Life and Death are Wearing Me Out

in circles, rubbing his hands anxiously. What can I do? he asked. How can I help you? – Take me to the county hospital, hurry. My master unloaded the bags of salt I was carrying, took off his padded coat and tied it across my back, and helped the woman get on. Hold on, Comrade, he said. She grabbed my mane and moaned some more as my master took my reins in one hand and held on to the woman with the other. – Okay, Blackie, let’s go. I took off, for I was a very excited donkey. I’d carried plenty of things on my back – salt, cotton, crops, fabric – but never a woman, and I danced a little jig, toppling the woman onto my master’s shoulder. Steady, Blackie! my master ordered. I got the idea. Blackie got the idea. So I started trotting, taking care to keep my gait smooth and steady, like flowing water or drifting clouds, something a donkey does best. A horse can only be smooth and steady when it gallops, but if a donkey gallops instead of trots, it makes for a bumpy ride. I sensed that this was a solemn, even sacred, mission. It was also stimulating, and at that time I felt myself existing somewhere between the realms of man and beast. I felt a warm liquid soaking into the jacket under her and onto my back, also felt sweat from the woman’s hair dripping onto my neck. We were only a couple of miles from the county town, on the road leading straight to it. Weeds on both sides of us were knee-high; a panicky rabbit ran out of the weeds and right into my leg. Well, we made it into town and went straight to the People’s Hospital. Back in those days, hospital personnel were caring people. My master stood in the hospital entrance and shouted: Somebody, come help this woman! I brayed to help out. A bunch of men and women in white smocks came running out and carried the woman inside, but not before I heard waa-waa sounds emerge from between her legs as she was taken off my back. On our way back home, my master was in obvious low spirits, grumbling over the sight of his wet, dirty padded coat. I knew he was superstitious and believed that the excretions of a woman in labor were not only dirty, they were unlucky. So when we reached the spot where we’d encountered the woman, he frowned, his face darkened, and he said, What does all this mean, Blackie? This was a new coat. What am I going to tell my wife?

Hee-haw, hee-haw – I gloated, happy to see him facing a dilemma. – Is that a smile, Blackie? He untied the rope and, with three fingers, lifted the coat off of my back. It was… well, you know. He cocked his head, held his breath, and flung the water-soaked and very heavy jacket as if it were made of dog skin, watching it sail into the weeds like a big, strange bird. The rope also had bloodstains, but since he needed it to tie down the sacks of salt, he couldn’t throw it away, so he dropped it on the ground and rolled it around in the dirt with his foot until it changed color. Now all he was wearing was a thin jacket with several missing buttons; his chest turned purple from the cold, and with his blue face, he looked like one of Lord Yama’s little attendants. He bent down, scooped up two handfuls of dirt, and rubbed it on my back, then brushed it off with some weeds he plucked from the side of the road. Blackie, he said, you and I performed an act of charity, didn’t we? Hee-haw, hee-haw – He stacked the sacks of salt on my back and tied them down. Then he looked over at the bicycle in the weeds. Blackie, he said, as I see it, this bicycle ought to belong to me now. It cost me a coat and a lot of time. But if I covet something like this, I’ll give up the credits I earned from that act of charity, won’t I? Hee-haw, hee-haw – All right, then, let’s take this good deed as far as it’ll go, like seeing a guest all the way home. So he pushed the bicycle and drove me – actually, there was no need to do that – all the way back to the country town and up to the hospital entrance, where he stopped and shouted, You in there, the woman in labor, I’m leaving your bicycle here at the entrance! Hee-haw, hee- haw- More people ran out. – Okay, Blackie, let’s get out of here. He smacked me on the rump with my reins. Let’s go, Blackie…

Yingchun’s hands were coated with flour when she came out. Her eyes lit up when she saw the beautiful little girl in the arms of Wang Leyun. She reached over.

“Pretty baby,” she mumbled. “Pretty baby, so cute, so pudgy…”

Wang Leyun handed the baby to Yingchun, who cradled it in her arms, lowered her head, and smelled and kissed her face.

“She smells wonderful,” she said, “just wonderful…”

Waa-waa. The baby wasn’t used to all that fuss.

“Hand her back to the comrade,” Lan Lian demanded. “Just look at you, more wolf than human. What baby wouldn’t be scared to death?”

“That’s all right, no harm done,” Wang Leyun said as she took the baby back and got her to stop crying.

Yingchun tried to rub the flour off her hands.

“I’m terribly sorry,” she apologized. “Look how I dirtied her clothes.”

“We’re all farmers,” Pang Hu said. “No need to worry. We came, today especially to thank you. I hate to think what might have happened if not for you.”

“You not only took me to the hospital, you even made a second trip to return my bicycle,” Wang Leyun said emotionally. “The doctors and nurses all said you couldn’t find a more honest man than Lan Lian if you went searching with a lantern.”

“I’ve got a good donkey,” Lan Lian said to hide his embarrassment. “He’s fast and steady.”

“Yes, you’re right, he is a good donkey,” Pang Hu said with a little laugh. “And famous to boot. A famous donkey!”

Hee-haw, hee-haw -

“Say, he understands us,” Wang Leyun said.

“Old Lan,” Pang Hu said as he reached into a bag he was carrying, “if I were to try to reward you, that would demean you and spoil a budding friendship.” He took out a cigarette lighter and lit it. “I took this from one of the American devils. I’d like you to have it as a little memento.” Then he took out a little brass bell. “This I asked someone to get for me at a secondhand market. It’s for your donkey.”

The war hero walked up to me and draped the bell over my neck.

“You’re a hero, too,” he said as he patted me on the head. “This is your medal.”

I shook my head, so moved I felt like crying. Hee-haw, hee-haw – The bell rang out crisply.

Wang Leyun took out a bag of candy and parceled it out among the children, including the Huang twins. “Are you in school?” Pang Hu asked Jinlong. Jiefang jumped in before Jinlong could reply. “No.” “You need to go to school, that’s something you have to do. Young people are the future red leaders in our new society, our new nation, and they mustn’t be illiterate.” “Our family hasn’t joined the co-op, we’re independent farmers. My father won’t let us go to school.” “What? An independent farmer? How can an enlightened man like you be independent? Is this true? Lan Lian, is it?”

“It’s true!” The resounding answer came from the gateway. We turned to see who it was – Hong Taiyue, the village chief, Party secretary, and head of the local co-op. Dressed the same as always, he seemed more gaunt than ever, and more alert. He strode into the compound, all skin and bones, offered his hand to the war hero, and said, “Director Pang, Comrade Wang, happy New Year!”

“Yes, happy New Year!” The crowd surged in, spreading New Year’s greetings, but none of the old forms. No, they were new phrases to fit all the great changes; here I give only that one example.

“Director Pang, we’re here to talk about setting up an advanced co-op, combining the smaller co-ops in neighboring villages into one big one,” Hong Taiyue said. “You’re a war hero, how about a talk?”

“I haven’t prepared anything,” Pang said. “I came specifically to thank Comrade Lan for saving the lives of my wife and child.”

“You don’t need to prepare anything, just speak to us. Tell us about your acts of heroism, we’d love to hear that.” Hong Taiyue began clapping his hands, and in no time applause was sweeping over the compound.

“All right,” Pang said as he was carried by the crowd over beneath the apricot tree, where someone placed a chair. “Just an informal chat.” Choosing not to sit, he stood before the crowd and spoke in a loud voice: “Ximen Village comrades, happy New Year! This year’s New Year’s is a good one, next year’s will be even better, and that is because, under the leadership of the Communist Party and Comrade Mao Zedong, our liberated peasants have taken the path of agricultural co-ops. It is a great golden highway, broadening with each step!”

“But there are some people who stubbornly tread the path of individual farming and prefer to compete with our co-ops,” Hong Taiyue interjected, “and who refuse even to admit defeat!”

Everyone’s eyes were on my master, who looked down at the ground and fiddled with the cigarette lighter the war hero had given him. Click – flame – click – flame – click – flame – His wife nudged him to stop. He glared at her. “Go in the house!”

“Lan Lian is an enlightened comrade,” Pang Hu said, raising his voice. “He led his donkey in courageously taking