He did. I wanted to go with him to appeal his case, but he told me to stay home and take care of the young ox. Mother took some pieces of jewelry out of a hole in the wall and gave them to me. Obviously, there were gaps in the land reform campaign, and she had managed to hold on to some valuables. Dad sold the jewelry for traveling money, then he went to see County Chief Chen, the man who had indirectly destroyed our donkey, and asked for the right to remain an independent farmer. Father argued his case forcefully. In terms of policy, Chen said, you’re free to farm independently. But I hope you choose not to. County Chief, Dad said, in the name of that black donkey of ours, I’d like you to issue me a guarantee that gives me the authority to farm on my own. Once I post that on my wall, no one will dare attack me. Ah, that black donkey… a good animal, the chief remarked emotionally. I owe you for what happened. I can’t give you the kind of pass you want, but I can give you a letter that explains your situation to the Farming Village Labor Bureau of the Provincial Party Committee. So Dad took the letter to the provincial capital, where he was received by the Labor Bureau head, who also tried to convince him to join the commune. Father refused. If Chairman Mao issues an order outlawing independent farming, I’ll join. If not, I won’t. Moved by Father’s intransigence, the Labor Bureau head wrote two lines at the bottom of the county chief’s letter: While it is our wish that all farmers join the People’s Communes and walk the path of collectivization, anyone who refuses to join is within his right to do so. Low-level organizations may not use coercive measures, especially illegal means, to force anyone to join a commune.
Father placed this letter, which was like an imperial edict, in a glass frame and hung it on his wall. He had returned from the provincial capital in high spirits. Now that Mother and Jinlong and Baofeng had joined the commune, only three-point-two acres of the original eight, which were completely surrounded by land belonging to the collective, remained for us to farm, a narrow strip of land like a levee trying to hold back an ocean. In accord with his wish to be independent, Father built a new room, walled it off from the other three, and opened a new door. He added a stove and a
Admittedly, there were many things we lacked, but we’d slowly add whatever we needed. Dad patted me on the head.
“Son, why in the world do you want to farm with me like this?”
Without a second thought, I replied:
“Looks like fun!”
14
Ximen Ox Angrily Confronts Wu Qiuxiang
Hong Taiyue Happily Praises Lan Jinlong
During the months of April and May 1965, while my father was making an appeal in the provincial capital, Jinlong and Baofeng joined the People’s Commune with my mother. On that day, a solemn ceremony was held in the Ximen estate compound. Hong Taiyue spoke from the steps of the main house. The chests of my mother, Jinlong, and Baofeng were decorated with large red paper flowers; a red cloth was tied to our iron plow. My brother, Jinlong, delivered an impassioned speech expressing his determination to hew to the path of socialism. He was normally not much of a talker, so everyone was taken by surprise. To be honest, it turned me off. I hid out in the ox shed, with my arms around your neck out of a fear that they’d come and take you away with them. Before setting out, Father had said to me: Son, be sure to take good care of our ox. We needn’t worry as long as we have him, because then we’ll be able to hold out as independent farmers. I gave him my word, you heard me. Remember? I said, Dad, go now and come back as soon as you can. If I’m here, the ox will be here. He rubbed the horns that had just started growing on your head and said: Ox, you do as he says. We won’t be able to harvest the wheat for another six weeks, so there won’t be enough for you to eat. Let him take you out where there’s wild grass, which will tide you over till we bring in the wheat. I saw tears in Mother’s eyes as she glanced our way from time to time. This wasn’t the path she’d wanted to take, but she had no choice. As for Jinlong, though he was only seventeen, he already had definite views of things, and the force of his words seemed to frighten Mother, at least a little. I could tell that her feelings for Father weren’t as strong as those she’d held for Ximen Nao. She married him because she had to. And her feelings for me weren’t as strong as those she held for Jinlong and Baofeng. Two different men’s seed. But I was still her son, and she worried about me, even if she didn’t want to. Mo Yan led a bunch of schoolboys in shouting slogans outside the ox shed:
A headstrong man, a headstrong boy, choosing to farm apart. Pulling an ox the size of an insect, pushing a wood-wheeled cart. Sooner or later you’ll have to join, and sooner is better than later to start…
Faced with that sort of harassment, my courage began to falter, but not my excitement. The scene before me was like a play in which I was cast as the number-two character. Yes, a negative character, but more important than the positive characters out there. I felt it was time to make an appearance. I needed to go onstage, for the sake of my father’s character and self-respect, but also to bear witness to my courage and, of course, for the sake of your ox-glory. So I led you out of the shed in plain view of everyone. I thought you might have stage fright, but you surprised me by your total absence of fear. Your halter was actually nothing more than a thin rope tied loosely around your neck. One tug, and you could have snapped it. If you hadn’t wanted to follow me, I couldn’t have done a thing about it. But you did, willingly, even happily All eyes were on us, so I raised my head and stuck out my chest to make myself look like someone they’d have to deal with. I couldn’t see what I looked like, but their laughter told me what a comical figure I must have cut, a little clown. Then you picked the wrong time to act up and bellow, the antic and the soft sound proving you were still a youngster. Then you got it into your head to charge the village leaders lined up in the doorway of the main house.
Who was there? Well, Hong Taiyue was there; so were Huang Tong and Yang Qi. Wu Qiuxiang was there too. She’d replaced Yang Guixiang as head of the Women’s Association. I pulled on the rope to keep you from charging. All I’d wanted to do was take you into the yard to show you off, to let them see how handsome and spirited an independent farmer’s ox can be. I wanted them to see that before long, you’d be the best-looking ox in Ximen Village. But you chose that moment to show how perverse you can be and, with hardly any effort, dragged me behind you like a monkey on a string. When you pulled a little harder, the rope parted. Standing there holding half a length of rope in my hand, I watched as you headed straight for the leading figures. I thought Hong Taiyue would be your primary target, either him or Huang Tong, so I was surprised to see you heading straight for Wu Qiuxiang. At the time that made no sense to me, but I understand now. She was wearing a purple jacket and blue pants; her hair was oiled, with a plastic hair clasp, a sort of come-hither butterfly effect. The crowd looked on slack-jawed as this startling scenario began to play out, and by the time anyone reacted, you’d already butted Wu Qiuxiang to the ground; not content with that, you kept butting her, wrenching shrieks of horror from her as she rolled on the ground. She clambered to her feet to get away, but you made sure that didn’t happen by ramming your head into her large hip as she waddled along, tilting from side to side; with a loud croak, she tumbled forward and landed at the feet of Huang Tong, who turned and ran, with you in hot pursuit. Jinlong sprang into action. He jumped onto your back – that’s how long his legs were – wrapped his arms around your neck, and held on for all he was worth. You kicked, you reared, you twisted, but you couldn’t throw him off. So then you ran madly around the yard, sending people fleeing for their lives, their panicky screams hanging in the air. Jinlong grabbed your ears and pinched your nose till he brought you under control. Then people rushed up and pinned you to the ground.
“Put a ring in his nose,” someone shouted, “then geld him, and hurry!”
I hit out with the rope in my hand, not caring who it landed on.
“Let my ox go!” I screamed. “You thugs, let him go!”
My brother Jinlong – brother, my eye!-was still on you, his face ashen, a dazed look in his eyes, his fingers stuck up your nostrils. I laid into him with my rope.
“You traitor!” I roared. “Take your hand away, take it away!”
My sister Baofeng ran up to stop me from beating her brother. Her face was bright red, and she was sobbing. I couldn’t tell whose side she was on.
My mother stood there like a block of wood and muttered:
