Spider Eaters: A Memoir by R Yang

Author:R Yang
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2010-02-01T10:47:00+00:00

Perhaps the threat we made worried the higher-level officials. Soon afterwards, we were invited to talk with Wu Zhipu, deputy Party secretary of central southern China, who was Zhao Ziyang's superior. This old man was even more patient and amiable than Zhao Ziyang. For hours he listened to our criticism of Zhao. Then he offered to arrange another meeting for us to "help Zhao Ziyang face to face."

"No. We have no time to help him. We have more important things to do." I do not remember what those important things were. Looking back on it, I think by that time I was really fed up with political struggle that was very different from what I had imagined. It was not just theories and manifestos, inspiration, debate, and noble sacrifice. It was a fight for power, ugly and ruthless. Enough was enough. Before September was over we decided to leave Guangzhou.

By the time we left Guangzhou, my fellow Red Guards and I were all in bad shape. In my case, I lost my voice completely. No matter how hard I tried, no sound would come out of my throat. It was a weird experience. I guess it was the result of too many excited speeches and debates, battling others with Chairman Mao's quotations at the top of my voice. Perhaps too little sleep and irregular meals had something to do with it too. Sometimes we would not sleep for two or three nights. Sometimes just a single meal or no meal for a whole day.

In fact, I consider myself very lucky to be alive. Shortly before we left Guangzhou, one night, a group of Red Guards, I among them, walked along Zhongshan Street. It was well after midnight. The city was asleep. The street was dim. I was exhausted. My feet were like rocks. I fell behind. Another girl named Wuliang, who was only fourteen, was with me. After a while, we literally fell asleep in the middle of the street.

Other Red Guards went ahead for a mile or so. When they realized that we were missing, they came back to look for us. Fortunately they found us before we got run over by a car or a truck. Otherwise we would have become martyrs, and martyrs of this sort were later judged to be big fools who sacrificed their lives for a wrong cause. Now history has pretty much forgotten them. I'd much prefer to be alive so that I can write this book.

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