The Corpse Walker: Real Life Stories: China From the Bottom Up (22 page)

ZHANG:
Pretty much. There was only one time that I became really emotionally attached. A little girl was killed in a traffic accident. When they brought her to the funeral home, half of her head was gone. I touched her hands and arms, and sadness overcame me. After my assistant bathed her, I asked to be left alone so I could reconstruct her head and face. I filled the back of her head with silicone gel, and covered the gel with a piece of someone else's skin that had been soaked in formaldehyde. I carefully washed and combed her hair, braiding it into a thick pigtail. After I applied some makeup to her face and her lips, I put a white dress on her. She looked radiant, with a sweet smile, as if she were alive. I specifically put on some French mascara. Her eyes looked beautiful. At the memorial service, all the attendees were shocked to see the beautiful angel lying there. They cried and took turns hugging her. I was observing from the corner. I was secretly praying, hoping her parents could allow her to stay in the mortuary one more night so I could look at her alone, bringing some flowers or toys to her. But they quickly wheeled her into the crematorium after the memorial service. All that work lasted for over an hour. Beauty doesn't last. It's bound to be destroyed.

LIAO:
Don't be too sad, Master Zhang. Beauty leaves its imprints in the mind. Throughout history, there have been many beautiful moments that can never be recovered, but you and I know that they existed. For example, you know about the epic story of
Farewell, My Concubine.
About two thousand years ago, General Xiang Yu's troops were trapped by his enemy inside a small southern town. The night before his last battle for life, he sat in his camp with his beloved concubine Yu Ji and sang: “My strength could pull mountains, my spirit could conquer the world. Yet so unlucky am I that my horse just refuses to gallop! What can I do if my horse denies me even a trot? Oh my dear Yu Ji, what would you have me do?” To which Yu Ji replied, after performing a final dance in front of him: “The Han have invaded us. Chu's songs surround us. My lord's spirit is depleted. Why then should I still live?” She cut her own throat with his sword. Grief-stricken, Xiang Yu fought his way to the Wu River. After all his men had fallen, he took his own life. People took this tragic story and imbued it with new feeling, imagination, and meaning. The concubine, a rare, unimaginable beauty, perished from the world, just like the little girl you talked about. But her story passes on from generation to generation.

ZHANG:
You writers make things sound so poetic. You have very good memories. Even though I only understand half of what you just said, I know you are complimenting my work. Throughout my career, nobody has used those poetic words to praise me. I have spent most of my life in that funeral home. What am I going to do after I retire? I don't know how to play cards or chess. I don't like to chat with people. All I know about is dead people.

LIAO:
You can raise a cat or a dog or go fishing. People can have different hobbies.

ZHANG:
I'm too afraid to feel attached to anyone or anything. Cats and dogs are like human beings. After you live with them long enough, you begin to feel attached, and one day, when you have to part with them forever, you will feel sad. So many nice people and good-looking people die each day. I work on their bodies, hoping to temporarily preserve and enhance their beauty before they are gone forever. It's tough. The scariest part of life is not death, but the loss that comes with death. When I look around me, I notice that I can't afford to lose stuff anymore.

My former boss died at the beginning of this year. He was not even seventy yet. I did the makeup for him. This guy had one hobby when he was alive. He collected all sorts of wedding invitations when he was young. After he turned fifty, he began to collect obituaries. His whole room was filled with his collections. He used to say that all obituaries sounded the same and that we Chinese people lack imagination in the use of language.

LIAO:
That was kind of eccentric.

ZHANG:
Well, he wanted his own obituary to be imaginative and unique. So he began to compose his own when he was still alive. He had printed a couple hundred copies and stored them in a drawer, along with his bank accounts and his will. After he died, his friends located those copies and showed one to Old Wang, the new Party secretary at the funeral home. Old Wang, who was going to preside over the memorial service, read it aloud to several people during the rehearsal. Nobody could understand what the obituary was about. It was so archaic.

LIAO:
I assume he must have used an ancient style of liturgy.

ZHANG:
Perhaps. They sounded like haiku. I didn't know half of the characters. They were handwritten, and I assume that he must have read it hundreds of times before he died, hoping those could be the last words he left for this world. Unfortunately, the new Party secretary didn't think his obituary reflected the revolutionary spirit of the new era. So he composed a new one filled with modern political jargon. It was written in a style and language that our past director had despised. He could be turning over in his grave. Oh well, what can you do? This is China. You don't have much control when you are alive. When you die, you won't have control over your own obituary either.

THE NEIGHBORHOOD COMMITTEE DIRECTOR

Since 1954, the government has set up a system of neighborhood committees on a nationwide basis to extend security and control beyond what could be provided by the police. Each committee usually consists of between three and seven full-time cadres, augmented by unpaid local residents, such as housewives and retirees. Over the past fifty years, neighborhood committees have served as a primary means for disseminating propaganda, mediating disputes, controlling troublemakers, and spying on any possible violations of the government's one-child policies.

I spent my teenage years in Jinguang District, which is one of the oldest slums in Chengdu. Located in a remote corner of the city, the area has been overlooked by developers. Old rundown apartment buildings are still squatting there, like ugly Dumpsters. The seventy-nine-year-old Mi Daxi was my neighborhood committee director for many years. He was quite an idol of mine in my childhood days.

LIAO YIWU:
I'm looking for Director Mi of the neighborhood committee.

MI DAXI:
That's me. By the way, I'm no longer the director. I'm retired. I'm here today to help out my daughter. She is out running some errands. What's your name? Do you have an ID card or a recommendation letter from your company?

LIAO:
Do you recognize me? I used to live on the second floor. I'm the son of Teacher Liao.

MI:
You have changed a lot. I can hardly recognize you. Where are you making the big bucks nowadays?

LIAO:
It's very refreshing to hear a diehard Communist like you talk about money.

MI:
Times have changed. Everyone talks about money and nobody cares about Communism anymore.

LIAO:
I guess so. In the old days, I remember, your office used to be located in a beautiful building on the main street here. This current office looks kind of shabby, doesn't it? Anyway, which year did you join the neighborhood committee?

MI:
It was about forty years ago. When I first started at the neighborhood committee, I was not even forty yet. I had suffered injuries on my right hand while working at the local machinery factory. They put me on disability leave and assigned me a part-time job at this neighborhood committee. At the beginning, I was pretty depressed because working at a factory was a very popular profession in the 1960s. Mao called workers “the pioneers of the Communist revolution.” I couldn't see myself working with a bunch of gossipy mothers and grandmothers who staffed the neighborhood committees here. The local officials offered me encouragement and support. They told me that controlling every household in the neighborhood was an important task. We had to watch out for bad elements that could pose a threat to our Communist rule. They even honored me by electing me to be a delegate to the District People's Congress, the local legislative body. So, after a while, I began to like it.

The old neighborhood committee building belonged to a rich capitalist. He had owned a textile factory before the revolution in 1949. All of his children had escaped overseas. He and his wife were left behind because they didn't want to live in a foreign country. In the early 1950s, the government took over his factory and converted it into a state asset. The capitalist lost his job and simply stayed home, idling around all day long. At the beginning of the Cultural Revolution, the passion of the Red Guards was almost palpable. They were ready to kill or beat up any counterrevolutionaries. That capitalist knew very well that he could be the next target. So, one day, when Mr. Wang, the local police chief, and I walked into his house, that guy immediately offered to move out of his house. He said he had committed crimes by exploiting workers in his factory. After years of receiving Communist education, he had reformed himself and wanted to start a new chapter in life. He called the house a symbol of his family's shameful past. His only request was for a smaller apartment so he and his wife could have a place to sleep. Mr. Wang was a no-nonsense guy. He took out his pen and wrote a letter, ordering the local housing authority to arrange a small run-down apartment for the capitalist. So the neighborhood committee moved into the big house.

LIAO:
How could you take over other people's property like that?

MI:
In that era, Chairman Mao's words were the supreme law. To tell you the truth, after we converted his living quarters into an office, his old neighbors applauded the decision unanimously. That capitalist and his wife used to live in that huge courtyard house with over ten rooms while his neighbors were crammed inside tiny run-down apartments. We kept asking ourselves: What was so special about him? Anyway, his decision to move out had also saved the house from being burned down by the young Red Guard rebels.

LIAO:
What happened to the house later on?

MI:
During the Cultural Revolution, people in the neighborhood were all divided into different factions. Each faction believed that they were more revolutionary than the others. There were gunfights every night. The neighborhood committee office served temporarily as the headquarters for one of the powerful factions. A couple of years later, the provincial Communist Party dissolved the warring factions. The house was then occupied by a local government agency. It wasn't until the mid-1970s that the neighborhood committee was allowed to move back in again.

LIAO:
Is the neighborhood committee part of the city government?

MI:
It's a pseudo-government organization. I will say it's at the bottom level on the city government organizational chart. The local public security bureau is a bona fide government agency. Right now, only one policeman has been assigned to our neighborhood. So the committee ends up being the eyes and ears of the police.

LIAO:
Did you get a regular salary when you were the director?

MI:
I got a monthly stipend. Do you consider that salary? Let me tell you, that menial job was the hardest thing in the world. We made sure all the Party policies were being communicated to every household, and we were obligated to report to authorities what people were doing. If a woman violated the one-child policy and became pregnant with her second child, we had to talk with her and persuade her to have an abortion. If she refused, we would have to report her to her work unit. She could end up losing her job. If a couple got into a fight or a young person didn't want to pay money to support his ailing parents, we would be called on to mediate and resolve the family crisis. Of course, priorities shifted all the time. For example, thieves and gang members are now as rampant as rats. Without the help of the neighborhood committee, the public security bureau would have a hard time cracking down on them.

LIAO:
I see. Could you tell me how the neighborhood committee ended up in this shabby office here?

MI:
In the late 1970s and 1980s, China started the “open door” policy. Overnight, having a relative overseas became a fashionable thing. The government rolled out its red carpet for overseas Chinese, hoping that they would invest in China. That capitalist I mentioned earlier had two sons who returned from America in 1985. They were very shrewd people. When they first walked into the courtyard, they bowed to us three times, expressing their gratitude to the Chinese government, the Communist Party, and the neighbors for “taking care” of their house. They even presented a banner to show their gratitude.

LIAO:
You and the local Communist Party took their house illegally. Were they really serious about “thanking” you?

MI:
That was American capitalistic bullshit. It was a diplomatic way to kick us out of the house. We had no other alternatives but to get out. The minute we moved out, the two guys put the house up for sale. It was the eighties. China's economy was not as developed as it is today. The majority of the people here lived on meager salaries and there weren't any rich people around. So the house ended up on the market for a long time. Then those two bastards contacted the city, offering to sell the house to the government at a hefty price of 300,000 yuan [US$36,000]. That was so evil. If it had been in Mao's era, the revolutionary neighbors would have stepped out and slapped them in the face. Oh well, times had changed. The government showed lots of mercy toward those two American bastards and decided to buy it. They hoped the kind gesture could help heal the wounds of the capitalist who had been traumatized during the Cultural Revolution and help lure his children back from the U.S. You know what? Those two bastards had already been brainwashed by the U.S. imperialists. They took the money and left. They even complained that we had trashed their home.

LIAO:
But I think buying the house might be a good deal for the government. Considering the real estate market here, don't you think that house is worth at least two million yuan [US$240,000] now?

MI:
The house was demolished. It was really a shame. I'm not wasting any regrets over the house. I just hated the fact that the money had gone into the pockets of those two bastards. In the 1980s, 300,000 yuan was worth a lot. We could have used that money to build ten elementary schools for children in poor regions. The street where the house used to be was close to the main thoroughfare. The whole block was demolished to give way to a new shopping mall. Those who lived in that area were lucky because they were able to relocate to new houses in nicer areas.

But this area here is on an isolated corner. It's a ghetto. Several developers have come, but have not seen any potential for development. Those who get stuck here will be stuck here forever. Some older folks still come to the committee out of habit, thinking that we could somehow help them relocate to a new area. This is not the Mao era. What do they expect us to do?

LIAO:
People like you are still considered the backbone of the government.

MI:
But who is my backbone?

LIAO:
Don't be so pessimistic. Nowadays, people are no longer enthused about Communist revolutions the way they used to be in the 1960s and 1970s. But your services are still needed. In this area, there are all kinds of migrants floating around. If anything happens, such as robberies or gang fights, the public security officers wouldn't even know where to start their investigation without your help. From your little shabby office here, you can see clearly which family is playing mah-jongg and engaged in gambling, which apartment has been rented out, who the visitors are, and which young couples are moving in together before they get married, etc. As a kid, I remember gang members were afraid of you because you were connected with the local public security bureau. Before police decided to send anyone to the reeducation camp, they would consult with you first.

MI:
They still consult with me now. But under most circumstances, the public security bureau no longer sends kids to reeducation camps. They simply levy a heavy fine. Not long ago, my daughter led the public security officers to search an apartment building, and they found ten guys who had migrated here from the rural areas. None of them had any city resident permits. Some were caught gambling. Others were found watching porno tapes together. The officers rounded them up and put them in a suburban detention center. Several days later, they paid a fine and were released.

LIAO:
I don't think you can arrest or detain people simply because they don't have a resident permit, or simply because they watch porn.

MI:
You have the wrong ideas in your brain. To me, it is a crime to watch pornography because it leads to sex crimes. In the old days, people were jailed for reading a handwritten manuscript of a love story. Remember the kid who lived next door to you? He was circulating the handwritten book
The Yearning Heart of a Young Woman,
which was a very popular love story published underground in the 1970s. One of his classmates reported him to the police. I led the police to his room and we found the evidence. The police hung a black cardboard sign around his neck and paraded him around the neighborhood for circulating lurid materials to young people. He spent three years in a reeducation camp.

LIAO:
That was during the Mao era. Just think about it: those kids were your neighbors. Why would you want to ruin their future simply because they were reading a love story? If you go to the shopping malls nowadays, you can get all sorts of magazines and books on love and sex at the newsstands.

MI:
You can have too much sympathy for bad people. I can tell who is a good person and who is a bad person by simply looking at him. In the old days, there was a North Korean movie called
The Invisible Battlefield.
The movie told a story about how counterrevolutionaries were trying to overthrow the Communist government in North Korea. I was very touched by the movie. I proposed that all neighborhood committee members should see the movie, and become vigilant. The movie was a good education for us. We decided to mobilize all the people in the neighborhood, so they could report to us any suspicious activities. Before the 1980s, each time we received a tip, we would conduct large-scale searches of individual homes.