Spider Eaters by Yang Rae

Author:Yang, Rae
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780520276024
Publisher: University of California Press

15

Semi-transparent Nights

If I could fall asleep in the middle of a street far away from home in 1966, how could I suffer from insomnia the next year when I was back home? It seems unthinkable. But this was indeed what happened. After I was in bed three or four hours but sleep was still playing hide and seek with me, I would reason with myself.

Last year, that was last year. Now is now. Last year Red Guards were Chairman Mao's brave young generals, charging the enemy line ahead of millions. There was so much to do and never enough time. If a day had forty-eight hours, we still had no time to sleep. Now there's nothing for us to do. A real turnaround, one hundred and eighty degrees. “Things always change into their opposites.” Chairman Mao is right. Old revolutionaries have become capitalist-roaders. Old Red Guards are now fighting against the Cultural Revolution, for the sake of their parents. Not all of them. But many are like that. Shame on them! Nowadays we are expected to become middle school students again. “Make a revolution by resuming classes,” Chairman Mao said. But what classes are there for us to go to? The teachers have all learned their lessons: those who do nothing make no mistakes. So no one can accuse them of “treating students as their enemies” later on.

Enemies . . .

“Who are our enemies? “Who are our friends? This is the most important issue for a revolution.”

Revolution . . . Was the second trip I made in 1966 for revolution or was it for sightseeing? Well, the truth is, originally I went to Mount Hua, the gorgeous Taoist mountain in central China, for sightseeing. But later I made a revolution there anyway. All because of those old Taoists. If they hadn't provoked me, I might not have . . . They thought they were smart, using the Red Guards’ own tactics to deal with a Red Guard. The questionnaire they made me fill out on top of the mountain, that was definitely a big mistake.

How many questions was I supposed to answer? Sixty? More? The class status of my parents, paternal and maternal grandparents, uncles, and aunts. Their names, ages, professions, work units, and political affiliations. If any of them had joined reactionary organizations, had other historical problems, or had overseas connections . . . It went on and on. Damn it! Just for one night's stay in their temple, for a room with no fire in December. The quilt they gave me was so cold and damp—I shivered in it all night. The chill penetrated my bones. Outside the window, mountain wind boomed. Huge pine trees were rumbling. Overnight ten thousand tons of northwest wind must have rolled over the mountain peaks.

Unable to sleep a wink, I ground my teeth and cursed the Taoists in my head: Who do you think you are? Officials setting up a file for me or police in public security bureau? How dared you

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