The peasants taught the intellectuals the songs they sang as they planted crops, and how to slaughter pigs. Having grown up in bookish, learned environments, the intellectuals shuddered at the sight of blood, and often astonished the peasants with their lack of practical skills and knowledge.
A woman university professor I once interviewed told me how the peasant who had been supervising her looked at the wheat seedlings she had uprooted by mistake and asked pityingly, ‘You can’t even tell the difference between a weed and a wheat sprout. What did the schoolchildren you taught learn from you? How did you command their respect?’ The professor told me that the peasants in the mountain area she had been sent to had been extremely good to her, and she had learned a great deal from their poverty-stricken lives. She felt that human nature was basically simple and unsophisticated, and that it was only when people were taught about society that they learned to meddle with it. There was truth in what she said, but she had been lucky in her experience of the Cultural Revolution.
Hua’er continued her story. ‘One day, my mother came home unusually late. Only my sister was still up. Dozing fitfully, I woke to hear my mother say to her, “Papa has been locked up. I don’t know where they’ve put him. From now on, I’ll have to go for special lessons every day, and may be back very late. I’ll take Shi with me, but you’ll have to look after Shan and Hua. Shu, you’re grown up now, believe what I tell you: Papa and I aren’t bad people. You must believe in us no matter what happens. We came here to China because we wanted more people to understand Japanese culture and help them to learn Japanese, not to do wrong . . . Help me look after your brother and sister. Pick wild plants on the way home from school and add them to the food when you cook. Coax your brother and sister to eat more; you’re all growing, you need to eat enough. Be sure to put the lid on the stove before going to bed so you won’t be poisoned by the coal gas. Shut the windows and doors properly when you leave the house, and be careful not to open the door to anyone. If the Red Guards come to search the house, take your brother and sister outside so that they aren’t scared. From now on, go to bed at the same time as your little brother and sister. Don’t wait up for me. If you need anything, write me a note, and I’ll leave a note for you the next morning before I go. Don’t stop studying Japanese language and culture. The knowledge will come in very useful some day. Study in secret, but don’t be afraid. Things will get better.”
‘My sister’s face was still, but two lines of tears trickled silently down her cheeks. I hid under the quilt and cried quietly. I didn’t want my mother to see me.’
Remembering how my brother had cried for our mother, I could not hold back my tears as I imagined the scene Hua’er described. Hua’er was sad, but dry-eyed.
‘For a very long time after that, we hardly ever saw my mother. My brother and I knew that our mother now slept in our room, but the only signs of her existence were the instructions and information she passed through Shu.
‘Later, I discovered that I could see my mother if I woke up to go to the toilet at night. I started drinking as much water as possible before going to bed. My mother never seemed to sleep: every time I got up, she reached out to stroke me. Her hands were getting rougher and rougher. I wanted to rub my face against them, but I was afraid my sister would say that I was disturbing my mother’s rest.
‘I became increasingly listless and tired in the daytime because I was getting up to see my mother several times a night. Once I even fell asleep while studying “the highest directives” of the Party in school. Luckily, my teacher was a very kind woman. After class, she took me to a hidden place near the sports ground and said, “Falling asleep while studying the highest directives of Chairman Mao is seen as very reactionary by the Red Guards. You’ve got to be more careful.”
‘I didn’t really understand what she meant, but I was frightened because my teacher’s husband was the leader of the local Red Guard faction. I hurriedly explained why I hadn’t been sleeping well. My teacher was silent for a long time, and I got even more anxious. Eventually, she patted my head affectionately, saying, “Don’t worry, maybe your mother will be able to come home earlier soon.”
‘Not long after, my mother did start coming home earlier. She would arrive just as we were getting ready for bed. We could tell that she had changed a lot: she seldom spoke, and moved about very quietly; she seemed afraid of disturbing our faith in her and in our father. My elder brother, who had a strong personality, couldn’t bear to argue with her now about going to Beijing to be one of Mao’s Red Guards. Slowly, life became more normal. One day I heard my mother say with a sigh, “If only your father could come back too . . .”
‘None of us could feel happy at the thought of seeing our father. We loved him, but if he were a secret agent we would still have to ignore him.
‘Some time later, in the autumn of 1969, my sister was told that she had to attend an evening study group, to enable her to take a firm stand after our father’s release, and draw a clear line between him and us.
‘My sister came back very late from the first evening of the study group. My mother waited anxiously by the window, unable to sit still. I could not sleep either, because I was eager to know what the study group was like. The Red Guards only admitted to the group people whose thinking was revolutionary. I knew that after some people had joined it, they were no longer interrogated, their homes were no longer searched, and the people in their family who had been imprisoned were released. Would our father be back soon?
‘My mother sent me to bed, and I rubbed my eyes repeatedly and put pen nibs on my pillow to keep myself from falling asleep. Finally, I heard footsteps and a man’s low voice outside the window, but I could not hear what he was saying. When my sister came into the room, my mother rushed to her and asked, “How was it?” Her voice was full of fear.
‘Shu lay down silently, fully clothed. When my mother tried to help her undress, my sister brushed her off, turned over and wrapped herself tightly in the quilt.
‘I was very disappointed. We had waited up so long for nothing.
‘That night, I heard my mother crying for a very long time. I fell asleep wondering if she was hurt by my sister’s silence, or if she was afraid that we didn’t love her. That night, I dreamed that I had got into the study group too, but as soon as I walked through the door to the class, I woke up.
‘Shu spent an unusually long time in the study group, and she never told me anything about it. For several months, she came home very late every evening, long after I had fallen asleep. One evening, she came back not long after she had left for the study group. The man who brought her back told us, “Shu keeps on being sick, and today she fainted. The political instructor made me see her home.”
‘My mother had turned chalk white, and stood rooted to the spot as my sister fell to her knees before her and said, “Mama, there was nothing I could do. I wanted Papa to be released sooner.”
‘My mother shuddered, and seemed about to collapse. My elder brother rushed to support her and made her sit down on the bed. Then he led my little brother and me into the other room. I did not want to go, but I did not dare to stay.
‘The next day, as I was leaving school, a man from the Red Guard faction was waiting for me. He told me that the political instructor had ordered me to join the study group. I hardly dared believe him. I was only eleven years old. How could I possibly go? Perhaps, I thought, the teacher had told them I was very obedient.
I was so happy I wanted to go home to tell my mother, but the man said that my mother had already been informed.
‘The class was in a smallish room furnished like a home, with beds, a dining table and several chairs similar to the ones at school, but bigger. There was also a big bookcase full of revolutionary works. Quotations of Chairman Mao and revolutionary slogans written in red were pasted on all four walls of the room. I had only just started my fourth year of primary school, so I could not understand all of them.
‘The Red Guard who had taken me there g
ave me a Little Red Book of quotations of Chairman Mao – I had always envied my sister hers – and asked, “Do you know that your parents are secret agents?”
‘I nodded, wide-eyed. I was afraid they would not allow me to take part in the study group after all.
‘“Do you know that everyone in the study group is a Red Guard?”
‘I nodded again. I wanted to be a Red Guard so much, so that people would not curse me any longer, and so that I could sit on the back of a lorry and go out into the street to shout slogans; all that power and prestige!
‘“So you mustn’t let the secret agents know about the Red Guards’ affairs, understand?” he said.
‘Thinking of the stories about the underground Party and secret agents I knew from films, I stammered, “I – I won’t tell my family.”
‘“Stand up now, and swear to Chairman Mao that you will keep the Red Guards’ secrets.”
‘“I swear!”
‘“Good. Now, first you will read Chairman Mao’s quotations alone. After we’ve eaten we’ll teach you how to study them.”
‘I was amazed to hear that I would be provided with food. No wonder, I thought, that my sister had never said anything about the study group. She had been sworn to secrecy, but she must also have been afraid that my little brother and I would be very envious at the mention of food. As these thoughts were going through my mind, I stared at the pages of my Little Red Book, not understanding a word.
‘After I had finished eating, two more Red Guards came in. Both of them were very young, only a little older than my sister. They asked me, “Have you made your promise to Chairman Mao?” I nodded, wondering why they asked.
‘“All right,” they said, “we’ll be studying until very late today, so you should rest for a while first.”
‘They took me in their arms and carried me to the bed, smiled at me and helped me unfold the quilt and undress, right down to the last piece of underclothing. They turned off the lights with a loud click of the switch.
‘No one had ever told me about what goes on between men and women, not even my mother. All I knew about the difference between men and women was that men’s trousers fastened in front, and women’s trousers at the side. So when three men started to fumble with my body in the dark, I had no idea what this meant, or what was going to happen next.
‘I felt very tired. For some reason, I could not keep my eyes open. In the confusion, I heard the men say, “This is your first lesson. We have to know if there are counter-revolutionary influences in your body.”
‘A hand pinched my undeveloped nipple and a voice said, “It’s small, but there must be a bud in there.”
‘Another hand spread my legs apart, and a different voice cut in, saying, “Counter-revolutionary things are always hidden in the most secret places of a person’s body, let’s have a look.”
‘A wave of terror like nothing I had felt before swept over me. I started shaking with fear, but a thought flashed through my mind: only good people were in the study group, they wouldn’t do bad things.
‘Then a man said, “Jun’er, this one’s for you. We brothers keep our word.”
‘I did not understand what they were talking about. By now, I had lost all control of my body. Later, when I was older, I realised they must have put sleeping pills in my food. Something thick and big stabbed my childish body as if it were going to pierce right through me. Countless pairs of hands rubbed my chest and bottom, and a foul tongue was stuffed into my mouth. There was urgent panting all around me and my body burned with pain as if I were being whipped.
‘I don’t know how long this hellish “lesson” lasted. I went completely numb.’
Hua’er’s face was deathly white. I had to bite my lip to stop my teeth from chattering. When I reached out a hand to her, she ignored it.
‘Finally, all the noise and movement stopped. I cried and cried.
‘In the dark, several voices said to me, “Hua’er, later on you’ll like it,” “Hua’er, you’re a good child, there is nothing evil about you. Your father will be let out very soon.”
‘I was passive as a rag doll as they bent and lifted my body to dress me.
‘One of them said very quietly, “Hua’er, I’m sorry.” I have always wanted to know who it was who said that.
‘Several of the Red Guards took turns to carry me on their backs in the piercing autumn wind. They put me down a long way from home, saying, “Don’t forget, you have sworn on Chairman Mao.”
‘I tried to take a step, but I couldn’t move. My lower body felt as if it had been ripped to shreds. One of them picked me up in his arms and carried me to the door of my home, then he and his companions slipped away quickly in the darkness. My mother opened the door when she heard their voices, and took me in her arms.
‘“What is it, Hua’er? Why are you back so late?” she asked.
‘My mind was empty: I did not think about my promise to Chairman Mao. All I could do was cry. My mother carried me to bed as I wept. Seeing me in the light of the lamps, she understood everything.
‘“Dear God!” she gasped.
‘My sister Shu shook me and asked, “Did you go to the study group?” but I just continued crying and crying. Yes, I had gone to the “study group”, a woman’s study group, a . . .’
Finally, Hua’er was crying. Her shoulders shook with weak, exhausted sobs. I put my arms around her, and felt her whole body shivering.
‘Hua’er, don’t say any more, you won’t be able to bear it,’ I said. My face was wet with tears, and the weeping of the girls from the study group at my brother’s school echoed in my ears.
It was noon, and a guard brought us some food. The two meals were completely different. I swapped my tray with Hua’er’s, but she barely glanced at it. Still sobbing, she continued, ‘I was so young. Despite the pain, I still managed to fall asleep to the sound of my mother and sister crying.
‘I woke with a start. My elder brother Shan was standing outside our door, shouting, “Help, somebody! My mother’s hanged herself!”
‘My sister Shu was wailing, “Mama, why have you abandoned us?”
‘My little brother Shi was clinging to something and crying. I got out of bed to look at what he was holding on to. It was my mother, hanging from the door lintel.’
Hua’er was gasping for breath. I rocked her in my arms, saying her name over and over again.
A few minutes later, I saw a slip of paper held up to the observation window. There was a message on it: ‘Please maintain a suitable distance from the prisoner.’
I swore silently and knocked for the warden to open the door. Leaving Hua’er in the interview room, I went to the prison governor’s office – Chief Constable Mei’s letter in hand – and insisted that Hua’er be allowed to stay in my room for two nights. After much hesitation, he agreed, on condition that I gave him a written undertaking absolving him from responsibility if something unexpected occurred while Hua’er was with me.
Back in the interview room, I found that Hua’er had cried all over the food before her. I took her back to my room, but she barely said a word for the next twenty-four hours. I thought she was probably fighting her way out of the depths of her pain, and dared not imagine that she had yet more tragic experiences to grapple with.
When Hua’er had the strength to speak again, she told me that her father was released four days after her mother committed suicide, but he did not recognise his children. Years later, someone told them that Hua’er’s father had lost his mind after being told that his beloved wife had taken her life. He had sat immobile in the same position for two nights running, asking, ‘Where is Youmei?’ over and over again.
Neither Hua’er nor her sister had ever dared to find out if their father had known about the ‘study group’, or if this knowledge had contributed to his breakdown. After his release, their father lived with them as if with strangers. In over twenty years, the only thing his children managed to teach him was that ‘Papa’ was their word
for him. No matter who uttered this word, in whatever place, he would respond to it.
Hua’er’s sister Shu never married. She had been taken home early from the study group that day because she was pregnant, and the men in the group had decreed that she could not continue ‘studying’. She was fifteen at the time, and her mother did not dare to take her to the hospital because the Red Guards would condemn her as a ‘capitalist’ and ‘a broken shoe’, and take her away to be paraded through the streets. Instead, her mother planned to look for a medicinal herb to induce an abortion. Before she could do this, Hua’er’s rape the next day pushed her over the edge.
Shu did not know what to do or who to turn to. Naively, she bound her swelling belly and breasts with strips of cloth, but to no avail. She did not know where to find the herb her mother had spoken of, but one day she remembered that her mother had once said that all medicine was three parts poison. She swallowed all the medicine in the house in one go, and collapsed at school, bleeding heavily. Although the hospital saved her life, the foetus died and her womb had to be removed. From then on, Shu was labelled a ‘bad woman’ and ‘a broken shoe’. As the years passed and motherhood beckoned for her contemporaries, Shu changed into a cold, taciturn woman, quite unlike the kind, happy girl she had been.
The day before I left West Hunan Women’s Prison, I interviewed Hua’er one last time.
A couple of years after Hua’er’s experience in the study group, she found a book in the school storeroom called Who Are You?, about female biology and Chinese notions of chastity. Only after reading it did she realise the full implications of what had happened to her.
Hua’er entered adulthood with a shaky sense of identity and self-worth. She had not experienced the dreams of a young girl who is just beginning to understand love; she had no hope of a wedding night. The voices and fumbling in the blackness of that study-group room haunted her. Despite this, she eventually married a kind and good man whom she loved. When they married, virginity on the wedding night was the gold standard by which women were judged, and the lack of it often led to a bitter parting of ways. Unlike other Chinese men, Hua’er’s husband had never had any suspicions about her virginity. He had believed her when she told him that her hymen had broken while she was playing sports.