Andy Zhang--Author's Official Web Site

Memories of an Eastern Sky

Chapter 1 -- GIVING BIRTH

Winter in my hometown, Harbin, is not just cold—it is deadly cold. People refer to Harbin as the Ice City. The Songhua River is covered by a deep layer of ice from November to March. Truckers drive their fully loaded trucks on top of the river instead of on the bridge. You have to wear several layers of clothing—a warm hat, a facial mask, thick gloves, and snow boots—just to go outside. Frostbite happens quickly and often without warning. The wind from Siberia feels like knives cutting into your skin, leaving behind a painful sensation even hours after you come inside. Snow is often more than a foot deep.

The winter of 1968 was one of the worst for my family.

Mama grew up in the warm southern part of China, and she never became used to the severe weather of Harbin. By the end of October, Harbin already had several snowstorms. The vast city, with over three million inhabitants, was frozen solid like a gigantic ice cube. Mama was in her late thirties and carrying a baby inside her.

Under the dim kitchen light, she was cooking dinner while my brothers were doing their homework, talking, and playing in the living room. Mama kept walking around the stove to keep her feet warm. She was in front of the stove because she loved the heat that radiated from it. Her petite figure was bigger than usual with layers of winter clothing and her pregnancy. The burning coal painted a layer of redness on her malnourished, pale face and made it look livelier. Mama tucked a thick strand of hair behind her ear, then looked at the clock and then peered into the darkness through the kitchen window. It was right after six o’clock in the evening and pitch black outside.

Baba and Mama’s first home in Harbin was a beautiful Russian house, which had belonged to a famous Russian merchant family. That family moved back to Moscow after the Communist Party united China in 1949. Because the house was relatively long commute from the center of the city, nobody else wanted to live there. Baba decided to live in the house to preserve its history.

The house had dark red brick walls, elegant round-arch windows, and tall ceilings. It was surrounded by lilac bushes. When spring came, the lilac bushes were rich with lavender-blue flowers. As soon as Mama opened the windows, the entire house would fill with the unforgettable fragrance of the flowers.

Mama was in her last stage of pregnancy. That evening she felt intense pains, as if she was injured herself. She put steamed buns on the bamboo platter and the stir-fried Napa cabbage in a large bowl. Then she called my oldest brother, Biao, to get ready for dinner. Biao brought the steamed buns and vegetables to the table. My second brother, Ming, and my third brother, Dong, sat around the table and started passing down the chopsticks and small bowls for everyone.

Since her stomach was growling, Mama was planning to join them for dinner, but suddenly she felt a rush of fluid soak her underwear. Her heart flipped upside down. Labor was imminent. The outside world was covered with ice and snow. Since the bus station was almost a mile from our house, it could take hours to go to the hospital on a day like this. It was common for buses stuck in deep piles of ice and snow to turn their wheels but move nowhere. Mama could not imagine going to the bus station on such a cold and snowy night just to risk having her baby on the bus.

She looked at the clock again as if that would bring my father, Baba, home sooner. Earlier that morning, Mama was notified by a Communist Party member that Baba was under political investigation. She had been so preoccupied by thinking of Baba on her way home from work that she had almost fallen on the slippery street corner that afternoon.

The weather worsened by the minute but Baba had not come home yet. As the pain intensified, Mama decided to deliver her baby at home. She quickly prepared a bottle of alcohol, a clean sheet, and a pair of sanitized scissors. She did not know when and if Baba would come home that night, and she really needed help. My oldest sister, Meili, had been forced to work in a remote farm hundreds of miles away, as had many teenagers, and my oldest brother, Biao, was an eight-year-old child.

“Biao,” Mama said in her southern Chinese drawl. “Please finish your dinner quickly. I need you to go to Aunt Su’s house and ask her to come here as soon as she can.”

Aunt Su Ouyang lived a few houses down and was an experienced midwife. Their family had also come from the southern part of China. She was a neighbor and a close friend of Mama. It was Mama’s southern custom to call her “Aunt Su.”

Biao sensed something unusual was happening from Mama’s urgent tone. He dashed out of our house into the roaring wind and falling snow. About fifteen minutes later, he came back with Aunt Su. Mama lay down on a Kang—a brick bed connected to a coal stove to share the heat. Many people in our area used them as their beds every night. Since the weather was almost always cold, the Kang got heated after dinner was cooked on the stove and it was comfortable to sleep on. A real bed would be too cold to touch; some people had never seen or used real beds in their lives.

Mama told Biao, “You guys are going to bed early tonight! Get your brothers ready for bed now. Don’t come out here and disturb us unless Aunt Su calls you.”

Aunt Su put two pillows behind Mama’s back to support her body. Mama was sweaty and hardly managed to catch her breath between the painful contractions. But she was a strong woman and she would not make any sound when she was in pain. But she hoped my father would come home soon. Every time Mama’s pain level went down, Aunt Su noticed she gazed out the door. It was a desperate look, like a drowning woman searching for someone to save her life. It was a gaze full of fear, anxiety, and helplessness.

Ming and Dong fell asleep within minutes, but Biao was still awake. He knew something was happening and he, suspected Mama was experiencing severe pain by the sounds of her heavy and irregular breathing.

“Don’t bite your lip too hard, Sister Wang,” Aunt Su said. “Your lower lip is bleeding. Hold on to my hand.”

As Biao started drifting to sleep, he heard Aunt Su’s voice again, “Push, again.” Biao was jolted awake with worries about Mama, having he once heard someone say that giving birth was one of the most painful and dangerous events for a woman.

But after about two hours of labor, it was over. The baby announced his existence with a loud cry. Aunt Su swiftly cut the umbilical cord with the scissors and cleaned up the baby with a large yellow towel.

“Sister Wang, you just had a baby boy. He is healthy and adorable,” Aunt Su said as she handed Mama the child.

The baby was a tiny, wet creature with a pink, wrinkled body. His eyes were half open. He had some furry hair on his head. A layer of white coating covered his body. There were Mongolian spots on his buttocks—like most Chinese babies.

Mama could not avert her gaze from her baby, for she knew she was witnessing something most precious and sacred, an experience that would soon become one of her fondest memories to relive and to cherish. Her fingers glided from his shoulder to his arm, and then gently touched his tiny hand.

Suddenly, as if she just woken up from a dream, Aunt Su asked Mama, “Where is your husband?”

“My guess is he is in trouble,” Mama’s lips trembled. “They took him to the detention center this morning and I don’t know if he will come home tonight.”

“Why?” Aunt Su sounded hoarse.

“They said he was one of the Feudal loyalists of the old bureaucrats. For a couple of months, I heard on the radio that the government is cracking down on the Feudal loyalists of the old bureaucrats,” Mama said with sadness, “They put the old bureaucrats in jail earlier this year, and now Chairman Mao is cracking down the loyalists.”

“I can’t keep up with all these fancy terms these days,” Aunt Su shook her head incredulously, “What does it mean to be a Feudal loyalist?”

“I don’t know much about it either. The newspaper says it’s people loyal to bourgeois and capitalist values. My husband was protecting Lu and other honest and hardworking people he knew. Some people in the party don’t like that. Once the Communist Committee says you are a loyalist, you are in serious trouble.”

“I think the whole world is mad. Your husband is such a wonderful man. I don’t understand why he could be in any trouble. He works so hard and devotes himself to his factory entirely. This is terribly unfair,” Aunt Su sighed. She was much taller than Mama and her angular face looked confused and angry. “We have too many campaigns since the Cultural Revolution began. Many of our old friends were in trouble. Did you hear that over twenty people were found dead last month at the reeducation camp? The guards forgot to heat the camp and many of them froze to death—including my high school friend’s husband.”

Mama’s face looked as pale as a sheet of white paper. Aunt Su realized she had talked too much and the information was frightening to Mama. “Let me cook something for you to eat. You must be tired and hungry.”

“I am. But more than that, I miss my oldest daughter Meili. It often takes more than twenty days for her to get my letter about the new baby. I worry about her day and night.”

“I wish she could continue her studying instead of working on such a remote farm that is hundreds miles away.”

“If Meili was here right now, you wouldn’t have to take care of everything for me. Thank you so much for coming here tonight. Our family owes you a great deal for what you have done. You should get back with your family soon.”

“Don’t worry about my family. My husband must have put the kids to bed by now. Let me make some soup for you.” Aunt Su stepped out of the room to the kitchen. There was not much food in the kitchen. She cut some cabbage leaves and some bean curd for soup. The coal stove was running low on coal so Aunt Su shoveled some on the top of the burning pile. In less than half an hour, the soup was ready. Mama began slowly drinking and savoring every spoonful of soup. Since food was so scarce, she had not eaten anything for almost the entire day.

Biao was too tired to listen any further, so he quickly fell asleep.

Then Mama and Aunt Su heard loud and intrusive knocking on the door. “Who could be coming to visit us this late? It is past nine o’clock already,” Mama murmured, putting her soup bowl down.

“Maybe it is my husband.” Aunt Su walked toward the door.

As soon as Aunt Su opened the door, gusts of freezing air blew inside. They both shivered. Goose bumps covered their bodies. Two men stood outside the house: their hats and coats were covered with snowflakes, their faces were purple, and they appeared noticeably worn out from their journey in the harsh weather, noticeably so. One of them was tall and thin with a goatee. The other man was shorter, older, and skinny like a flagpole. Aunt Su had never seen them before.

“Are you comrade Wang’s wife?” the older man asked.

“No,” Aunt Su said. “His wife is inside.”

“Can we come in? We need to talk to her,” the tall man stepped closer to Aunt Su.

Aunt Su looked puzzled, “She just had a baby and she is exhausted.”

The two men exchanged eye contact. “It won’t take long,” the older man said, and the two entered the house with swirls of cold air trailed behind them.

Mama could sense something was wrong with Baba through the cold air they brought inside. She picked up her newborn baby as if these men would take him away. She could feel her hair stand on end. As the men approached her step by step, Mama’s face grew pale and she began to shake.

“We are here to inform you that your husband is not coming home tonight,” the tall man said. “The Communist Committee decided to keep him overnight for questioning.”

“What happened to him? Is he alright?”

“We don’t know the details. We are just messengers,” the tall man replied in a condescending and stern tone as if he were talking to a criminal. Without another word, they stepped back out the door and vanished into the dark night, leaving puddles of melted snow on the floor where they stood as the only proof of their visit.

Looking at Aunt Su, Mama said, “I had a bad dream last night. In my dream, I was swimming in the beautiful blue water. My children were swimming merrily around me. Suddenly, a frightening river beast appeared. It has a huge head and cone-shaped black body. When it opened its mouth, I saw the enormous and glinting sharp teeth. I rushed to swim closer to save my children, but I was too late. The river beast began devouring my children. I could not scream in the water, my arms and legs were paralyzed, and my tears stung my eyes. Soon the river turned red and I could no longer see anything, not even the river monster. I had a terrible feeling after I woke up. Now my husband is in danger.”

“Don’t worry. It is just a bad dream.” Aunt Su came close to Mama and tried to comfort her. “He will be alright.”

Mama nodded, her eyes moistening. There was nothing she could do.

Aunt Su knew it was time for her to leave. “I will come back tomorrow and check on you, Sister Wang. The snow is as high as my knee. Let me put some more coal into your stove to help keep your family warm. Good night.”

After Aunt Su closed the door behind her, tears began to fall down Mama’s face as if they had accumulated for ages. Soon, her shirt was wet.

Throughout the night, each time the baby cried, Mama cried with him. She could not fall asleep and she could not help worrying about my father. In that quiet night, she could hear the clock ticking and the baby breathing. Each minute passed by slowly. She felt as if a heavy concrete slab was on top of her lungs. For the first time in her life, she feared my father would not come back home because something terrible was happening to him.