The Diary of Ma Yan Page 8

  The comrades agree.

  The teacher goes on, “Do any of you have financial problems?”

  “No,” they all reply in chorus.

  He adds, “If anyone has a money problem, put your hand up.”

  I put my hand up.

  The teacher asks, “Does your family have problems?”

  I answer him in English, “Yes.”

  Since he’s the English teacher, I’m supposed to speak to him in English.

  He says, “If you really have financial problems, you won’t have to contribute. Some families are in real difficulty. They can’t even pay their children’s school fees.”

  I think of my third year of primary school. I had no money to buy schoolbooks. Mother and a few women she knows went off to pick fa cai. With that money, I could buy my own books. But I missed a few months of school. At the beginning I understood nothing at all. Then, after two or three months of hard work, I caught up.

  I feel like shouting at the top of my lungs, My mother is excessively kind to her children. There is nothing she won’t do for them. Instead I will write it down. “Mother, you are great. I love you. I love your spirit. You are so strong. So pure. You’re an example to your daughter. In your daughter’s heart you will always be a great woman.”

  Thursday, September 13

  A fine day

  This evening during study hours I look up and notice that I’m all alone in the room. It looks bigger than usual. Suddenly I’m frightened. I grab my bag and fly from the room like a gust of wind.

  Outside I meet my friend Yang Yuehua. She’s walking very slowly. It seems strange. Usually she’s so open and friendly. What’s wrong with her today? I ask her what’s going on.

  It seems her test went very badly. She cries, and I console her. “It’s only a little test. You’ll have lots of opportunities to do better….”

  She replies through her tears, “My mother has worked so hard for me. And this is the way I pay her back. I can’t even thank her properly for all those rolls she makes for me every week.”

  I’m full of admiration for her. She thinks clearly. Surely she’ll study well and have a good career.

  Friday, September 14

  A gray day

  This morning after classes I went to get a bowl of rice. My comrade, Ma Yongmei, went to get water. When we had finished the rice, I put my hand into the very back of the wooden bread box that I keep on my bed, but the bread had all gone long ago. I’m still hungry, because between the two of us, we’ve only had a half pound of rice.

  You’re probably going to say, half a pound for two, isn’t that enough? But a half pound only fills a small bowl. We shared it. Each of us was only allowed half. If you think that fills us up…On top of it, we’ve run out of rolls.

  I watch the others who are eating watermelon, my mouth watering in spite of myself. I’ve had a cold for a few days and I feel quite sick. I sit dumbly on the edge of my bed. A comrade sees my state and gives me a pill. I feel better after that. That medicine is more precious to me than treasure. This girl is called Bai Jing, and her image is now engraved on my soul. She’s someone one can take as a model.

  Saturday, September 15

  A gray day

  Today is the beginning of the weekend. My brother and I walk along the endless path. From the road we can see fields full of melons. We’re very hungry. My brother goes off into the fields to steal a little onion, a few turnips, and we eat them on our way. I know that stealing is wrong and that students shouldn’t do such things. But what are we to do? If we don’t steal from the fields, we probably won’t make it home.

  I walk slowly. My legs hurt a lot. I think I’m the unhappiest girl in the whole world.

  I think of my mother again. I don’t know how she is. She gets up at five thirty in the morning and works till seven in the evening. Every day she and the other women who have gone to pick fa cai walk with their eyes on the ground, their backs bent to the sky. How many mountains has she scaled this way?

  Sunday, September 16

  A little rain

  Today I have to go back to school. Father has got our things ready for us and given us enough money to get a tractor ride to Yuwang. We climb up on the back wagon. A little farther on, the granddaughter of our third paternal great-uncle* joins us. My second uncle then climbs up onto the tractor. He puts his niece on his lap, and fearing that she may get cold, he wraps a bag over her legs. She’s already thirteen. Doesn’t she know how to take care of herself?

  I see them laugh. I also see my little brother shivering from cold. I give him my hat. On this rainy morning, my anger reaches the boiling point.

  My paternal grandfather was adopted. He’s not really close to these people, who look down on him. My mother won’t tolerate any contempt for our generation. She wants us to become people of substance. The trouble my parents take on our account is enormous. When I see the looks these people give us, I think of my grandfather. It’s for him that we need to study, so that people look up to us for the rest of our lives.

  The long, empty road between school and home

  Monday, September 17

  Rain

  Last night, during the study hour, we had an English test. I found it easy. In less than half an hour I’d finished. The teacher in charge asked us to give him our papers when we had finished. He lectured me, “At that speed, how can you possibly have done well?”

  I gave him my paper nonetheless.

  But this morning the comrades are all abuzz. They’re all saying, “Ma Yan may work well, but she didn’t come in first!”

  As I listen to them, I’m ashamed. My parents have done so much for me, and this is the way I repay them.

  Then I reminded myself that there are more exams to come, at midterm and at the end of term. By then I’ll have made great progress. I’ll work really hard, with no slacking. I just hope my wishes come true.

  Tuesday, September 18

  Rain

  When our last class is over, our English teacher asks us to stay for another twenty minutes to copy out words. After that we go to get our food, but there’s nothing left. There are a few teachers in the canteen too, so I deliberately protest in a loud voice.

  “Our stomachs are crying out with hunger. We’ve run here as quickly as we could, and there’s nothing left. We pupils, we dream of nothing but these bowls of rice from morning until evening. How do you expect us to make it through the day? If there were some bread at least…But there’s no bread. And on top of it all, it’s a rainy day! Our spirits grow weaker and weaker, especially on empty stomachs.”

  The teachers say nothing. How I want to go home and eat my fill. I’ll come back to school only when my stomach’s full.

  Then I remind myself that to study well, you probably have to put up with some suffering.

  Thursday, September 20

  A gray day

  At noon I came back from the canteen with some rice. I put the bowl on the bed. Ma Yongmei divided the rice in two and took her share.

  Before I can start on my bowl, my little brother Ma Yichao arrives. He asks, “Sister, have you still got tickets for the canteen? I want to buy some rice.”

  I borrow a ticket and give it to him.

  Then he asks me if I’ve eaten.

  “Yes, I have.”

  But he guesses that it isn’t true.

  “You haven’t eaten. Your lips are dry. The lips of people who have eaten are moist.”

  A little while later he comes back and returns the canteen ticket. He says there’s no more rice. He goes off again.

  How can I help him? I have no money, no bread. I don’t know what to do…. Yet I’m his older sister and if I have no sense of responsibility, what am I good for? I cry. I tell myself it’s not all my fault that our family’s financial situation is so dire.

  It’s impossible to describe the sensation of HUNGER.

  Sunday, September 30

  A bright day

  This afternoon we come back from t
he grain fields and I’m so hungry, I think I can see smoke coming out of my stomach. As soon as Mother arrives, she goes to the kitchen to prepare food. I ask my father for a yuan so that I can buy an English notebook. One of my cousins, the son of my fourth uncle, comes to visit. He tells me that my mother has lent my fourth-grade books to other children in the elementary school. I ask her if this is true, and she says yes.

  I’m angry because those books are still useful to me. How could she have given them away so easily? I want to be able to study. There are questions I still don’t understand.

  For some time now, when the teacher is lecturing, I haven’t been seeing clearly. He’ll say for example that this is an even number and this is an odd number, but I can’t clearly distinguish what he’s writing on the blackboard. Nor can I hear properly. I have to pay close attention to what the teachers and pupils are saying. When you’re nearsighted, it’s hard to follow the work. If you don’t see properly, you can only count on your ears. And when your ears are also bad, then…

  Mother grumbles at me. “You work so hard, but what have you managed to achieve? Not even the girls’ school. What’s the point of carrying on? It would be better if you gave it up and came home.”

  Her criticisms are never-ending. I can’t sum them up in a single line. I store up what she says inside myself. I know I’ll never forget it.

  It’s not only her fault. It’s mine too. I’ve disappointed my mother.

  My whole family resents me. I feel horribly alone. I think about school life. Keeping up with work is so hard when you can’t see. So I think of giving up and coming home. But if this is how my family treats me…I no longer know what path to take. Who’ll show me a good and generous road?

  Tuesday, October 2*

  A fine day

  When we finish our homework this afternoon, my brother and I go off to our grandmother’s, where our father is working for our fifth uncle. As soon as we get there, we help our father move a pile of earth. But when we want to go home again, he asks us to stay a little longer.

  Our grandfather starts to tell stories about his youth, dating from his time in the army.

  There was one soldier who always wet his bed at night. The head of the squad beat him daily on account of this, but he couldn’t seem to rid himself of his bad habit. The other soldiers wanted to stop the beatings, but they couldn’t convince their chief. He just wouldn’t listen. Worst of all, he tied the feet of the poor youth and hit him so much that he wept. At the end of it all, the soldier was sent home.

  Our grandfather confesses that he loathed the head of their squad. But he doesn’t tell us anything of his own plight or bitterness. I think he was a great soldier. He won battles and he founded our family, which is a large one. I’m proud of him.

  Grandfather, I want to note it here, how very much I admire you, what a great and brave man I think you are. Throughout the world, from now on, it’ll be recognized that you are one of the seeds of our army.

  Wednesday, October 3

  A fine day

  This afternoon my brother Ma Yichao and I did the housework. Then we went to my fifth uncle’s, where my father has been working the last few days in order to earn some money. We helped him as best we could.

  When I looked at the clock, it was already five. I called my brother because we needed to go back and do our homework.

  My fifth uncle’s youngest son clung to our legs and whimpered. He wanted to come with us and see his mother. But I knew she wasn’t there. She’d gone far away to harvest fa cai. His father wasn’t there either, and his two elder brothers had gone to stay with their maternal grandmother. I lifted him up in my arms, and he started crying for real.

  Seeing his tears, I was reminded of our childhood. When our parents weren’t at home, we were pitiable creatures. I carried him to our house and asked myself why, when a child cries or is alone, he always shouts for Mother. Why doesn’t he ask for Father?

  Friday, October 5

  A gray day

  Market day today. Mother comes home from my maternal grandmother’s. I go out to welcome her on the front porch. My mother’s face is as black as coal, and her lips are all cracked. She looks terrible. What’s wrong with her? Usually when she comes back from her mother’s, she’s happy, full of chat and laughter. But today…

  Mother comes into the room and pours out all her resentments to us. “When someone’s poor, it’s no good going back to your parents’ family. Your grandfather loves me, yet since I left home, he’s turned his back on me. He didn’t ask me a single question, not even why I had come, or if it was cold on the way. He didn’t say a single word.

  “I’m really furious. I’m not going to go and see them anymore. Listen to me, all three of you. Study well in order not to grow up like your father, who has suffered the contempt of everyone around him all his life long. Forget the mocking laughter of your maternal grandfather. You’ll have to be successful and show him how wrong he’s been about everything.”

  Saturday, October 6

  A gray day

  This afternoon I got bored. I called a few children over to play with me. We drew a round circle on the ground in the yard and ran about inside it. Suddenly my paternal grandfather arrived. He had come to eat watermelon. He had a little smile on his face, and I accompanied him into the room and asked him to sit on the kang. I placed the low table on the kang and cut him a piece of watermelon and another of sweet melon. I handed the slices to him.

  Crouched beside him, I watched him. He talked to me while he ate. He’s already eighty and he doesn’t have much time left. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if he could live to be a hundred? By then, even if I haven’t got a brilliant career, I’ll certainly have some kind of job. And I’ll be able to offer him a few last good days.

  Monday, October 8

  A fine day

  The sixth lesson of the day is devoted to a daily class meeting. Here’s what our main teacher, the one who teaches Chinese, taught us.

  The first thing to respect, he told us, is school discipline. The second is our daily ten minutes of morning exercise. Thirdly, our studies: “Those who have greater difficulty than others must start their work earlier and keep to a rigorous schedule, so that they know exactly when it’s time to study math and so on. Never think you’re behind the others; just get on with it. You can always make progress by studying well.”

  Why does each teacher talk about making progress? Now every time I think of the word, my hair stands on end. Do you know why? Because in the last English exam, I came in second. It’s cruel when I think of it.

  But I’ve taken in what the teacher said today. I have to make a greater effort.

  Thursday, October 11

  A fine day

  This morning after our last class I stay behind to do an essay. Suddenly the head of games comes in and tells me to go outside and join the ranks. “All the others are already lined up. There’s only you left.”

  I go out to the sports ground and concentrate on standing very straight.

  The other comrades have just started their games. Some are skipping rope, others are playing soccer, and still others are engaged in a game of tag between an eagle and chickens. I’d like to play too, but my heart isn’t in it.

  When I hear the children who aren’t boarders talking about their families, I automatically think of my own. It makes me want to go straight home to see my mother and to ask her to make me a lovely dish of food. That would be great. I can already see myself chatting away happily to Mother.

  Suddenly Ma Yichao runs past me, as fast as the wind. As soon as I see him, I stop having these dark thoughts and go off to play with the others.

  I don’t know what’s wrong with me these days. I’m all upset about things. I don’t know quite what I’m doing or thinking. My moods go up and down.

  Wednesday, October 17

  A fine day

  We have a free period this afternoon. Our English teacher dictates a text to us. Two of the comrades can’t ma
nage to write it down. The teacher hits them very hard with the leg of a chair. Bruises immediately appear on their arms and legs.

  This teacher wants us to do well, but he hits too hard. I think he enjoys it. I weep without showing the tears. I think their parents would be weeping too, if they saw how badly their children were treated.

  The teacher is raging and shouts, “If you still haven’t learned your lessons by the next period, I won’t give you another chance. I’ll choose only the brightest students to answer questions. And that’ll be that. I won’t come back to you at all.”

  During the class the teacher calls on me several times. My comrades look at me with envious eyes. They would do anything to get the better of me.

  I mustn’t worry about this. I mustn’t let anything prevent me from attaining my goals and making good my plans for the future. I’ll try to do something to change their jealous glances into admiring ones. I’ll be as strong as my mother. When she encounters difficulties, she confronts them alone, and no one dares laugh at her.

  Failure is the mother of success. But it worries me to see the teacher striking the pupils. What will happen if they get hurt?

  During the evening study period, these comrades managed to learn the words they hadn’t known before. Why do they work better after they’ve been beaten? Their parents hope they’ll become accomplished people, but after so many difficult years of study, how will they fulfill these expectations?

  A skinny dog no longer manages to jump over a wall, even with help.

  That’s one of my mother’s proverbs. I’ve never forgotten it. But it’s only now that I grasp its full meaning.

  Thursday, October 18

  A fine day

  Today in Chinese class the teacher asks us to write an essay on the theme of being in middle school. He takes the opportunity to explain to us the difference between the fast and the slower classes. The worst students in the fast class will be put into the slower class, and the teacher will be punished. That’s why he wants us to work hard. All of us will reap the benefits. Finally he stops talking and tells us to start writing.