Red Dust by Ma Jian

Author:Ma Jian [Jian,Ma]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780307427410
Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
Published: 2002-03-14T16:00:00+00:00

5.

The Wind-Blown Soil

City of Tombs

I leave the Yangzi at Yichang, then walk north through Hubei Province from the Shennongjia mountains to the Wudang range. After a five-day rest in Shiyan town I press on into Shaanxi Province. It is only seventeen days since I left Sichuan but my money is almost gone.

In the evening of 23 October I arrive in Xian, exhausted and penniless.

24 October. Clear sky. Came straight to Shaanxi Press last night to find Yao Lu. Haven’t seen him since he visited Beijing for the 1979 Democracy Wall Movement. He is editor of Yellow River magazine now, but looks as dishevelled as ever. He sleeps in his office during the week, and said I could stay with him. This morning he even found me some work. His leaders have contracted me to draw the illustrations for this month’s magazine. They’ll pay me 20 yuan a picture, so I should make 400 yuan all being well.

26 October. Fierce winds. Three of Yao Lu’s friends came round last night, and we drank and talked for hours. One was a set designer at Xian Film Studio. He said there is nothing left in Xian but ancient buildings, if you want to see the real Shaanxi you must travel north. Another, Yang Qing, writes poetry. His favourite poet is Tagore. By day, he works at the Public Security Bureau as censor of post. He said all the city’s mail passes through his hands before it reaches the post office. Yao Lu said Yang Qing’s wife is the belle of the local song and dance troupe. She comes from Mizhi, a town in the north where the women are famed for their beauty.

I told Yang Qing about how the Qinghai police accused me of selling drugs, and when they found none on me, accused me of wanting to buy drugs instead. ‘It’s not funny,’ he said. ‘Drugs are rife in Qinghai. Some come from Xinjiang to be processed, some are grown locally. Many villages have been taken over by the army. When people start to make money, they experiment with drugs. It is considered one of the pleasures of modern life. One man I arrested said a puff of opium costs more than a policeman’s wage. Our detoxification centre is filled to capacity.’ We discussed the sensations that drugs induce, even though none of us had ever taken any, or seen any for that matter. I asked Yang Qing if I could visit the centre. He said he would take me next week on condition that I wash and shave and try to behave like a normal person.

The other visitor was Sun Xi, Yellow River’s literary editor. He said, ‘I know every writer in Shaanxi. Just mention my name, and you will enjoy free meals and accommodation throughout the province.’ He drank far too much, and is snoring on my bed as I write.

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