Ma Jian - Beijing Coma

He told me that forty people had already signed up to join his Democracy University. I warned him I couldn’t help organise his preliminary meeting because my cousin Kenneth and his wife had arrived in Beijing, and I had to show them around.

‘The spirit of the Square is dying,’ Mou Sen said. ‘It’s up to me to bring it back to life!’

‘I really don’t understand you. You resigned from the Headquarters because you thought we should withdraw from the Square. Now you’re urging everyone to stay here and join your university. Have you gone mad?’

‘I just have a gut feeling that if we don’t do something dramatic now, our movement will collapse,’ he said, gazing into the distance.

‘I think the best plan is to withdraw from the Square on 30 May, as Han Dan is suggesting, then continue our campaign back on the campuses.’

As I was about to walk away, he grabbed my shirt, stared at me unblinkingly and said, ‘Dai Wei, if either of us is arrested, we must be strong and refuse to surrender.’

‘Don’t be so melodramatic,’ I said, pushing him away.

Sister Gao spotted us and came over. ‘The people on the streets were very cold towards us on the march today,’ she said. ‘They didn’t cheer or clap, or offer us any food.’ Then she turned to me and said, ‘Dai Wei, there’s a press conference taking place on the Monument. Zhuzi’s looking for you.’

A refreshing drizzle fell from the night sky. Beijing residents were beginning to drift back to their homes. I wanted to find Tian Yi and ask her to go back to the flat with me, but I had no choice but to turn round and head for the Monument.

Han Dan was reading out a ten-point declaration. Yang Tao was standing next to him, holding up the megaphone. The journalists had stacked their tape recorders and microphones on the school desk in front of them.

‘We propose that the students withdraw from the Square on 30 May, bringing this stage of the movement to a close…’ Han Dan said. As soon as he’d delivered the declaration, he left before anyone had time to protest.

The Democracy Forum discussion that Old Fu began chairing in the broadcast station soon degenerated into an argument. Students and Beijing residents stormed into the tent, grabbed the microphone from the table and shouted their opposition to the proposed withdrawal. Old Fu ran away, fearing for his safety, leaving Chen Di and me to get rid of the intruders.

I searched for Tian Yi, and at last spotted her sitting by the trees near the Museum of Chinese History.

‘This is the first day of my twentieth year,’ she said, not looking up at me.

‘My cousin Kenneth and his wife arrived in Beijing today for their honeymoon. Will you help me show them the sights tomorrow? Your English is much better than mine. My mother wants us to go and see her tonight to discuss where we’ll take them.’ I caught a whiff of the scraps of discarded food rotting on the ground beneath the trees.

‘Seems like a strange place to spend one’s honeymoon. Don’t they know there’s a revolution going on here?’

‘Apparently they booked the holiday months ago and couldn’t change it. And anyway, neither of them has been to China before, so they’re very excited.’

‘Hey, did you see the National Opera Company’s orchestra?’ she said, as we headed for Changan Avenue.

‘No, where?’

‘They came here about an hour ago to show their support. They performed the final movement of Beethoven’s Eroica. Just there by the national flag.’

‘Was my mother with them?’

‘No, none of the choir came. Just the conductor and about thirty musicians.’

‘They played the Eroica, you said? I wonder what my father would make of that if he were alive…’

You want to search for the way out, but you can’t move. Your wet flesh envelops you like a dank pelt.

‘Looking back at the Beijing fashion trends of 1996, we’ve seen a big drift towards relaxed, casual clothing, with baggy shirts and short waistcoats…’ My mother switches off the radio then pulls out the syringe from my arm and lowers my hand onto the bed. Blood rushes to my fingertips. She places my right hand on my thigh and pushes me onto my side. She forgot to move my left hand out of the way, so my hip is now digging into it.

‘If only you could die in your sleep…’ she wheezes, wedging her knee behind my back. With all her might, she pulls me into a sitting position. When she’s confident I’m stable, she slowly rotates my head from side to side. It’s drooping down, so when it turns, the veins on my face become compressed and bulge out. But at least my blood is flowing smoothly through my back now.

Someone knocks on the door. My mother rests my head on the pillow. ‘Hello!’ she says, opening the front door. ‘You’re the first to arrive.’

‘Are you alone then, Auntie?’

‘What do you mean? There’s always the two of us in this flat.’

‘Of course. How thoughtless of me. I’m sorry. I came here straight from work. I thought I could help you out before the others arrive. Have one of these fruits I’ve brought you. They only grow in the south.’ It’s Mimi. She visited a few months ago. Perhaps Tian Yi told her to come today. She and my mother sit on the sofa.

A fly that has been trapped in this room for months buzzes around my head, then settles on my hair and lays eggs on my scalp.

‘Let me take a look at Dai Wei first,’ Mimi says, getting up and heading for my room.

There’s no sheet covering my naked body. My penis is resting on my thigh. She walks in and yelps.

‘Oh, I bet that frightened you!’ my mother says, rushing in and flinging a sheet over me. ‘I’m sorry. I forgot to cover him. I’ve just turned him over. He’s as thin as a rake, but he still weighs a ton. He needs to be turned over every day, like a leg of ham drying in the sun. Hold his arm, will you, and I’ll push him onto his stomach again.’

Mimi grasps my arm. I can feel her breath on my cheek. Her fingers are small and warm.

‘I turn him three times a day. Turn around, turn around… After Liberation, we were always singing: “ The poor of the world have had their lives turned around! ” But my life hasn’t turned round yet. See that bedsore on his shoulder. It was raw and infected for a year. It only healed over last winter.’

‘The lives of the government officials have turned around, though. They’ve made fortunes from all their corrupt profiteering. Do you want to give him a wash?’

‘I cleaned him this morning,’ my mother lies. ‘Does it smell in here? I’ve got used to it over the years.’

‘It smells like a… hospital,’ Mimi says tactfully.

They roll me onto my back again then shake my quilt and place it over me as they would a sheet over a corpse.

A news presenter’s voice drones from the television in the sitting room. ‘The family planning authorities’ policy of compelling all women who apply for birth permits to swallow an iodised oil capsule has been a great success. In the four years since the scheme was introduced, 17.7 million married women of childbearing age have taken the capsules…’

I suddenly remember how my cousin Dai Dongsheng pinned a Red Flag Watch Factory badge onto his lapel when he came to Beijing, hoping he could pass himself off as a city resident. I presume his mad wife is still pacing around their shack, threatening to take her case to the emperor.

‘He’s so thin now, he barely looks human,’ my mother says.

‘Go on, try some fruit, Auntie.’ Mimi doesn’t seem to be too disturbed by my condition.

The telephone rings. My mother picks up the receiver. ‘… Yes, all your old classmates will be here. No problem. Bring her along too. It would be nice to see you.’ She hangs up, cracks her knuckles and goes into the kitchen.