Trip to Guiyang----A Symphony of Three Generations Part I
Away from my perfectly predictable little world where I get to see the same people and have the same rituals almost everyday, I was once again brought to another poverty-stricken western province where "no sunshine lasts for more than three
days and no ground goes leveled in three feet." We lived in downtown Guiyang,
so the last part of the quote was a bit exaggerating to us, though we had to climb up and down many steps of an underpass that would lead us to a large underground Wal-mart. The Wal-mart and its square above the ground looked just the same
as ever. The only difference was that four years ago Grandpa and we had a terrible meal at the KFC there (In the end I gave up another attempt to eat more of
that hamburger and handed what was left to Grandpa, who gulped it down without a
word of complaint), but now he could barely walk as far as one-fourth of the distance that only took a young man 15 minutes on foot.
For the next few days after our arrival, with renewed memories of the sights and
sounds, I tried to make myself as comfortable as I could. For my work and entertainment, Uncle lent me his laptop with a wireless internet connection he would
usually use on business trips as a busy hydro-geologist. More heating appliances were equipped around the house in case I might not get used to the low indoor
temperature. Colder than locally usual, the weather was cooperative, too, to my northwestern standard. Humid and cool outside with no snow or chilly wind, it
was perfect for outdoor workouts. Nano-sized drops of rain kept floating down
most of the time, but we did have a very precious few moments when the sun reluctantly peeked over the clouds. "This winter must be warm and sunny as it was last year! God will make it so for my darling." Said Grandma in a cheerful and hopeful voice at each of these moments.
Growing up in a dry and windy northwestern region, I found it refreshing to have
a bit of damp, but Grandma always hated raining. Ever since Grandpa was assigned to "building railways" here due to a "mistake" he made in the Cultural Revolution, she hoped year after year that she could go back to her birthplace, where
homed all her siblings and the friendly climate.
Obviously she was quite wrong about how her life unfolded. It turned out, however, that she was also very wrong about the weather. Sleet advanced into weeks,
and the temperature was stuck to a point where black ice covered almost everything. First people believed it was the coldest year here in the south in 23 years,
then in 40 years, in 50 years, and finally beyond the record of history! Surprisingly, I had very little awareness of what this might mean, except that my daily physical exercises had to make way a few times for the slippery roads, until one day I woke up feeling goose bumps and taking in the news that the city was half paralyzed with a grade-2 shortage of power supply.
Gas in Guizhou is not so widely used as in Xinjiang. The resources for power supply are rather centralized and invariable. This power shortage came so suddenly and early that we did not have any boiled water prepared for the day! Soon after we had a take-out breakfast, it had become clear that this was my first time
in my life to stay in a building so cold that it felt as if there were no walls
at all! I tried to read with the battery-powered laptop, but it was impossible to sit still longer than 10 minutes. We couldn't get out for a warm-up walk either because of the sleet.
"No need to worry, dear." Said Grandpa, "The power will be back on by the noon,
I am sure. Just go and have more clothes on!" I could not in fact be less worried about myself than for Grandpa, who could at best stand up and shove his feet
for a few minutes before the pain in his legs got so intense that he had to stop and sit for the next few cold hours.
The noon came and went, but still no power. We ate our lunch in dismay. Mother
regretted that she used up all the hot water the previous day. Grandma was in
remorse for agreeing with our decision to come in the winter. Grandpa complained that I ought to wear thick woolen slippers rather than the plastic ones. I hated myself for not bringing any printed book or my MP4 player.
The ice rain, though, continued despite our desperation, raining drizzles so small that you wouldn’t notice if it weren’t for the wet pavement seen down from
the window, and yet destructive enough to help cut off urban necessities people
usually take without a mere thought that there are there.
Looking out up to the gray drizzling sky through the window bars, I was carried
away in my own reminiscent thought.
"How much I wanted go back to my hometown, you’ll never know, but as your grandpa worked on and finally decided to move us here, it was time for your uncle and
aunts to get education. Years later upon their graduations, they were offered
decent jobs here. Then they had families of their own, and we had to look after
our grandkids…one by one, until they reached an age for schooling. My hope of
going back home was getting smaller unnoticed until…POP, it was completely gone."
And gone with it were her chance to see her big brother one last time and her wish to visit us with Grandpa, as she once so earnestly believed she could do both
when her kids were grown…when they graduated…when they married…when grandchildren grew up…. And now on the right side of 80, she could go only as far as to
stretch her arms on a tree in the park downstairs or to buy groceries in the market nearby. She couldn’t and wouldn’t leave her husband alone in the house for too long! "He is the only living thing I can talk to in the house. Our children are too busy to come by everyday and do anything for us. So I have to make
sure your grandpa will not slip into bad health again. At least he can move himself now."
"If only I knew how to take care of my health when I was younger! All I thought back in those days was work for living. I hadn’t realized the price I am paying now." Came a recent memory of Grandpa’s constant regret.
"The Yangtze River will not flow to the west, and no man can live his life twice
.” Grandma would wisely put it.
Wrinkled faces were dissolved into younger ones before my mind’s eye.
"I don’t miss daddy; I just want him to buy me toys! Lots of them!" I remembered my five-year-old cousin saying one day when we just arrived.
"No, I am not happy at all! My mom’s nagging me nuts!" When asked whether he
felt happy, my 12 year old cousin gave me this answer with a scowl.
Aren’t there many other things we take for granted, regardless of age, without
any consideration or understanding of consequences? Mother will be always there
to cook and to be complained about. Father will always be the source for toys,
money, and anything---just name it! Children will always be put in priority so
that they get spoiled and self-centered in a comfortable environment in which what is common for others becomes the greatest difficulty they (along with their
parents) think they will ever encounter. There will be many hours ahead to finish what’s supposed to be done today, tomorrow, in the year, or in life. But there will eventually come one day when it dawns on us that we, by internal and external interventions, are no longer fixed to do what’s long been expected or hoped to do. It is often not until a thing is gone that you realize how important
it was to you.
"Aren’t you feeling cold, dear, standing by the window?" Grandpa said in an impatient voice with a frown, "Come over here, quick!" For an umpteenth time I answered no, but I obeyed him anyway. Just as I turned around I suddenly realized
how heavily Grandpa leaned on his sticks and how fragile he looked despite his
large built.
"What will my parents be like in another 20 years?" I thought as my spine was hit by a sudden shiver that had nothing to do with cold. They spent almost everything on me over the past 20 years, the most energetic time in man’s life, making sacrifices along the way, sacrifices which at that time were either incomprehensible to me or I thought were out of imbecility and responsibility. Finally in my adulthood I came to appreciate how wonderful my parents are both as my caretakers and as individuals who are connected in the society. I began to truly love them, and to get to know them. But how many 20 years a man has? And how much love can he feel from his children, who are bound to have careers and offspring of their own to love and selfishly devote themselves to?
Thanks to the power failure, I devoted a whole afternoon to solving my little cousin’s new set of jigsaw puzzle with Mother, and I discovered that she was a better jigsaw solver than I was!
Another major power failure happened one day later. Grade One this time though;
we were ready. Mother’s brother-in-law "grabbed" a huge bag of charcoal for us, and within an hour a fire was set in an old steel basin that was designed for
anything but charcoal burning! In a minute every corner and nook in the house
was filled with smoke, contributed by my older cousin, who was so happy with the
fire that he repeatedly poked and jabbed the charcoal, disobeying everyone’s instructions. As the day worn on, he carried his interest even further by grilling mutton with the younger boy. By the night I developed a sickening and persistent headache that did not go away until the next morning.
We totally had more than 20 hours of power failure. And that happened two weeks
ago. Now as I am writing this, there are thousands of families sitting in cold
and waiting for a jubilant cry like the one I gave at that miraculous moment when the bulbs were surged with light. There are even more people who can’t go home for the New Year. Never, ever have I been, though in sorrow for those poor rural villagers, better aware of and grateful for the greatest invention of mankind: Electricity. Thankfully, this is a renewable resource that lasts a lifetime
---for now.
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