Becoming Madame Mao

  Oh, it's warm. It's moving like a worm. Look at this fluffy hair. You smell like an overfermented sourdough bread.

  Nah starts to lunge at Fairlynn's breast.

  Milk time! I laugh.

  Fairlynn passes Nah back to me in embarrassment.

  Would you like to hear my new novel, Jiang Ching? It's entitled The New Nora. It's about how Nora walks out of house number one and enters house number two.

  Leaning on the pillow I ask my husband's opinion of Fairlynn.

  I don't take those bookworms too seriously, Mao responds. What do Fairlynn types know? Dictionaries? What is a dictionary but pages of dead words anyway? Can she tell the difference between rice shoots and weeds? What could be easier than being a bookworm? It's harder to learn to be a chef or a butcher. A book has no legs, one can open or close it at any time. A pig has legs that can run and a pig has vocal cords that can wail. The butcher has to catch and slaughter it. The chef has to make the stinky meat taste delicious. These are the real talents. What's Fairlynn? She plays in the school of thoughts only because we let her...

  She cuddles under him. Boss, do you think Fairlynn is attractive?

  Why do you ask?

  Just curious. She's no beauty, is she?

  Huh...

  Let me tell you a crowd of men are trying to get her attention. They range from generals to soldiers. They fantasize about her as if she were the protagonist in her novel. Little Dragon doesn't even know how to spell, but he recites Fairlynn's poems.

  What has been Fairlynn's reaction? Was she interested in our soldiers?

  Well, she has said that she doesn't want to enter any house of Torvald's. She calls your men chimpanzees.

  That's interesting. Mao's voice is fading.

  Have you read her?

  I have copies of her books which she sent me. Mao turns over and blows out the candle.

  Did you know that Fairlynn hangs out with the local Bolsheviks? Jiang Ching suddenly asks in the dark.

  I'm tired. I'll look into the matter after ... after ... I finish with the Party's convention.

  May I take part in the convention?

  No answer.

  She asks again.

  Mao starts snoring.

  ***

  Beyond the harsh valley of Yenan, the world lurches toward the greatest conflagration of the century. The Nazi-Germans begin to move across Europe. The Japanese fan out over the Pacific. Closer to home, Mao begins his intense competition with Chiang Kai-shek for the ruling power of China.

  Jiang Ching celebrates her next four birthdays in the small garden at the mouth of their cave. At thirty-one she has become an expert seamstress and is used to having their living room used as a war headquarters. Once in a while after an important battle is won, Mao sends away his comrades. He takes a day off to spend with the children. More rarely, he escorts his wife to a local performance to see an opera, an orchestra or a troupe of folk singers. Sensing his wife's frustration, he makes his horse available to her.

  After only a few lessons from Little Dragon, I am able to ride out by myself. With a little practice, I soon become quite confident. The land surrounding Yenan is perfect for riding, open and rolling. I tie my hair up into a bun and speed the animal. I ride over the hills and along the riverbank. The breeze on my face makes me feel the spring. Smiling into the wind I think to myself, I am a bandit girl! I ride until the horse's nostrils are wide with panting and his sweat has soaked the blanket. And then I dig my heels in for one last gallop.

  Madame Mao Jiang Ching is content yet bored at the same time. She is getting tired of her role as a housewife. She realizes that she cannot be satisfied with a house full of children, hens, roosters, goats and vegetables. Her mind needs stimulation. She needs a stage. She begins to exercise her role the way she sees it. She reads documents that pass across Mao's desk. She learns that the United States has entered the war. She learns that Hitler is being pushed out of the Soviet Union and that the Japanese are in retreat. The Chinese Communist Party has expanded and is the largest political group in the world. Her husband has become a household name and a symbol of power and truth.

  What has become of me? the actress asks herself. Fairlynn occupies a seat in the Party's convention while she, as Mao's wife, can't even attend its opening.

  Fairlynn sits among the delegation in the front row and is voted a speaker for the nation's intellectuals. During a break Fairlynn pays a visit to Madame Mao Jiang Ching. She congratulates her on her husband's rise to power and asks if Madame Mao compares herself to Madame Roosevelt. Fairlynn describes Madame Roosevelt, her achievement in American politics and Western history.

  The wife of Mao listens as she washes her husband's and children's clothes in a bucket. The water is freezing. She washes the bowls, woks and scrubs the chamber pot. Her hands are swelling with frostbite. The soap slips through her fingers.

  One night I try to discuss Madame Roosevelt with Mao. You are not Madame Roosevelt. He kicks off his shoes and blows out the candle.

  Suddenly I am depressed. For the rest of the month I try to read.

  But there is no way I can concentrate. An incident almost took place as I neglected my duty—Nah nearly fell into the manure pit—and it makes me put down the books.

  The tailor comes to accompany me, but I send her back. I no longer want to hear the news.

  Mao holds small meetings at home. He doesn't tell me ahead of time. He doesn't tell me who will be coming either. It's his style. He just sends Little Dragon for them on his terms. It can be three o'clock in the morning or midnight. They are expected to share a meal and discuss battles. I am supposed to put out food and go to war in the kitchen. Sometimes a cook or the guards help me. But it is my job to clean up afterwards.

  I am playing a strange role: a queen who is a maid.

  At the convention Mao is elected the Party's sole boss. Liu Shao-qi, who has built the Communist network in Chiang Kai-shek's white territories, is voted the second boss. Vice Chairman Liu Shao-qi has praised Mao highly in his acceptance speech. Little Dragon excitedly updates me with the details of the convention. Liu Shao-qi mentioned Mao's name one hundred and five times! The guard expects me to be thrilled, but I can hardly hide my misery.

  At bedtime, afterwards, the wife again asks if she can be given a seat at the convention. The husband switches the tone of his voice.

  I can't give anybody a seat. One has to earn it.

  The wife sits up. You don't think I have earned it?

  He doesn't answer but makes a sigh.

  She wipes her tears. Well, I need a chance to earn it then.

  Mao produces a list of books for me to read. He is giving me the prescription he gave to Zi-zhen. Marx, Engels, Lenin, Stalin, The Three Kingdoms and The Record of History. But I won't be reading them. Not one of them. I already know what kind of pills are in his bottle. Not only do I refuse to become Zi-zhen, I am determined not to be a stagehand in his political theater.

  ***

  As Jiang Ching tries to break onto his stage, Mao launches a movement called Rectify the Style of Work. The year is 1942. At first it is considered a routine political examination, then it turns into terror. All of a sudden "traitors," "reactionaries," and "Chiang Kai-shek's agents" are caught everywhere. What later surprises historians is that the movement is initiated by Mao and conducted by Kang Sheng—two masters of conspiracy who set up an imaginary plot against themselves.

  The movement is narrowing. The focus has become the extermination of the enemies within. Panic sweeps through the entire base of Yenan. To make oneself stand out as a hard-core left-winger, a true Communist, one begins to put others down, even to accuse others as right-wingers. In the morning one can be thought of as a revolutionary activist, by noon an anti-Communism suspect, by evening an enemy. One can be seen in a day meeting forcing others to plead guilty, and in an evening meeting be oneself arrested and thrown into a dark confession room.

  The drill for the movement is Ren-ren-guo-guan—"a
critical juncture everyone has to pass." The meetings are like chemical jars—when enemies are dipped, they show disease.

  It doesn't matter that she is Madame Mao. To show the Party's fairness she will be checked no differently. She is told that it is her turn to dip herself in the chemical jar.

  She is nervous. She worries about her background, in particular, her signature on Chiang Kai-shek's paper denouncing Communism. Although her friend Kang Sheng has instructed her on what to do she is still unsure.

  Would you please attend my spot? she begs Kang Sheng.

  When her day comes Kang Sheng is among the crowd.

  Madame Mao Jiang Ching is put in the center of the room, spotted by the eyes of hundreds. She gives a self-evaluation as the format requests. Taking a deep breath she begins the process of convincing. The description is smoothly prepared and stated in graceful Mandarin. Her background could not be more pure: a child of feudalistic abuse, a young Communist in Qing-dao, her time in Shanghai as a left-wing actress devoted to films against the Japanese invaders, and her final landing in Yenan as a mature revolutionary and wife of Mao.

  She believes that her performance is seamless. However, a couple of people in the crowd question the period she had skipped. A witness is demanded to prove her bravery in prison.

  Suddenly she panics and turns defensive.' Her lines become messy and words disconnected. What's the point? I have to produce a witness! Why? Are you saying that I am making up my story? How can I do this? I have been a revolutionary. And I will not be afraid of you!

  For a while there is silence, but it is clear what is on everyone's mind. There is a desire to see the actress fail. To trip over herself, break a prop and fall off the stage. Soon the crowd begins to attack in one voice. What's this attitude, Comrade Jiang Ching? What makes you so nervous if you don't have anything to hide? Why the hysteria? Isn't it healthy for comrades to question when there are doubts? Especially about one's release from the enemy's prison? It is everyone's obligation to cooperate. Nobody is above the Communist Party in Yenan. Not even Mao's wife.

  Gradually the nature of the event changes. Doubts grow heavy. The details, dates, hours, minutes are being questioned, compared and analyzed. Demands for an explanation grow more insistent. She is falling into a trap, set by her own previous fabrication. Her story begins to contradict itself. The holes in her lies begin to reveal themselves. She is cornered.

  Her face turns red, veins on her neck popping blue. She looks horrified and turns to Kang Sheng, her eyes begging for help.

  On cue the master actor breaks into the scene.

  The Central Bureau of Security has already investigated the matter, Kang Sheng begins. The conclusion is positive—Comrade Jiang Ching's strength has been tested. It is proven truth that she has been loyal to the Party. She has done tremendous work for the revolution. She has risked her life.

  Kang Sheng lights a cigarette. With a straight face he paints a picture of a Communist goddess. Finally he throws the ball to the crowd. How would you explain Comrade Jiang Ching's action in leaving behind the city of luxury and pleasure, Shanghai, for hardships in Yenan? If it is not her faith in Communism, then what is it?

  The goat-beard man pauses, looks around and is pleased with his effectiveness—the way he confuses. To tighten the screw, he gives a final twist. Therefore, to trust the result of the Party's investigation is to trust Comrade Jiang Ching. To trust Comrade Jiang Ching is to trust the Party and Communism itself. Any doubts based upon assumptions abuse an individual's rights, which would be a reactionary act and evidence of right-wing activity, implying sympathy with Wang Ming's gang and the ultimate enemy.

  The lips are clamped and the voices are silenced. The interrogation stops. I am sure this will get me through this crisis, although not necessarily the next. There are questions hanging on those people's faces. Why is Kang Sheng aggressive and merciless in handling other cases while spoiling this one?

  ***

  Kang Sheng intimidates and never worries about how anyone thinks of him except Mao. And Mao keeps promoting him. In her marriage she discovers that only when she follows Kang Sheng's advice does she succeed. Kang Sheng is her education.

  In the future there will be one secret Madame Mao and Kang Sheng never discuss but share knowingly. It is what makes them partners, rivals and enemies at the same time. Count every member of the Communist Party—no one has ever dared to think about surpassing Mao and taking over China but Kang Sheng and Jiang Ching.

  ***

  Chiang Kai-shek's military equipment is supplied by Americans and is the most advanced in the world. Mao, on the other hand, works with primitive weapons. It is the end of World War II and the beginning of China's civil war. On the international front, Stalin has proposed a negotiation between Mao and Chiang Kai-shek. For Stalin, a united China is more powerful. Stalin sees China as a potential ally with which to oppose the Americans. To show broad-mindedness, my husband takes the risk and accepts Chiang's invitation to Chong-Qin—the capital city of Chiang's government—for a peace talk. Although his colleagues and aides suspect a conspiracy, my husband insists on going.

  Midsummer Chong-Qin is a bathhouse. With an American diplomat as a host, Mao Tse-tung and Chiang Kai-shek shake hands in front of the cameras. Next they perform an agreement-signing ceremony. Mao is in his shapeless white cotton uniform while Chiang is in a starched Western-inspired suit with rows of medals glistening over his shoulders and across his chest.

  There will not be two suns shining above the sky of China, Mao says to me on our flight back to Yenan. He sees civil war as unavoidable. I tell him that I admire his bravery. He says, Darling, it is the fear, the blindness toward death that drives me to win.

  Angry, Chiang Kai-shek begins to drop his bombs over our roof again. Mao orders the famous Yenan evacuation. The Red Army soldiers and peasants are mobilized to move into remote mountain areas. Mao refuses to see anyone who complains about the abandonment of their homeland. To turn people away he invites Fairlynn to the cave for a discussion and chat.

  My husband has been meeting with Fairlynn since the early morning. They chat from politics to literature, from ancient bronze to poetry. Bowl to bowl and pack to pack, the two toast in rice wine and smoke cigarettes. The room is a chimney.

  After I put Nah to sleep I come out, making my presence a protest against the intruder. I sit next to my husband.

  Fairlynn's spirit is fueled by alcohol. Under Mao's encouragement she is argumentative. She scratches her hair with her fingers. Her Shakespeare hairdo is now a bird's-nest. Her eyes are bloody red. She laughs with all her teeth showing.

  Inhaling, Mao stretches out his legs, crossing one foot over another.

  The history of China is the history of yin, he argues loudly as he pushes the ashtray toward Fairlynn. He then pushes his tea mug. He likes to share tea with women. He did it with Kai-hui, Zi-zhen, Jiang Ching and now Fairlynn. He adds water to the mug, then goes on. Our ancestors invented ammunition to use only for festival decorations. Our fathers smoked opium to avoid thinking. Our nation has been poisoned by Confucius's theories. We have been raped by the nations who are strong in yang. "Raped" is the precise word! Mao's fist punches the table. A few peanuts fall on the ground.

  Chairman, I don't mean to challenge you. Fairlynn picks up the dropped peanuts. In your writings there is a sense of praising the war itself. I found that extremely interesting, or may I say disturbing? You praised violence itself. You believe in martial law. Your true purpose is to kill the yin element in the Chinese, am I right?

  Mao nods.

  So you kill, Fairlynn presses.

  I kill to heal.

  Fairlynn shakes her head. Chairman, you are making us the prisoners of your thinking house. You make us bite and chew on each other's flesh in order to exercise your ideal yang. Am I allowed to say that you're crazy to give our minds no pleasure to wonder and experience?...Sir, you're stir-frying an overnight dish—you are nothing original—you're copying Hitler!
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  If this wakes up the nation, I'll bear the shame! Mao pitches his voice like an opera character.

  Mao! You are the most outrageous individualist I have ever met. You are fascinated by yourself! But what about the rest? What about their right to be as individualistic as you are? The great thinkers, journalists, novelists, artists, poets and actors?

  Comrade Fairlynn, you have been poisoned. Mao laughs confidently. The westerners think that the authors and artists are supermen, but they are only men with animal instincts. The best of them are men with mental illnesses. Their nature is to sell tricks! How can you regard them so religiously? You must have spent a lot for this pair of artificial frog-eyes. Poor thing, you have been robbed!

  Two o'clock in the morning and I see no end to the discussion. Mao and Fairlynn are on their third jar of wine. The subject has turned to beauty.

  You are not unlike any other male creature on this earth. Look at Comrade Jiang Ching! Beauty of the red base! Mao, I thought you were not one of the Shakespearean characters. But look at what you are doing! You are stuffing Marxism into a flashlight—using it only to examine the others. Don't embarrass me with your so-called knowledge of Western literature. You remind me of the frog who lives in the bottom of a well who thinks the sky is only as big as the ring. You're selling your hot-pepper tricks to illiterate peasants. You are making yourself a fool in front of me. Yes, yes, yes. Sometimes I do think your writings on morality are a joke. After I read them, they lie on the floor of my mind in complete disarray and disorder!

  What a pleasure to hear this! How daring that you come to my cave to burn my grains! Water! Hot water! Jiang Ching!

  I get up, pick up the teapot and go to the kitchen.