Anchee Min: Pearl of China

In a month, the river would rise a few inches. Water and sky would become one gray color. Toads, eels, earthworms, and leeches would be found everywhere. The dirt path would become sluggish. Bamboo would thrive. By the time summer arrived, it would cover the southern slopes of the hills.

My teeth were green from chewing milkweeds. I had just turned nine. It became harder to resist the urge to steal. I had been thinking about a boy who had visited us during the past Chinese New Year. He was a distant relative and seventeen years old. His name was San-bao. He was an apprentice working for the local blacksmith. What I really had been thinking about were the soy nuts San-bao had promised me. I wondered when he would deliver his gift.

My legs carried me to San-bao’s shop. I wished that I had nicer clothes. San-bao was surprised to see me. He wore a dirty apron and was bare-shouldered. He was a strong and cheerful man who had a horse’s jaw. I could see wormlike thick veins under his skin. Putting down his sledgehammer, he asked what had brought me to visit.

I couldn’t tell him the truth. I couldn’t say that I had come for the soy nuts. I said that I was just passing by. He smiled gleefully.

“Have you eaten?” he asked after a moment.

“No.” I was embarrassed for replying too quickly.

“What would you like me to get you?”

Before I could stop myself, my tongue went, “Soy nuts would be nice.”

“Oh, right, soy nuts.” He remembered his promise. He told me to wait and went inside the shop. When he came out, he said, “We’ll take a walk, and I’ll get you the soy nuts.”

As soon as San-bao paid for the soy nuts, I reached for the bag.

“No, not yet.” San-bao took it away. “I don’t want the beggar children to jump on you. We must find a quiet place to sit.”

I followed San-bao. We arrived at the back of the old churchyard where the weeds were waist-high. Black crows shot into the sky. Field mice ran through the wild berry bushes. We sat down. San-bao watched me eating the soy nuts. As soon as I finished, he put his arm around my shoulders.

“I am good to you, aren’t I?” he asked.

I nodded, feeling a little awkward.

“Do me a favor,” he said, pulling my hand over and placing it on top of his crotch.

I was shocked.

“You don’t have to be so serious.” He grinned.

“I’m going home, San-bao.”

“Come on, Willow.”

“No, San-bao.”

“You owe me.” He dropped his smile and his voice turned cold.

I was frightened. I got up and ran, but he caught me.

“You really believe that I’d let a cooked duck fly away?” He pushed me down.

I struggled to free myself.

He held my neck and twisted my head to the side. “I paid for your soy nuts.”

“I’ll give you the money back!”

“You have no money.”

“I’ll find a way.”

“I want it right now!”

“I don’t have it.”

“Yes, you do. You have something I like. All you have to do is to let me touch it…” He reached inside my clothes.

“San-bao, please!”

“ Willow, give me no trouble.”

“Let me go!”

“Don’t make me hurt you.”

“No!”

“You bitch!”

“No!”

He pressed my face down to stop me from screaming.

I fought and kicked, but he was too strong.

My clothes were ripped.

I begged him to stop.

Refusing, he forced himself onto me.

Losing strength, I broke down. There was no way I could escape. I regretted my foolishness.

It was when San-bao pushed my face to the side that I saw a shadow. There was a figure hiding behind a stone tablet.

A familiar black knitted cap revealed who it was.

“Help!” I screamed.

Before San-bao could react, Pearl ran up. She struck San-bao with a big rock.

Instantly, San-bao fell over and was still.

“Oh, my God.” Pearl stepped back. “Did I kill him?”

I gasped getting up.

Pearl bent down and put a finger under San-bao’s nose.

“He’s not dead!” Pearl said. “Should I hit him more?”

“No, no more!” San-bao pleaded, trying to raise himself.

“You deserve to die!” I yelled.

Pearl picked up the rock again.

“No!” San-bao rose and ran.

Pearl chased him until he disappeared.

Gratitude filled my chest.

Pearl came back and brushed the dirt off my clothes.

“Thank you for the rescue, my friend,” I uttered.

“Who is your friend?” She turned away. “Liar!”

“Please forgive me, Pearl. I’ll do anything to make it up to you.”

“Do you expect me to trust you?” She looked at me, disgusted. “You took my father’s wallet and spent his money; you stole Wang Ah-ma’s pancakes and lied to my mother… You little donkey ass!” You little donkey She walked down the hill, swinging her basket.

I tried to hold back my tears.

She sang a Chinese song that I knew well. The hills echoed. The colorful wild flowers in her basket bounced under the bright sunshine.

Jasmine flower, sweet jasmine flower

Your beauty and fragrance is the best among the spring

I’d like to pick you and wear you in my hair

But I fear that you would be upset and wouldn’t come back the next year

Noises filled the Sunday church. Men exchanged opinions on the weather and methods for pest control. Women knitted, mended, embroidered, and chatted. Someone shouted across the room. Children threw pine nuts at each other. Mothers nursed their infants and yelled at their elder children. Absalom was unable to quiet the crowd until Papa rang a merchant’s bell.

“Folks, the Western monk needs our help,” Papa said with raised voice. “In my opinion, Absalom offers not an alternative but a better deal. Look, we have fed our gods and they are fat and happy. But what have they done for us? Nothing. Now, folks, I’d like you to take a hard look at Absalom’s God, Jesus Christ. Just look at his appearance. Anyone who is not blind can tell that he works harder than the Chinese gods. So listen, folks, listen to Absalom.”

Absalom picked up the opportunity. “Today we shall learn about the Baptism of Christ.” He pulled out his color drawing and pointed. “The two men are Lord Christ and John.”

I saw two figures standing in a river performing a ceremony. John and Christ had almost oriental features, with smaller noses and slightly slanted eyes. Absalom had finally taken Papa’s advice. He had smoothed the deep-set Western eyes and flattened their pointed noses. Christ now had longer earlobes, resembling Buddha’s.

Papa told me that Absalom at first had insisted on presenting a fully bearded Christ. It wasn’t until Papa proved to him that no Chinese would worship a god that looked like a monkey that he agreed to trim the beard.

“Buddha’s face changed as he traveled from India to China.” Papa pointed out to Absalom the difference between the early India Buddha and the later Chinese Buddha. Buddha’s eyes grew smaller as he arrived in China, his skin lighter and smoother. The Chinese sculptors made sure that Buddha appeared well fed. With his eyes half closed, Buddha looks like he is about to nap after a satisfying meal.

When Absalom baptized Papa, it was a big day for the town. Everyone wanted to see Papa being dipped in the river like a pot sticker in soy sauce. It was the first time Pearl and I sat together. We both had been trying to help our fathers draw a crowd.

Absalom and Papa stood face-to-face in the river with water up to their waists. Absalom was in his dark gray robe, while Papa wore his washed white cotton gown. Papa was red-faced and looked nervous, while Absalom was serious and solemn.

Speaking his heavily accented Chinese, Absalom explained, “Descending into the waters implies a confession of guilt and a plea for forgiveness.”