Wild Ginger (8 page)

"I feel devastated that Wild Ginger not only accepted the treatment, but also embraced it," Evergreen said to me. "She believes that she just has to try harder to prove herself ... I somehow see it as being more destructive than constructive. I demanded a conversation with the district party secretary."

"And?" I asked eagerly.

"He said taking risks or being experimental was never his style."

"What does that mean?"

"He couldn't promote a spy's daughter as a revolutionary model."

"Why didn't he make that clear before the contest?"

"He wanted to use Wild Ginger, to earn his own political credit in the party. You see, he took the chance to show how far he could push a young mind to memorize Mao."

"So Wild Ginger was made a fool."

"Yes, shamefully." He paused. After a while he added, "So was I."

"Mao's representatives." I couldn't help being sarcastic.

"My disappointment was so great that I no longer see things the same way, Maple. Inside I feel sick, depressed. It was not just remorse for Wild Ginger's loss. It was something deeper, more dangerous, and I am frightened of its result."

In 1971 we turned fifteen. Wild Ginger and I graduated from July First Elementary School and entered the Red Flag Middle School. The curriculum was the same, with Mao study still the priority. Wild Ginger had learned the whole business of the seafood market. She knew the names of every wholesaler, fisherman, retailer, market employee, and employer in the market. She knew their habits, families, and relations. She even got to know her mother's ex-admirer, accountant Mr. Choo. After Mrs. Pei died, Mr. Choo appeared to feel guilty. He brought Wild Ginger food and presents, trying to reconcile. Wild Ginger was unmoved. The man explained that he had to betray his own conscience in order to survive. Wild Ginger spat in his face and walked away.

Wild Ginger took me to hang out at the fish market afternoons and evenings. We helped the employees stocking up the supplies. When asked why we were there, Wild Ginger quoted Mao's teaching, '"The youth should get themselves out of the classrooms and learn directly from the working class.'" She made friends with many of the fishwomen, who transported loads of seafood from the ports to the city on their tricycles. They were simple and delightful although poorly educated. They had large muscles and big feet.

Wild Ginger admired the fishwomen's spirit. She became very friendly with a young one named Jung, who was sixteen. She had a round face and heavyset body. She always brought Wild Ginger pieces of dried fish to chew.

Although I didn't particularly like the fish market—its smell bothered me and made me nauseous—I went for Wild Ginger's sake. After a while I found myself interested in the conversations between Jung and Wild Ginger. I learned a lot by listening to their discussions on the nature of the sea, seaweed, fish, squid, snails, and the techniques to catch them.

The year went by quickly. It didn't occur to me until summer that Jung looked worn down. She'd lost her cheerfulness, was nervous, and didn't seem to trust herself. Wild Ginger didn't tell me anything until I remarked on Jung's appearance.

"She hasn't been careful keeping track of her shipments," Wild Ginger said. "Accountant Choo found out that she often brought in less than she had loaded. It's the fifth time that she was missing two baskets of beltfish."

"Is it possible to lose them on her way?"

"It is. But since she's been paying attention she is sure there must be some mistake. But still, she was short of baskets when she passed Mr. Choo's scale."

"That's odd."

"Something is smelly about Accountant Choo," Wild Ginger said. "I have been watching him. I suspect that he is taking advantage of Jung. You know, Jung can't calculate. When Choo's butterfly fingers dance over the abacus in front of her and he tells her that two baskets are missing, she has to believe him. Jung is like a mute who has swallowed bitter grass but is unable to voice it. It's a setup. Before Jung can argue with Choo all the people around her—the squid seller, the cigarette seller, and the liquor seller—act as witnesses for Mr. Choo. In one voice, they say that Jung is wrong. It is ... as if they already knew the answer before Accountant Choo's fingers even touched the abacus ... I need your help, Maple. I must figure this out."

It was eight o'clock in the evening. We found Jung sitting on her tricycle sobbing. She had been accused again. She was afraid of losing her job if the mysterious mistake kept repeating itself. Accountant Choo was firm that there had been no fault on his part. Jung's fellow fishermen were upset, but they were unable to prove Jung's innocence.

The baskets filled with seafood were distributed to each booth. The market employees came and began to sort the fish. I was hungry and wanted to go home. But Wild Ginger
insisted that I stay. She was spying on Mr. Choo. She moved her stall toward the east corner where she could keep Choo in sight. She pretended that she was sharpening her scissors.

"It looks like he is getting ready to take off." Wild Ginger quickly pulled me to her side. "I want you to follow me, Maple. Keep at a distance but keep me in your sight."

"You're not going to do something dangerous, are you?"

"Of course not," Wild Ginger replied without looking at me. She quickly put down her scissors and closed her stall.

I watched Accountant Choo. He locked his abacus away in a cart and pushed the cart into a storage space next to a booth. Out he came carrying a black plastic bag. He crossed the street and entered a public restroom. After a short while he came out, followed by men with familiar faces. They were the discount seafood seller, the cigarette seller, and the liquor seller. They were pulling up their zippers and looking around at the same time. They walked separately but toward the same direction heading north. I backed a few yards from Wild Ginger and pretended that I was passing by.

The group of men formed a triangle with Accountant Choo at its head. After they passed the neighborhood they began to walk faster. We followed them across a construction site, a waste site, an abandoned plastic-tube factory, and onto the grounds of the cigarette factory, which seemed to be closed for the day. The doorman let the group in after he was thrown a pack of cigarettes.

"They are hitting the factory's storage area." Wild Ginger waved at me. Together we began circling the building. Finally we arrived at the back of the factory where tobacco was heaped high.

"How do you know?" I was watching Accountant Choo and his group disappear behind a wall.

"I have been following them but I have never gotten inside the storage area. I want to see what they are doing. Would you wait here?"

Before I could say anything Wild Ginger was gone. She had climbed the fence and leapt to the other side.

I was nervous. My stomach gnawed at me with fear. The sky was now very dark and Wild Ginger was nowhere to be seen. There was no light. The area looked so desolate that it seemed the perfect place for a crime. Suddenly Wild Ginger reappeared. She ran toward me but didn't cross the fence.

"Let's go," I urged.

"Maple, I want you to notify the police immediately."

"What?"

"They are distributing the money that they have stolen!"

"Are you sure, Wild Ginger?"

"Sure! Go now!"

"What about you?"

"I need to keep an eye on them."

"But—"

"Hurry!" She turned and ran back into the darkness.

I tried to envision what she would do. If they caught her they could murder her right here, easy, I thought.

I left quickly. For a moment I was disoriented, too nervous to recognize directions. Finally I managed to get back to my own neighborhood. I zipped through lanes and passed my own door. The light in my house was already off. My mother always shut the light off early in order to save electricity. I told myself to keep going until I arrived at the door of the neighborhood police guard. I knocked.

The guard opened the door. He was eating his dinner. His motorcycle was parked in the center of the room. Hearing my report he immediately phoned his headquarters. "The patrol is on the way." He wiped his oily mouth and put on his jacket. Starting his motorcycle he said, "Get on the back with me, kid."

By the time the police and the patrol arrived Wild Ginger's face was scratched and her right arm hung loose in front of her chest. Trying to stop Choo and his group from escaping she was almost strangled to death. The police chief arrested Choo and his group on the spot.

Wild Ginger was sent to the local hospital. Evergreen and I followed her into the large building. In an operating room, we sat by her side while doctors tended to her. They set her arm and wrapped it in a cast. They gave her blood transfusions and stitched up her cuts. I dampened
her lips with a wet towel. She was in enormous pain. Evergreen offered his hand. She grabbed it and breathed deeply. I watched the sweat on her forehead turn into crystal beads. Evergreen kept talking to her, trying to distract her from the pain. It surprised me to see the usually quiet Evergreen chatting away like a young wide-eyed boy. He told Wild Ginger stories of his childhood, of his fathers adventures as a sailor, his achievements and accidents, and later his strokes and nerve disorders. He told her how he and his late mother helped the old man when he was paralyzed. And finally about his own early dream of becoming a captain. He got excited when mentioning a toy ship he made when he was ten.

"It's giant." He spread out his arms to show its length. "It's got a hundred and twenty-three compartments. It took twenty pounds of wood and six hundred empty matchboxes. I had collected matchboxes since I was seven. The ship took me two years to complete. I named it
Victory:
"

Wild Ginger was quiet. She looked, no, stared at Evergreen, as if it weren't her body the doctor's needles were going through.

"I used to make rainbow soap papers as a child," she told Evergreen after she was sent to the recovery room. "I was fascinated with the process. I went door to door to collect soap scraps. I scrubbed the leftover soap from soap boxes. After I had a bucketful, I melted it on the stove. I added fragrant jasmine petals. Then I divided the paste in different
bowls and dyed it different colors. I stirred the paste under the sun until it became thick. Then I took pieces of cardboard and cut them into all kinds of shapes. I coated the papers with the paste. After they dried the fragrance became strong. There was nothing else like them. You could take the papers anywhere and wash your hands with them. I liked them so much that I didn't use them. I put them in my Mao books. I looked at and smelled them every day when I worked on my reciting."

"You must show them to me."

"When you show me your wooden ship."

Wild Ginger was visited by the district party secretary in the hospital. Overnight she was pronounced a heroine and a revolutionary model. She was interviewed by the
People's Daily
and the
Liberation Daily.
The next morning her story was on every household's breakfast table. The journalists asked if Wild Ginger had been directed by Mao's teaching during her brave exploit. Not only did she give a positive answer, she provided the details in the paragraph of Mao's teaching which had inspired her action. Her words were printed with quotation marks and underlines. She was now a true champion.

I was thrilled for Wild Ginger. But in the meantime I wondered if reciting Mao at the moment of being strangled was possible. Maybe Mao was the driving force behind her action. Maybe she had become a true Maoist.

I was interviewed as well. But when asked what was on my mind when fetching the policeman, I said that I was thinking about Wild Ginger's safety.

"Are you sure that you didn't think of Mao's teaching?" the journalist asked. "For example, 'It's our duty to help our comrade...'?" "No, not really." "Not a bit?"

"Well, I lost my way and was trying to find it."

"No Mao thoughts?"

"I wish—"

"Which paragraph?"

"I can't remember."

"You have to be honest."

"Well, no then. I am sorry."

"Wild Ginger's mind had only Mao's teaching at that moment. Why don't you think clearly before giving me an answer?"

"I was ... too scared to think."

"Fine." The journalist closed his notebook and stood up.

"But I helped." I felt wronged.

"Well, that is not significant enough material."

The newspapers printed photos of Wild Ginger with her right arm in a cast. Her smile was proud. The title said
MAO'S TEACHING GUIDED OUR HEROINE TO VICTORY.
Wild Ginger was brought to meet the general party secretary of Shanghai. The secretary was on his way to Beijing and he wanted to introduce Wild Ginger to Chairman Mao.

The news brought honor to the city, district, and neighborhood. Wild Ginger's coming meeting with Chairman Mao was the glory of everyone. The school held a big ceremony in Wild Ginger's name. Evergreen was called to give a speech on the heroine's hard work in studying Mao quotations. I was called the heroine's "comrade in arms" and was asked to comment on her life. In the meantime I was rewarded with a wok-size Mao button.

My parents got emotional when thinking of Mrs. Pei. Had Mrs. Pei been alive she would have been so happy. My mother went to Wild Ginger's house at night and burned incense beneath the fig tree.

Our former teacher, Mrs. Cheng, was in joyful tears when she came and chatted with my mother. "Wild Ginger inherited her mother's character."

"I can't agree with you more," Mother responded. "Mrs. Pei was honorably stubborn. She would rather have had her head removed than give up her feelings for Mr. Pei. But how could she have any idea how Wild Ginger would turn out?"

"'A piece of real gold fears no fire,'" recited Mrs. Cheng. "When Wild Ginger was brought to my class I knew she was talented and would sooner or later distinguish herself."

The fishwoman Jung was brought onto the stage to tell her story. "It doesn't surprise me that Chairman Mao wants to receive Wild Ginger," Jung said. "Wild Ginger is the best of all his disciples. Serving the people with heart and soul is exactly what Wild Ginger has been practicing."