Su Tong - The Boat to Redemption

Huixian stared at the three pens in the pocket of his tunic and counted out loud, ‘One, two, three,’ bringing smiles to the adults’ faces.

‘She’s a lovable little thing,’ someone said. ‘See, even Secretary Zhao likes her.’

Sun Ximing pushed Huixian’s finger down. ‘Stop counting and say something,’ he urged her. ‘Call him Secretary Zhao.’

Huixian hesitated for a moment. ‘Uncle Zhao,’ she said.

People rushed to correct her: ‘Not Uncle Zhao, Secretary Zhao.’ But Zhao waved them off. ‘She’s just a child,’ he said. ‘Why not Uncle Zhao? Like any good girl, she hasn’t learned the art of flattery.’ That quietened the people, who waited to see what Secretary Zhao would do next. Not much, it seemed, since he casually tossed a shovelful of dirt out of the trench. Seeing their leader go back to work, the other officials did the same, leaving no room for Sun Ximing and Huixian to stand.

Pulling the girl to one side, Sun said, ‘What are you going to do, Secretary Zhao? Where should we take her?’

With a display of indifference, Zhao cast a glance at Sun and said, ‘She’s a clever little thing. And so cute. Where were you planning to take her? I think whoever wants a little girl aboard should have her.’

That was worse than doing nothing at all. Sun cast a pleading look at the people up on the ground. ‘You can’t just kick the ball to somebody else, Secretary Zhao,’ Six-Fingers said. ‘Raising a child isn’t like keeping a dog or a cat. She needs to be fed and she needs registering with a household.’

But it was Desheng’s wife who came up with the cleverest response. ‘We can take her on board and make things easy for the leadership, but not the way you say. If we do it your way, she’ll be a blacklisted element, which isn’t fair. People will assume we took her from someone, and that isn’t fair either. What we need is for you to come up with a fair arrangement and give it to us in writing.’

Zhao Chuntang threw down his shovel with a sneer, his face darkening. He walked up to Sun Ximing, obviously wanting nothing more to do with us, and Sun was his chosen target. ‘Sun Ximing, do you know why you’ve never been accepted into the Party? It’s because you’ve got a pig brain. What kind of leadership have you given to your fleet, a bunch of undisciplined backsliders who have no political consciousness or cultivation? You want me to arrange things and put them in writing when I’m so busy I can’t even catch my breath? You want me to make arrangements for the child, but my superiors want me to advance East Wind No. 8. I ask you, which is more important? You tell me. Put it in writing, you say. What leadership role do you play? County Party Committee, local Party Committee? Or maybe the Central Committee in Beijing!’

What could Sun say? The delegation was no help at all. One of the officials came up to Zhao Chuntang to defuse the situation, while another railed at the people above them. ‘What kind of political consciousness is this? What qualities are you displaying? Don’t you have any idea what times these are? A mass campaign will begin any day now, and you’re only making things worse with the issue of this child.’

‘We’re not here to cause trouble,’ Desheng’s wife said timidly. ‘She’s just a little girl. With all you officials down there, you’d think that one of you could come up and make things right for her. Isn’t a little girl as important as a shovel?’

Zhao gave Desheng’s wife a withering look. ‘You’re quite a talker,’ he said, ‘but you listen to me. During these critical times, everything must take a back seat to East Wind No. 8, and that includes this little girl. One shovelful of dirt is more important than any single child!’

Zhao had made his decision, and all we could do was exchange troubled looks. Answering back was out of the question, and no one knew what to do. We could only stand there and watch Sun unwillingly lift the girl out of the trench. Back above ground, he turned and cast a hard look down at the officials, who were engaged in whispered conversations. Four-Eyes Zhang muttered something to Zhao Chuntang before saying, with a wave of his hand, ‘Go on, get out of here!’ That got Sun Ximing’s dander up; he was in no mood to leave. He’d rather wait.

Finally Zhao spoke again. ‘Sun Ximing, go and see Director Yao at the grain distribution station and get five jin of rice. Then you and the others can take the child back to your barges. We can hang her out there for the time being, and work out something more permanent when we’re not so busy.’

Sun froze, his face turning red. ‘Five jin of rice? What do you take us for, Secretary Zhao, beggars?’ His bull-headed nature took over, sparked by disappointment and fierce opposition. ‘Hang her out?’ he shouted down into the trench. ‘What does that mean? A little girl can’t be that much trouble. If the authorities won’t take care of her, we will! And you can feed your chickens with those five jin of rice! We don’t need your generosity ! The eleven barges of the Sunnyside Fleet can manage to look after one little girl!’

IF THIS were a literary narrative, I’d have to admit that the opening bears some resemblance to a farce, albeit one that can only sadden the reader. The Sunnyside Fleet had sent a delegation ashore, who were forced to take the long way round, with all its twists and turns, just so that they could talk till they were blue in the face; in the end, curses and flying fists accomplished nothing, and my pen proved useless. Even by pulling together, we had no luck in finding a taker for the little girl. Desheng hoisted her up on his shoulders again and returned wearily to the boats.

At the time, I recall, Six-Fingers Wang’s daughters were rinsing out sweaters on the riverbank, and when they spotted Huixian riding high upon Desheng’s shoulders, they left their work and rushed up to greet us. ‘Dad,’ they said to Six-Fingers, ‘we thought you were going to leave her there. Why are you bringing her back?’

Six-Fingers covered his face with his hands so his daughters could not see his pained look. Then he growled a response: ‘Leave her where? Nowhere! No one was willing to take her, so she’s been “hung out” here with the fleet!’

Having grown up in and around the General Affairs Building, I’d heard Father use the term ‘hung out’ and knew that it implied danger. It was often used as a way to deal with a problem, usually associated with leading officials. So-and-so has been ‘hung out’, they’d say, meaning that that individual’s future looked bleak. But hanging out a little girl made no sense. I couldn’t tell if it was a prudent use of the word or a means of avoiding responsibility.

Huixian’s status improved upon her return, and the boat people’s attitude towards her underwent a modest change. Now that she’d been hung out with the Sunnyside Fleet, we assumed a new responsibility, though there was no talk of whose responsibility it would be.

Huixian also changed. Taken ashore twice, only to be returned each time, she must have known she’d been rejected by the people there, that she wasn’t welcome, and that her fate rested with the fleet. She proved to be quick and very smart, realizing that the barge people expected her to do as they asked, so she smoothed out the rough edges of her attitude overnight, abandoning her wilful behaviour. On the afternoon she returned from town I saw that she had wound a silk thread around her fingers as she stood on the bow of barge number one, looking for someone to play a game with. Spotting Yingtao, she crossed to her barge and said, ‘Big Sister, would you like me to teach you how to do cat’s cradle?’