A century of poverty

Chapter 37 Adding a Child

The good times didn't last long; the existing food lasted only a few months.

As the new year arrived, grain production was severely reduced, and the canteen had no rice to cook with. The leftover flour scraps were ground into flour to make cornbread as dry food, and the leftovers were soaked in salt water to make pickled vegetables.

Father's health hadn't fully recovered, and his poor appetite caused his condition to deteriorate, making him unable to work in the brigade. The brigade took care of him by letting him feed the brigade's livestock. The stable was in the old watchman's house. Every day, my eldest sister and second sister would fill the water tanks early in the morning and evening, remove the manure from under the livestock's feet, and then add fresh soil. Father would stay there, only adding hay and water to the livestock and taking care of them.

At this time, Jiang Guangliang, the uncle who had gone to Heilongjiang twenty years ago, returned. He came to his sister's house and told her the purpose of his trip: his wife had passed away two years ago, and he wanted to find a woman from his hometown to come to Northeast China to live with him.

Guests visiting the house also had to eat at the canteen. No one was allowed to cook for themselves if there was no grain at home. If smoke was coming from someone's chimney, people would rush over to check if they were hoarding grain.

Jiang Guangliang stayed at his sister's house for two days, but said he was going back before things were settled, as he simply couldn't stomach the food in the canteen. Before leaving, he said to his sister and brother-in-law, "I'm going back tomorrow. Let my eldest daughter come with me to Heilongjiang. There, you can eat as much white flour steamed buns as you want, and there's also porridge and vegetables."

After discussing it with my grandmother, my father agreed to let my eldest sister go to Heilongjiang, where my maternal grandfather, my maternal uncle's family, and a large group of cousins ​​live. Why should she go hungry at home?

The canteen is getting worse and worse; even the leftover rice noodles are gone. People are getting weak from eating the wild vegetable porridge.

The death of any pig or large livestock weighing over 100 jin (50 kg) must be reported. When a sheep died in the brigade, the canteen cooked it and distributed a little to each family—really, just a tiny bit! Out of the entire village, there was only one skinny sheep, and my family received a little bit of sheep intestines.

My second brother, born in 1955 or 1966, was a little over a year old. He had lost his mother's milk, and was thin with a long head and a big belly. He cried from hunger, his belly button bulging with each cry. He knew that the little bit of sheep intestines he was sharing was "delicious." Between sobs, he kept whining, "I want hypodes, I want hypodes." Seeing how pitifully hungry the child was, his mother went to the yard, grabbed a handful of sorghum stalks, lit them on the stove, and warmed them with an iron spoon before feeding them to my second brother.

The weather was dry and cold, with no sun and no wind.

Mom dragged her heavy body, carrying a winnowing basket and a sieve under her arm, while Auntie carried a bag of chopped sweet potato vines between her ribs.

They went to the millstone on Xidang Street, which had a wall but no roof. The two of them put down their things, rubbed their hands, breathed on them, spread the seedlings on the millstone, and weakly pushed them. After pushing for a while, they swept them together, sieved them in a winnowing basket, put them in a bag, and then poured them onto the millstone to roll them.

"Sit down and rest for a while, I'm exhausted." With that, Mom sat down on a stone beside the millstone. Her aunt sat down beside her too: "Sister-in-law, you're making starch from rice seedlings? Do you think this stuff is even edible? It's only been a little over a year, how come it's changed so quickly?"

Mom: "What's wrong? Why are you asking me about this humble temple? I'm just a poor person. We can't just think about eating dry food in a year of good harvest. There are also years of famine. If we can get through this winter, and God grants us a good year in the new year, then we won't be afraid."

Auntie: "This winter has been tough. Several old landlords in Wangzhuangtuo couldn't eat this 'substitute food,' and several of them have died. Your third aunt is always sighing at home, saying there's nothing we can do these days."

Mom: "Oh? I remember now, Fan Guiyan in the east room is several months pregnant? She's showing."

Auntie: "She's about the same as you, but she never worries and is always singing and laughing."

The mother leaned on a stone to get up: "After we finish pushing, we still have to go back and do it." The two of them pushed for a while longer until they finished crushing the seedlings.

Back in the canteen, they wrapped a piece of sweet potato the size of a fingertip inside, making it into a stuffed bun. Everyone brought their food back to their tables, and Zhang Mingzhi stood at the canteen entrance watching, not letting anyone leave until they finished eating.

People finished their food as if swallowing medicine and came out. Zhang Pingzhi, who was walking north, asked Zhang Pengzhi, a rich peasant, "Second Brother, did you manage to eat this meal?"

Zhang Pengzhi replied, "It goes uphill and downhill in one go."

When no one was looking, the four-year-old third sister took the steamed bun out, went out of the canteen, went to the gate of the aunt's new courtyard, broke the bun open, put the little bit of sweet potato filling in her mouth, and threw the skin at the foot of the wall.

Now, even if you have money, you can't buy good food. Third Grandma can't get used to this kind of life and has lost her former status at home. She's not happy even after moving to her youngest son's place. The two of them don't get along well to begin with, and her youngest son even dares to expose her shortcomings.

That day, after returning from lunch at the canteen, she followed her second sister-in-law to this side, entered through the second gate, and stopped by the wall. Second Grandma was nearly sixty, but not a single hair was gray. Third Grandma, actually nine years older than her second sister-in-law, was much more haggard, already an elderly woman with white hair. Having lived most of her life, she felt she had wronged her second sister-in-law in many ways, and today she wanted to speak her mind to her. Second Grandma went to the house and brought two stools, placed them on the stones, and the two sat down.

Third Grandma: "It's warm here, let's bask in the sun and chat."

Second Madam: "What's there to say?"

Third Grandmother: "Over the years, I've always felt I was better than you, but now that I'm old, I'm no match for you!"

Second Madam: "In what way are you inferior to me?"

Third Grandma: "Your son and daughter-in-law are so filial to you, and you still call the shots. Look at me, from the west room to the east room, who listens to me? I won't even mention my daughter-in-law, just look at Tie Tou. He's been suffering for so long. I told him that before, he could always eat whatever he wanted, but now he can't even get enough to eat. Guess what he said? He said, 'Everyone else can endure it, but you can't? When you were young, you stole grain and rice. What more do you want now!' Can you believe how heartbroken I am? I can't take it anymore. I won't live much longer. I've wronged you in many ways before, please don't hold a grudge. Today I'm telling you what's on my mind. You're better off than me! Live well!"

Second Grandmother: "Look at you, don't say such discouraging things. The famine will eventually pass. Don't lose hope. What's past is past, let's not talk about it anymore. We're still waiting to celebrate our 80th birthday."

Third Grandma shook her head with a wry smile.

Zhao Si, the old man from Zhaozhuangtuo, died of tuberculosis and malnutrition. Third Grandma didn't survive the winter. Eighth Brother from Beiyuanzi also died in this famine.

Even so, it did not delay the arrival of new life. In mid-February of 1960, my mother gave birth to my fourth sister, and my aunt Fan Guiyan gave birth to her first daughter, "Daizi".

The canteen prepared a "postpartum meal" for the women who had given birth: a bowl of sweet potato noodle soup. The second sister and eldest brother couldn't carry it back, so their father wove a frameless basket out of willow branches to hold the bowl, and the two sisters carefully carried it back. Reaching the west wall, the second sister called out, "Mom! Mom!" "Yes!" Mom answered, coming out and opening the west corner gate of the south courtyard, bringing in this precious postpartum meal. She couldn't bear to finish it all, leaving half a bowl for each of the two children. "I'm full, you two can drink the rest," she said. The second sister and eldest brother picked up their bowls and drank it all in one gulp.