Liu Zhengyun
When she was young, my maternal grandma was a “star” in our local area—I grew up in the countryside—whose radiance spread for dozens of miles around. She was somewhat like Maggie Cheung is today. The only difference is that Maggie Cheung acts in movies and my grandma worked in the fields as a hired hand. My grandma’s exceptional farmwork was well known throughout our region. She stood only about five feet tall, yet she told me once that she could cut a whole row of wheat, one and a half kilometers from end to end, without straightening her back. Her legacy to me is this simple piece of advice: When harvesting wheat with a sickle, don’t even think of straightening up. If you do it once, you’ll soon want to do it a second time. If you do it three times, you’ll never want to bend down and get to work again.
Because of my grandma’s “star” status, all the landowners in our region respected her greatly. Every landlord was thrilled when he knew my grandma intended to sign a work contract with him. No matter who he was, he would bring his sons to be “adopted” by her. When I was little, I found that my grandma had a bunch of foster sons, all offspring of landlords. Wherever she went, there would be someone there calling her “Mom.” Naturally, later on, she was especially abhorred by those who fought against the landowners. She said the landlords were very nice people. “How could they be bad when their sons all call me ‘Mom’ when they see me?”
The White-Haired Girl, a movie about how peasants suffered at the hands of a landlord, was shown during the Cultural Revolution. She asked where it took place. I didn’t know, so I made a guess: probably Hebei. “Just because landlords in Hebei are bad,” she said, “doesn’t mean the ones in Henan are bad too.”
One day in 1992, two German men visited my grandma. I went with them. They chatted with her for a while, and it all felt very pleasant.
One of the Germans was extremely tall and could speak Chinese. The other was extremely short and didn’t speak Chinese.
My grandma asked the tall German, “Where do you live?”
He answered, “I live in north Germany.”
She then asked the short German, “And you?”
“I live in south Germany.”
“Then, how did you get to know each other?” my grandma asked them.
The two Germans seemed stunned: “That’s right, how did we come to know one another?”
I thought this was really a fundamental question.
After thinking for a long while, the tall German said, good-humoredly, “At the country fair.”
My grandma got it! “Oh, you met at the country fair.”
She asked, “Did you have ‘the Great Cultural Revolution’ in Germany?”
The two Germans were again stunned by her question: “Did we have it or not?”
“No. We didn’t.”
Hearing that, my grandma became upset, “Chairman Mao said we should have ‘the Great Cultural Revolution.’ How could you not to do it in Germany?”
The tall German thought for a long time, and then gave her another perfect answer. “We Germans are dumb. Since most of us didn’t speak Chinese, we missed what Chairman Mao said.”
My grandma persisted, “How much land does each German get?”
Although the tall German knew Chinese, he wasn’t particularly clear on the details of measurements, the difference between mu and fen, for instance. “Eight fen,” he responded.
My grandma sprang to her feet upon hearing this. Leaning on her cane, she circled around the tall German and said, “A big guy like you will go hungry.”
The German thought it over—he actually had plenty to eat. It suddenly came to him: “Grandma, I was wrong. It was eight mu.”
My grandma got worked up again. Circling around the tall German once more, she leaned on her cane and said, “Your wife must have her hands full!”
(2011)
VOCABULARY AND USAGE
方圆 |
fāngyuán |
surrounding area; radius |
这儿方圆十里无人居住。 |
无非 |
wúfēi |
simply; only |
乘这班车无非是快一点儿。 |
扛长活 |
kángchánghuó |
work as a farm laborer on yearly basis |
他不过是个扛长活的,却因为活干得好很受尊敬。 |
出众 |
chūzhòng |
outstanding |
他才华出众,品学兼优。 |
麦趟子 |
mài tàngzi |
rows of wheat |
这里田小,麦趟子也不长。 |
遗产 |
yíchăn |
legacy |
外祖母的遗产就是这句话。 |
签约 |
qiānyuē |
sign a contract |
她做事儿讲诚信不用签约。 |
认 |
rèn |
enter into a certain relationship; adopt |
她今天认两了个干儿子。 |
干儿子 |
gān érzi |
godson; honorary son |
|
喊 |
hăn |
call; address a person as |
他猜我年纪大些就喊我姐。 |
放 |
fàng |
project on the screen |
那时,放电影是个技术活。 |
矮 |
ăi |
short |
两个德国人,一高一矮。 |
愣 |
lèng |
be taken aback |
没想到外祖母会这样问,他俩一时愣住了。 |
幽默 |
yōumò |
humorous |
我喜欢丈夫很有幽默感。 |
赶集 |
gănjí |
go to a market/fair |
今天我们去县城赶大集。 |
搞(革命) |
găo (gémìng) |
start; make; carry on |
他说搞革命是为了帮穷人。 |
圆满 |
yuánmăn |
perfect; satisfactory |
孩子让她感到日子圆满。 |
笨 |
bèn |
slow-witted |
这德国人可一点儿都不笨。 |
划 |
huà |
assign; allot |
村里重新划了地,把去世了的人的地划给了新生儿。 |
通 |
tōng |
know well |
他通六国语言。 |
细节 |
xìjié |
detail |
事情的具体细节我不清楚。 |
精确 |
jīngquè |
precise; accurate |
科学的方法一定精确吗? |
亩 |
mŭ |
a unit of area (= 0.0667 hectares) |
外祖母觉得,一户人家八亩地太多,八分又太少。 |
分 |
fēn |
a fen (1/10 of a mu) |
|
噌 |
cēng |
whoosh! |
我一推门,小鸟噌地飞了。 |
拄 |
zhŭ |
lean on; support oneself with a stick |
他老了,腿脚不灵了,走路要拄拐杖。 |
拐杖 |
guăizhàng |
walking stick |
|
怕(是) |
pà (shi) |
I’m afraid; perhaps |
你的梦怕是难以实现了。 |
受累 |
shòulèi |
be put to much trouble |
我来晚了,让您受累了。 |
QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION
1. What’s your impression of the grandmother?
2. How is the story structured? How do different parts of the story relate to one another?
3. Do we need to know the reason for the Germans’ visit? Why or why not?
4. If “information” is not accurately communicated through their conversation, what is?
5. Why does the tall German go out of his way to humor the grandmother?
6. Why is it important that the story ends in a humorous “miscommunication”?
7. How does the story suggest that li and ren are not exclusively Confucian ideals?
1. 请说说你对外祖母的印象。
2. 故事的框架结构是怎样的?不同的部分之间靠什么连接?
3. 我们有必要知道德国人去那儿的公干吗?说说为什么。
4. 如果德国人和外祖母的交谈没有准确地交流信息,那他们的对话准确地交流了什么?
5. 为什么那位高个子的德国客人想方设法要让外祖母高兴?
6. 故事在幽默的“错误理解”中结束。为什么这样的结尾很重要?
7. 这个故事怎样表明“礼”和“仁”不仅仅是儒家的文化理想?
AUTHOR BIO
The author Liu Zhenyun is a well-known writer in China. Born in Henan in 1958, he developed a great attachment to the land and its people. He served in the military (1973–1978) before studying literature at Beijing University. Having received degrees from Beijing Normal University and Lu Xun Institute of Literature, he is now a professor of literature at Renmin University of China. His published works include eight full-length novels, four novellas, four collections of essays, and five screenplays. Four of his works have won major national awards, and his novel Cellphone (手机) was made into a film, a TV series, and a stage play. He adapted his 2009 novel Back to 1942 (温故1942) into a screenplay; the film, released in 2012, featured Tim Robbins and Adrien Brody. Liu Zhenyun received the highest cultural award from Egypt’s Ministry of Culture in January 2016. The award honors his literary impact, especially that of Ta Pu (塔铺), Cellphone, and A Word Is Worth a Thousand Words (一句顶一万句), on Egypt and the Arabic world. A serious writer of popular appeal, Liu Zhenyun earns some of the highest royalties in China. This story may give you an idea why. Based on real life, the story is Liu’s tribute to his grandmother, who features prominently in Liu’s writing.