Wild Ginger by Anchee Min

Author:Anchee Min
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Literary, Communism, Political, Fiction, Coming of Age, China, Historical, Young women, General
ISBN: 9780618380435
Publisher: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt
Published: 2003-12-03T10:00:00+00:00

14

"Get up and attend the Zhong dancing class!" A group of neighborhood activists rang handbells throughout the lanes. "Order from the district party secretary!" "Ten o'clock, check yourself in at the marketplace!" "Show your loyalty toward Chairman Mao through your action!"

"Zoo class! Zoo class!" The children ran after the group and shouted cheerfully.

After the group made their rounds through the neighborhood, they came to knock on doors to make sure that everyone was out.

"Mama, time to go!" my sisters called. "The activists are knocking our door off its hinges."

"I'm trying to find my shoes! I can't go with slippers, can I?"

"Hurry up!"

"Zoo class!" Mother finally found her shoes. "Forcing an old dog to catch a mouse. Buddha with your eyes open above."

Down the lane, One-Eye Grandpa greeted Mother. He was in baggy clothes. "I'm ready to have fun," he said to her. "Think of it this way, the dance will get your blood circulation going and boost your longevity." They chatted and Mother laughed in embarrassment.

The crowd grew thicker. There were hundreds of people, grouped in families, making their way to the market. We all wore blue or gray Mao jackets. Most of my neighbors were in their wooden slippers. Tic, tac, tic, tac. The noise was loud and pleasant to the ears.

Mother asked One-Eye Grandpa if he had ever danced before. The old man replied, "I studied traditional healing dance when I was young." He stopped and squatted down to demonstrate. After making some turns he started to hop on his feet like a frog. We all laughed and copied One-Eye Grandpa's hopping.

Finally we arrived at the market. The loudspeaker was broadcasting "We Can't Sail without Chairman Mao as a Helmsman." Although the song was much distorted, I still recognized the voice. It was Wild Ginger's. I could never forget her voice after she sang the French songs in the wheat field. This time she sang with energy and encouraged people to join her.

It was ten o'clock. The morning market had already been cleared up. The ground had been swept and washed, but the stinky smell was still there. The street was blocked by the activists and the emptied booths now filled with children. The neighbors lined up on one side of the street like cornstalks in a field. The line extended about a half mile.

Two loudspeakers were hung from a tree. Three accordions and four drums were playing. A man with his back facing us was conducting. It was Evergreen. He let the band rest whenever he could.

In the center of the stage stood Wild Ginger. She kept waving at Evergreen, asking him to keep the band playing. She was in her army uniform and the red-star cap with all her hair tucked in. She could be mistaken for a man if not for her full chest. "Chairman Mao teaches us, 'For hundreds of years the scholars had moved away from the people, and I began to dream of a time when the scholars would teach the coolies, for surely the coolies deserve teaching as much as the rest.

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