Anchee Min: Pearl of China

The Red Guard located Absalom’s grave near Chin-kiang and vandalized it. They smashed the stone-carving tablet honoring Absalom’s lifelong service to God. The Red Guard also sought Carie’s grave. It was Lilac who removed the tombstone to a different location. The grave the Red Guard destroyed was not Carie’s.

Lilac’s sons were ordered to change names. Double Luck David and John were now Down with Christ and War on God. Triple Luck Solomon’s new name was Mao’s Loyalist.

When the Red Guard ordered Bumpkin Emperor and his sworn brothers to smash a ceramic figure of Christ, the former warlords exploded. They took the anti-Christ boards off their necks and smashed them instead. When they were locked up, they escaped into the mountains.

Papa took the risk of protecting Absalom’s hand-drawn pictures of Jesus Christ. He hid them behind the wall-sized portrait of Mao. When Carpenter Chan and his workmen learned that the Red Guard had decided to burn the church, they transformed the church into an “Education Museum” in which Mao’s head was painted on every surface. The sculptures of Christ and the saints were boxed and caged and captioned “The Negative Teachers.” The boxes were put on display for criticism. To prevent the sculptures from being defiled, the workmen wrapped them in red ribbons with slogans like “Long Live Chairman Mao!” and “Salute to Madame Mao!” written on them.

What pained Papa the most was when members withdrew from the congregation. Although Papa understood that people did it under pressure and out of fear, he couldn’t help feeling defeated. He threatened people with “going to hell,” although he was appalled by their response: “Hell will be a better place than where we are.”

For years Chin-kiang was considered an area severely infected by a “Christian plague.” It was decided that the town needed a deep cleaning. Although Vanguard set himself as an example for denouncing Christianity, few followed him. People called Vanguard “the Chin-kiang Judas.” The police discovered that Bibles were hidden inside the covers of Mao’s books and clay figures of Christ were hidden inside rice bags. Christmas songs were heard during the Chinese New Year, and flowers by Carie’s grave never failed to blossom in spring. Children who woke up in the middle of the night to relieve themselves would find themselves tripping over their parents, on their knees praying in the dark. Despite his age, Papa made his rounds rain or shine when there was no place safe to worship God.

Age finally took its toll on Papa. He collapsed one day as he went from house to house, visiting members of his congregation. Rouge and I rushed to his side. When he woke up, he told me that he had met Absalom.

“Old Teacher still rode his donkey,” Papa said.

“Did you ask him if he was pleased with your work?” I asked, teasing.

“I did.”

“What was the reply?” Rouge was curious.

Papa took a few deep breaths before he answered, “Absalom cried, which was rather out of character. It was about Pearl.”

“Pearl?”

“Absalom regretted that he never got the time to be a good father to Pearl.”

“What was your response?” both Rouge and I asked.

“I told him that he should be proud, because she carried on his work-that we all heard her on Voice of America.”

A week later, Papa stopped breathing. Like a ripe melon, Papa hung happily on his vine before dropping to the ground. He went to sit under the tree outside the converted church building and looked like he had just fallen asleep with his chin on his chest.

Overnight, the “Down with American Imperialists” slogans were replaced with “Welcome American President Nixon.” Mannequins dressed in U.S. Army uniforms for military bayonet practice at schools nationwide were removed. Children were instructed to learn the English phrases “Welcome” and “How do you do?”

The day Nixon arrived in China, children filled the streets from the airport to the hotel where the president would stay. Each child was given paper flowers and instructed to smile with their teeth showing.

Carpenter Chan received an urgent dispatch that Nixon was to visit Chin-kiang, and that Pearl Buck was with him.

The town vibrated with anticipation.

I so wished that Papa could have lived to see this day. It would have thrilled him to greet the American president-but even more, the daughter of his beloved Absalom.

The guerrilla-church members counted the hours and then the minutes. In the morning, state police came to secure the town. Everyone was ordered to stay inside until called. While the men exchanged news and information, the women began to prepare Pearl’s favorite foods. Every family contributed. We soaked rice and soybeans, steamed bread and yams, and brought out all the pickled radishes and dried meats, which were usually saved for New Year’s. The sound of chopping vegetables lasted all day, and the smell of roasting garlic peanuts filled the air. “Pearl will smell our cooking miles away when she arrives,” Lilac said.

When I heard the sound of drums and the music of China’s national anthem, I knew the American guests were here. I rinsed my hands, combed my hair, and slipped on my blue Mao jacket. Rouge wanted to join me but her boss wouldn’t give her permission. As Dick’s daughter, she was ill-treated.

I was nervous and tense. My doubts had grown when my friend’s face had failed to appear in newspapers. There were photos of Mao and Nixon shaking hands. And Madame Mao, her big, wide mouth smiling like a white sailboat. But no Pearl. Was I foolish to believe that she would be allowed to come?

“Is Pearl with Nixon or isn’t she?” I kept asking Carpenter Chan.

“I don’t know” was Chan’s reply.

I had been more than living for this moment. To me, it was as if my life depended on it. Now I was afraid. I imagined what Madame Mao might have done to keep Pearl out of China. Dick’s fate reminded me not to underestimate her power.

Yet I couldn’t stop hoping. I rose before dawn to climb the rolling hills. When I reached the top of a favorite hill where Pearl and I used to play, I lay on the grass and closed my eyes. The scent of jasmine drifted from below and brought back memories. I could see my friend’s clear blue eyes. She looked at me without speaking.

My tears welled up at the thought that we would be like two strangers. She might not even recognize me. Maybe she had simply forgotten me. But no, another voice spoke inside my head. “You will always be able to recognize each other.” We would pick up where we had left off. I would satisfy her every curiosity about China.

“Tell me how you followed Dick and what happened,” my friend would say. She knew that Dick had been Mao’s right-hand man.

Or maybe Pearl would not ask. She was not the kind to presume. She would have heard about Mao’s persecutions and would have wondered about Dick’s fate. In comparison to Hsu Chih-mo, Dick was hot in temper and strong in character. Although he had tried to ride the tiger, he was too honest for Mao. He didn’t even know when he had off ended Mao. The people of Chin-kiang thought that Dick deserved his tragic ending because he had followed Mao. Papa and Carpenter Chan had never understood Dick. His rejection of Christianity made him suspect to both men. But Dick was against all religions. Like Mao, Dick claimed himself godless. But he had ended up doing exactly what he hated, worshipping Mao.

Pearl was the only one who understood both Dick and me, the same way she understood China. Perhaps this was why Nixon had picked her to accompany him.

Pearl would not have forgotten Hsu Chih-mo. I was sure of that. But I would tell her that Hsu Chih-mo was a lucky man. By that, I meant that he was better off dead. Hsu Chih-mo would have suffered horribly if he had lived to see the Cultural Revolution. He would have ended up worse than Dick.