the sending of the letter.”

  I fear that my answer may be wrong, but the teacher says, “Correct,” and I relax a little. But the teacher continues to question me. “Is there anything else?” I give the right answer, and he says, “Correct, but you need to read the text some more.”

  Friday, November 3

  This afternoon my brother and I went home.

  It’s very cold, and when we get there, no one’s in. A neighbor tells us my mother went to see our paternal grandfather. My fifth uncle, a man who’s as tall as my father and who has had seven daughters, is building a house. My brother and I put on padded jackets that keep us very warm and go off to our grandfather’s.

  A lot of people are gathered to help build the house. The wind is so strong, it’s hard to keep our eyes open. We go into the house. Mother is busy cooking. She gives us two bowls of vegetables and tells us to eat up.

  A little later my grandfather comes in too. Mother gives him a bowl as well. Grandpa sits down on a stool and starts to eat. His eyes are full of tears from the wind. His cotton jacket and his shirt are so dirty, it’s best not to look at them. When I look at my grandmother, I think that she’s even more pitiful than he is. Her hair is all white; a towel full of holes covers her head. On top of this, she’s carrying two of my fifth uncle’s daughters in her arms. The children kick against her hard.

  How can Grandmother bear it? How her arms must ache…. In her place, I’d be in agony.

  If I manage to get through my studies and find work, I’ll certainly take my grandparents into my house so that they can lead a happier life. Then they won’t have to put up with fifth uncle’s constant bad temper. I just fear they won’t be able to hold on that long. But that would mean that they’re condemned to a miserable old age, without ever having had the chance to lead a good life.

  Ma Yan with her paternal grandparents

  MA YAN’S GRANDPARENTS

  When Ma Yan wrote these entries, her paternal grandfather, Ma Shunji, was eighty. His father had been a beggar who went from village to village begging alms. As a small child, Ma Shunji accompanied him. But when he turned four, his father sold him for forty-four pounds of rice and a handful of seeds to a rich landowner from Zhangjiashu who had no children of his own at the time. Ma Yan’s grandfather worked on the landowner’s farm from the age of seven until, at the age of twenty, he was given up to the army by his adoptive parents in 1941. He fought in the Chinese Revolution and in the Korean War, returning to Zhangjiashu in 1953.

  On the eve of his departure from his village, Ma Shunji had been married to a thirteen-year-old girl who, like him, was an orphan sold off to a large family. She waited for his return from the army for twelve years. Almost fifty years later, they are still living together in Zhangjiashu, after having had five boys, one of whom is Ma Yan’s father.

  Ma Yan’s mother’s family is much “richer” than that of her father.

  “We had more to eat in the family house,” Bai Juhua says. “When I saw my husband’s father’s house, small and dark and neglected, I wondered how an army veteran could live so badly. I was surprised that his life was so hard.”

  She also remembers the hostility of the villagers, who had only contempt for her in-laws. “‘Useless people,’ they said to me. I was advised to divorce and leave.” She stayed and became the pillar of her family.

  Ma Yan’s maternal grandparents criticize the paternal branch a great deal and rarely come to visit their daughter at home. The rivalry between the two families is one of Ma Yan’s motives for studying. She wants her mother’s family to stop being contemptuous of her father and to prove that his children can succeed.

  Saturday, November 4

  This morning Father came back from far away.* I suggested that I make a meal for him, but he said no. He had to go and help fifth uncle build his house. He immediately went out again. There’s only my brother and me in the house. I put a low table on the kang and do my homework there.

  My little brother is playing outside. A little while later other children come and play with him and then go away. When I’ve finished my work, I go and look for my brother. Hu Xiaoping, the son of a neighbor, tells me that he went off to fifth uncle’s house. I sit around for a bit, but then I get so bored that I go there too. Father and a lot of the other villagers work until nightfall. Then the others clamber down the house frame, eat, and go back home.

  Only my father and my little brother are still at work. They carry on until nine o’clock. Why don’t they stop? I ask.

  My fifth aunt, Uncle’s wife, answers me. “Your father only arrived at noon so he hasn’t done much work. And here you are telling him to stop already.”

  I should have replied, “Last year when we built our house, you only came to help in the afternoons. Did we say anything? You don’t even know how to tell good from bad. You and us, we’re not the same. We’re not the same at all.”

  But I didn’t say a word.

  Sunday, November 5

  This afternoon we were still at home, even though we should have been on our way to school. But our little bread rolls weren’t ready. My brother and I decided to leave in any case and locked the door. We went to find Father in the village, to give him the key, and he advised us to wait until we’d eaten before leaving. I told him Ma Shiping said we had to leave early today because we might be able to hitch a ride on a tractor.

  My brother says he’s hungry and thirsty. He sits down and waits for something to eat. My father gives me ten yuan to buy some bread with. I run into a shop to get change for the money and give five yuan back to my father. The rest will be enough for bread.

  I suddenly think that it has taken my father such hard work to earn these yuan. He’s given his sweat and blood for them, working in Inner Mongolia. How can I take them just on a whim? I must work harder and make it to a university, and get a good job. Then I’ll never again be weighed down and saddened by these questions of money.

  Monday, November 6

  This afternoon, I’m busy reading my Chinese manual when the bell rings to announce the end of the period. All my friends go out to play. A little while later, several of them come back to say that there’s going to be a Chinese test. My heart starts racing. People are getting their books out to look through them because the questions in the test will certainly be in there somewhere. And then someone claims the test will be on a wholly different subject and on a separate sheet of paper.

  I don’t trust myself, so I carry on studying the book.

  The lesson starts. The teacher comes in em
pty-handed. He says we’re going to have a class assembly instead of a test. I’m so happy. Full of joy like a bud blossoming into flower. I’m no longer afraid.

  Tuesday, November 7

  Music lesson this afternoon. The teacher gives us a new song to learn, “Little Tadpole.” It’s a lovely song. “Little tadpole, big head, tiny body, small tail, lives in the water and grows until he’s utterly transformed.”

  The teacher sings it a few times with us, then asks us to sing it without her. We sing in chorus for a few minutes, then the teacher asks us to sing one by one. “Who’s a good singer?” she asks, and the pupils all shout out in unison, “Li Xiaoyan, Bai Xue, Ma Zhonghong, and Ma Xiaojun.”

  The teacher with the long braid asks my brother Ma Yichao, “Why don’t you sing for your comrades? What do you all think?” Everyone approves.

  My brother gets up and sings. He’s very funny, and everyone bursts into laughter. He isn’t the person he used to be. He’s become a comedian. He tells funny stories. He likes playing the clown.

  In this school we only learn one song a week. “Little Tadpole” is the one I like singing most of all.

  Wednesday, November 8

  It’s beautiful this morning. My father came from the village and brought bread for my brother and for me. After class I went to the market with my brother. My father’s already there waiting for us. I ask him why he asked us to meet him here. He says he wants us to have one very good meal.

  He takes us to one of the little restaurants on Yuwang’s main street, orders two bowls of rice cooked in a meat soup, and tells us to eat. Afterward he also buys us some apples, telling us we’re to eat them with our evening bread.

  On the road back to school, I meet my great-uncle and his wife, my second uncle and his wife, my third uncle, and my maternal grandfather. They say to me, “So you went to market too.” I say yes.

  They don’t invite my brother and me to eat with them. I think about this. How good it is to have parents! Without parents, you’re an orphan and there’s no one to take care of you and love you.