Yan Lianke - Lenin's Kisses

For instance, if people wanted to open a road, build a bridge over the creek running through the bottom of the gorge, build a reservoir, or clean out the village well after leaves, branches, or a child’s hat or shoe had fallen in — or after someone jumped into the well himself in a moment of despair, thereby contaminating the water and making it necessary to dredge the well and scrub its inner walls — Grandma Mao Zhi would take responsibility for handling these things, since there was no one else in the village who could.

And, of course, there was also the annual livening festival.

But this famine year the festival ended up being organized by Chief Liu himself. Even without Grandma Mao Zhi, Liven was still a bustling community. When Chief Liu left Grandma Mao Zhi’s house, he had been in Liven for nine days. On four of those days there had been good weather, and many people had already begun planting corn in the pockmarked fields, but because both the slope and the flat fields had absorbed so much water, it was advisable to let them dry out for several more days before planting. As for the grain funds that had been brought in from the county seat, Secretary Shi would have to return with the survey and some cash before nightfall. Of course, it was necessary to hold the livening festival now, in order to distribute the grain funds to the people. The government looks after its people, and the people should remember the government’s kindness; this is the way things had been for thousands of years.

In the end, Grandma Mao Zhi did not show up to organize the livening festival. But actually, Chief Liu had not even really asked her to host it, since he was afraid that if she did show up, she might say and do things that would confuse everyone. For better or worse, however, she was seventy-one years old, and a survivor of the events around the bingzi year, 1936, and the only villager who had been to Yan’an. The higher-ups regarded her as a member of the older generation who had participated in the Revolution, and therefore someone who must be respected. Chief Liu consequently had no choice but to go and speak to her. Though how could she imagine that he wouldn’t be able to host a tiny livening festival without her help?

What a joke!

After visiting Grandma Mao Zhi’s house, Chief Liu went straight to the old honey locust tree in the center of the village to ring the bell. The sun was directly overhead, and a group of cripples had gathered in the clearing near the tree to have lunch. Among them were an old carpenter and several younger men. Apart from one man who was missing a leg, the others had never used crutches. Holding their rice bowls, they stood up to greet Chief Liu. They lifted bowls and asked with a smile, “County Chief, have you eaten yet?”

Chief Liu replied, “I have. And you?”

The cripples said, “We just finished. Why don’t you come to our house to have a few bites.”

Chief Liu replied, “No, thank you,” then asked, “Would you like to take part in a livening festival?”

The young cripples’ faces started glowing, and they said, “Yes, of course. Who wouldn’t? We’ve all been waiting for Grandma Mao Zhi to host one.”

Chief Liu stared at them. “So, if she doesn’t host it, you won’t participate?”

A young cripple asked, “If she doesn’t host it, then who will?”

Chief Liu said, “I will.”

The young cripple said, “The county chief certainly has a sense of humor!”

Chief Liu said, “I’m serious. I’ll host it.”

The cripples stared at him in astonishment. After studying him carefully and seeing that he wasn’t joking, they all turned away. The older cripple looked off into the distance while eating his lunch, and said,

“Chief Liu, there are one hundred and ninety-seven of us here in Liven, of which there are thirty-five blind people, forty-seven deaf people, and thirty-three cripples, together with several dozen more who are missing an arm or a finger, have an extra finger, stunted growth, or some other handicap. Does the county chief want to see us make a spectacle of ourselves?”

Chief Liu turned slightly pale. He replied to the older cripple, “I know you are a carpenter, and can carve with lightning speed. I certainly don’t want to see you make a spectacle of yourself. I am your parental official, and therefore am in effect your parent. All eight hundred and ten thousand inhabitants of the county are my virtual children, and I need to look after what they eat and wear. After your midsummer blizzard, I was here the next day with rescue funds and grain. Therefore, tomorrow I want to organize a livening festival, at which I will personally give each of you a ration of funds and grain. If you attend the festival, you will receive grain and money, quite possibly more than you would normally receive in a normal year. If you don’t attend, however, you won’t receive anything.”

Everyone stared at him.

Chief Liu walked away.

He left before they were able to see anything in his face. In this village, there was only this one road, which was also a street. The sun shone down furiously, and even the chickens and pigs tried to hide in the shadow of the wall. The county chief was muscular but rather short and fat, and his shadow was only half as long as he was tall. This black shadow followed behind him like a silent ball. He was wearing a pair of leather sandals that slapped loudly on the ground, and he walked very briskly without looking back, as if he were angry.

In front of him, the village’s oxcart wheel bell was hanging from the honey locust tree. The tree was as thick as a man’s waist, and at the height of a person’s head there was a branch as wide as a plate, from which the bell was hanging. Because the villagers were afraid the wire holding up the bell might cut into the tree branch, they had padded it with rubber shoe soles. Chief Liu saw not only the bell, but also the rubber padding. The old honey locust tree gave off a scent of fresh sprouts, while the rubber padding emitted a mildewed smell. The bell, rubber tire, and metal wire all emitted a sharp oxidized odor. Needless to say, the bell had not been used for several years, the last time anyone rang it having perhaps been before the land redistribution campaign of the wuwu Year of the Horse, 1978. When other villages wanted to hold an occasional meeting, they would ring a bell to call the meeting to order if they didn’t have a horn to blow. In Liven and the surrounding county and township, however, everyone remembers the meeting times, and it is very unusual for anyone to sound the bell.

But it was evident that Chief Liu intended to ring the bell himself, thereby once again using it to summon everyone together. He had walked over to where the bell was hanging, and was about to look for the brick used to strike it, when One-Legged Monkey, who had been eating with the older cripple, suddenly grabbed his crutches and hobbled up behind him.

“Chief Liu,” he shouted, his face turning scarlet.

Chief Liu turned around.

“You don’t need to strike the bell. I’ll go door-to-door notifying everyone for you. In the past, whenever there was an event of some sort, this is what Grandma Mao Zhi would always have me do.” Having said this, he grabbed his crutches and headed off in the direction of the blind area of the village. He walked very briskly, his right crutch lightly touching the ground as his left foot left the ground, and as he was waiting for his left foot to come back down again, he would lean into his right leg. He wasn’t walking as much as he was hopping, but in this way was able to proceed as fast as a wholer could. In no time, he arrived at a blind man’s house, and entered through the main gate.

Chief Liu was right behind him, staring in astonishment at his hop-running, as if he were watching a deer or a small horse galloping along a mountain pass.