The Corpse Walker: Real Life Stories: China From the Bottom Up (17 page)

LIAO:
I have to say that you guys were dedicated Party officials. By the way, I read an article recently, saying that during the three-year famine, peasants in a village rounded up former landlords, rich peasants, and other counterrevolutionaries, slaughtered them, boiled their bodies in an open-air cauldron, and then ate the flesh. People then shouted and screamed in celebration of what they called “triumph in class struggle.” Did you witness anything like that?

ZHENG:
No. I strongly question the accuracy of the story. Cannibalism was driven by hunger, not by hatred. It is true that the landowning class was attacked in several political campaigns, but I'm not aware of any incident like what you have just mentioned. There was a commonly accepted moral standard in the rural areas that eating human flesh was wrong, even though it was the flesh of a counterrevolutionary. Moreover, cannibalistic activities were carried out secretly because people knew that if they were caught, they would have been punished by the people's government. Cannibalism occurred when our government couldn't feed its people. It's unfortunate that we lost more people in peacetime than during the war. The Party made some serious mistakes. Half a century has passed, yet the leadership still hasn't offered an official explanation to people. It's sad.

THE FORMER LANDOWNER

For his entire life, my grandfather never ventured out of his hometown. He was a former landowner in Sichuan's Heiping region. The land he had purchased over the years made him rich before the Communist takeover in 1949, but it also became the source of endless misery and trouble. In 1950, when Chairman Mao initiated the reforms of distributing land to the poor and classifying landowners as the enemy of the people, my grandfather lost all his property and was the target of many of Mao's political campaigns.

I always wanted to find out about his life, but never had the opportunity. He passed away in 1988 at the age of eighty-four.

A fellow writer of mine, Zhou Mingyue, presented an opportunity for me to make it up. His grandfather, Zhou Shude, was also a former landowner. Recently, I visited him at a village in northern Sichuan. At the age of eighty-nine, the senior Zhou was lucid and articulate.

LIAO YIWU:
Sir, at your age, what's your biggest wish?

ZHOU SHUDE:
I don't have any big wish. I have turned into a lonely old man. I have raised three sons and three daughters. None of them is living with me now. They all have promising careers somewhere else.

LIAO:
Your house is a little run-down. Why can't your children give you some money to fix it?

ZHOU:
Mingyue's father has asked me many times; he says he will cover my living expenses, to go live with my second daughter in Panjiagou. But if I go, who is going to take care of this ancestral headquarters? On top of that, I would have to forfeit my resident registration card and would no longer be considered a member of Zhou Village. When that happens, the government could assign my land to someone else. This place looks shabby now, but when it was new, it was a beautiful courtyard house with a left wing, right wing, a main hall, an annex room, and a servants quarters. My grandpa had purchased the property and passed it on to my father. In 1934, my father died of exhaustion from overwork. In his will, he divided all of his land and this house, and left equal parts for my elder brother and me.

My brother, Zhou Shugui, was the black sheep of the family. He's been dead for many years, but I still can't forgive him to this day. I'm not done with him. Someday, I'm going to settle the score with him, even if it means I have to follow him to hell. Anyway, after he got his inheritance, he would go visit the city a couple of times a month, eating and drinking at nice restaurants, and visiting prostitutes. Even worse, he became hooked on opium. Young guys like you probably don't know what it's like to be an opium addict. It means your whole life is ruined. Stacks of cash can be smoked away just like that. That was the case with my brother. Within a few years, he sold his land and then his house to feed his habit. You know what? He even pawned his wife. When his wife found out, she jumped into a nearby pond to commit suicide, but was stopped by relatives. That still didn't awaken his conscience. Finally, his wife went to the Zhou clan leader, begging him to grant her a divorce.

The clan leader sent a village security guard to my brother's house, dragged him out, and tied him to a big tree in the middle of the village. He was left there for a week, getting soaked in the rain and baked in the sun. That was our way of detoxification. However, minutes after he was untied from the tree, he dashed into my house, begging for money to buy opium. After I said no, he smacked his head on the ground, slapped himself on the face, and threw himself at the wall. Seeing that I wasn't moved by those tricks, he began to threaten me, saying that he would burn our ancestral shrine if I refused to give him money. Disheartened as I was, I decided to grant him his wish, provided that he would agree in writing to sever blood relations with me. He couldn't care less. He put his fingerprint on the agreement, snatched the ten silver dollars that I gave him, and disappeared. Our clan leader was a very kindhearted man. Out of desperation, he called all the Zhou family members together and officially declared that my brother, Zhou Shugui, was a disgrace and would be forever expelled from our clan. If ever he was seen coming into the village, the leader would issue an order to have his legs broken.

To redeem my family's reputation, I worked very hard, rising early and going to bed late. I took up the salt-trading business while my wife, who was six months pregnant, worked in the field with hired farmers. I vowed to buy back the property sold away by my brother. While it was hard to earn money, it was equally difficult to keep it. By 1937, I managed to pay off all the debts that my brother had owed and invited my sister-in-law and her children back to our house. They lived in the right wing. It was one big happy family again. Everyone contributed in his or her own way. Both people and livestock were healthy. Our life was finally set on the right track. Before I went to bed every night, I lit a candle and burned incense, thanking my ancestors and asking for their blessings.

Unfortunately, our good life didn't last long. The Communists came. In 1950, the local county government sent a Land Reform work team. I was branded a member of the exploiting class. Our clan leader and the former village security chief were both classified as “evil landowners.” After being paraded in the county in a series of public denunciation meetings, both of them were executed. My wife and I were grouped together with a bunch of other landowners or rich farmers, and shuffled to the village square to witness the execution. Aiya, it was very traumatic. I was educated at a private school, and was well versed in Confucianism. I was kind to others. I had never harmed anyone or harbored any ill feelings toward others. However, my fellow villagers, who used to be polite and respectful, had suddenly changed, as if they had all donned different facial masks. At the “speak bitterness meetings,” two of my hired farmers accused me of exploiting them by forcing them to work in the cold winter days and randomly deducting their pay. I didn't agree with their accusations because I was working along with them in the field. Also, even under Communism, we still need to work the fields in wintertime, don't we? Those two traitors! I used to treat them so generously. They even led the government work team to my house and reviewed the inventories of my land, property, and livestock. They annulled all my land titles, land leasing, and property rental agreements. They confiscated everything I owned.

Of course, the world around me suddenly changed: rich people ended up suffering and the poor became the masters. It was hard to accept it at first.

The thing that hurt me the most was my brother. That bastard! He squandered all of his wealth on drugs and became a street beggar. Then the world changed. As a poor street person, he was made a master of the land, and rose to the top. As for me, the rich landowner, I became the enemy of the people and sank to the bottom. Overnight, my brother turned into a devout Communist supporter. He denounced me at a public speak bitterness meeting, slapped me on the face, and scolded me for oppressing him and treating him like a pig and a dog. He accused me of illegally taking his land, and abducting his wife and children. What a liar! Heaven knows I didn't deserve the treatment. Everyone in the village knew that I helped support his wife and raise his children. But when my brother was spewing out those lies, there wasn't a single person who stood up and spoke on my behalf. I was mad as hell and couldn't breathe. Soon I passed out right on the spot. By the time I regained consciousness several days later, I noticed several strangers had moved into my courtyard house. All my family members were kicked out into the small annex room. My brother occupied the three large rooms in the right wing. With the help of the Communists, he now possessed a house, which was mine, a plot of land, which I used to own, and a family, which I had supported. Who would have guessed that an opium addict could have been rewarded with such wealth!

Each time I saw him walk around in the courtyard, I was full of anger. As time went by, I got used to it and accepted my fate. Sometimes, when we bumped into each other, he would mock me in private: Little brother, you worked like an ox for your whole life. Have you managed to keep our ancestral fortunes intact? I would answer: I'm the former landowner, and you are the poor revolutionary peasant. I'm the enemy of the people. You and I should draw a clear line. We don't belong to the same class. He would say: Fuck it. If it hadn't been for opium, both of us would have been classified as landowners. We would have been executed by now.

LIAO:
Your big brother wanted to make sure that you could appreciate what he had done for the family. How did you manage to get through that period of your life?

ZHOU:
Mine wasn't the only family that had lost everything. There were thousands of people who had been branded as landowners and counterrevolutionaries. All of those people had been deprived of their wealth and had broken families. It was a change of dynasty and someone was bound to suffer. In those days, I kept telling my wife: The most important thing is that we are both alive. We have a future ahead of us. I told her not to commit suicide or do anything stupid. Since my children were all grown-ups, I told them they could either sever their ties with us or they could leave for faraway places. It was up to them.

There is a Chinese saying which goes: “All misfortunes originate in your big mouth.” So I kept my mouth shut and nobody came to bother me. In the old days, they installed a loudspeaker in this courtyard. Each time, there was a speak bitterness meeting, the loudspeaker would be turned on. Our names would be called. About twenty of us “bad elements” would be ordered to gather in front of the podium. We would stand there, with our heads down. Over ten militiamen would watch us. Sometimes, at small-scale meetings, we would be asked to sit down. See this tiny stool over here. I had it made in the year of the Land Reform for those public meetings. It's still sturdy. Its surface has become as slippery and shiny as a piece of stone slate. If it was a large-scale political meeting that involved the whole county, we had to walk five to ten kilometers in a single file to the county headquarters. At those meetings, the attendees could number over ten thousand. All the leaders would sit in the first two rows on the stage. Then, over a hundred bad guys like me would stand in front of the stage facing the crowd. The meeting could last for many hours.

Sometimes we had to stay out for three consecutive days for different public gatherings. We would get up before dawn, cook some rice, and try to eat as much as we could. It would be a whole day event. We wouldn't be able to come home until late in the evening. Getting through those long meetings could be tough. It was very easy for me to fall asleep. That happened a couple of times. The militiamen beat me up pretty badly. I was in my forties then. Years of hard labor, such as carrying heavy sacks of salt on my back, made me pretty strong. The tough punishment and the long hours of standing at those public meetings didn't bother me much. But as time went by, my back started to go because the militiamen forced me to bend down very deeply. I never complained or disobeyed. At the end of the Land Reform movement, the leader of the work team came to talk with me. He complimented me for being cooperative with the government. I was all smiles and bowed to him. In my heart, I felt as if someone had been stabbing me with a blunt knife.

By the 1970s, those political campaigns were running out of steam. County-level public meetings were no longer in fashion and decreased in frequency. People's hostility toward former landowners was somehow softened. Gradually, my fellow villagers began to renew their friendship with me since everyone in the village was in one way or another related by blood. We all shared the same family name Zhou. So as the saying goes, fortune can leave you, but your health, your family, and true friends are indispensable.

LIAO:
When I was a kid, our school always invited poor peasants to our speak bitterness meetings. The intent was to urge young students to forget the “bitter past” under the Nationalist government and to cherish the “happiness” under Communism. At those meetings, we were obligated to eat rotten food so we could get an idea of the kind of food that poor peasants used to consume in pre-Communist days. One day, we went to visit the mansion of a big former landowner who had been executed by the government during the Land Reform movement. The mansion was converted into a museum. There were many exhibits showing how the landowner had exploited his farmers and how he had tortured those who couldn't afford to pay back debts. We were shocked by his brutality. After that, we hated all landowners. After hearing your stories, I get the impression that the landowners were pretty nice people. Do you mean to say that the Land Reform movement was a mistake?

ZHOU:
You are a smart person and can decide for yourself. Let bygones be bygones. The government rehabilitated my name in 1979. I no longer carry the “evil landowner” label. I'm grateful to Deng Xiaoping for his economic reform policies. The Party realized its mistakes and was not afraid to correct them. I was given the second chance to be a respectful human being. I guess I need to correct myself here. I didn't mean to say that the Party realized its mistakes and was not afraid to redress them. I should say I am not afraid to redress my own mistakes. Nowadays, my life as an ordinary peasant is much better than that of a landowner before 1949. We have electricity and TV. We have plenty of meat and you can eat however much you want. This was never possible in the old days. We could only afford to eat meat once a week. My grandson, Mingyue, told me that even prisoners can eat meat twice a week. Both my grandfather and my father were country bumpkins. They worked in the fields along with our hired farmers. Sometimes, they overworked the ox that pulled the plows. When the animal began to cough blood, humans took over the plows. That was how we accumulated wealth. Not like today. Young men and women leave the village empty-handed and migrate to big cities to look for jobs. In a couple of years, they come home with money. It's magic. They can build new houses and buy lots of stuff. If we apply the same classification standards used during the Land Reform, half of the villagers today would be called rich landowners. My son is a teacher in a big city. My grandson, Mingyue, has graduated from a university, and I heard he has a doctorate degree or something. In the old days, having an advanced degree was very rare in this part of the country. My private tutor used to tell me that the scholar Hu Shi grew up here. He had a doctoral degree in the early 1900s. The emperor met him in person and sought advice from him. Just imagine how scholarly and knowledgeable my grandson is. I assume the Communist leaders also consult him frequently. Who knows!