"The Past Is Hard as Smoke 31" My "Nostalgia" (1)

Introduction: Nostalgia is like a shallow river. I am at this end, and my hometown is at the other end...

The death of a poet not long ago caused great concern among Chinese people at home and abroad. Pay attention, he is the Taiwanese poet Yu Guangzhong, the author of a short poem "Nostalgia". The descendants of China, whose civilization has been dominated by farming for thousands of years, are so attached to and unable to let go of the land they have cultivated for generations.

Due to well-known reasons, thousands of passionate men left their homeland in the 1930s, 1940s and 1950s for the liberation and construction of New China, and took root in their foreign lands and gave birth to the second and third generations. generation or even the fourth generation, objectively causing a major immigration in the modern history of the Chinese nation. Let’s just talk about my father. He joined the army in 1946 and left Pi County, Shandong Province (now Pizhou, Jiangsu Province). He transferred from Nanjing in 1956 and came to Hubei in 1958. I have been living in Xinxialu for as long as I can remember. I only write the words "Yakou, Pi County" in the birthplace column every time I fill out the form. "Nostalgia" basically didn't feel like anything to me before I was 18 years old. It felt like it was far, far away, but everything changed when I returned to my hometown for the first time.

After the Spring Festival in 1973, I stayed in Linyi for half a month because I wanted to be a soldier (see the previous article on Linyi Soldiers). The second sister-in-law took a walk-behind tractor hauling goods from the brigade to visit relatives in Laiyi. After breakfast on March 14, 1973, I followed the second sister-in-law back to her hometown on the tractor. The tractor driver also had the surname Bai, so we are related to her. The second sister-in-law held a baby in her arms, and her head was wrapped tightly in a towel. I turned up the fur collar of my military coat and shrank my head. We faced the cold wind and the white smoke from the tractor as we bumped southward for about three days with our backs facing forward. I arrived at a county town an hour later. I thought I had arrived when I heard people all over the street speaking with the same accent as my father. The tractor driver said this was Cangshan County and there was still half the way there! I was excited when I heard the word "Cangshan". This name is so familiar. I heard my father mention it more than once. During the Anti-Japanese War, in order to commemorate Zhao Bo, Secretary of the Lunan District of the Communist Party of China and political commissar of the Lunan Military Region, it was renamed Zhao Bo County. . My father's resume shows: In 1948, he served as deputy instructor of the Cangshan County Brigade of the Shandong Lunan Military Region. This is the place where he fought back then!

More than two hours have passed and my hometown is getting closer and closer. Listening to my second sister-in-law and relatives’ introduction in thick dialect, and looking at the rows of villages and farmland on the roadside, I feel strange. It feels familiar and feels like déjà vu. This is the place where my father was born and grew up! This is where my roots lie too! The names of my grandfather and father on the family tree will also have the names of me and my descendants in the future. This is the innate idea of ????carrying people to pass on the family line from generation to generation! It was a feeling I had never had before when I returned to my mother's hometown. At three o'clock in the afternoon, we finally arrived at Yakou Town, Pi County. Jakou is located at the junction of southern Shandong and northern Jiangsu. It is named after the mouth of the Jia River. It is an ancient town beside the Beijing-Hangzhou Grand Canal. There is a Jakou Old Street. It was the seat of the Jakou Commune when I went there. Since ancient times, there has been a saying that "Jinyakou Yinyao Bay, eighteen miles long street", the ancient legend of "Qianlong Yinkou recognized his godmother" has been talked about by people here for generations, and later in the TV series "Bronze Teeth and Iron Teeth Ji Xiaolan" There really was Qianlong's godmother, the old lady Bai. The Bai family in Pizhou has always been a big family in Jakou.

To the west of Sakou Old Street, there is a Dazhuangzi consisting of several natural villages, mainly with the surnames Bai and Hu. The ancestors of the Bai family are said to have migrated from Shanxi during the Ming Dynasty. For generations, people have made a living by sailing boats on the canal. At the end of the Wen River in Jakou, we have a family of six families (customarily called Lao Liufang). Because there were more and more people, the second, third, and fourth-bedroom houses (also called small third-bedroom apartments) of my grandfather's generation moved from Wenhe Village to the northwest corner of Zhuangzi. In order to withstand the floods of the Yahe River every summer, a high platform was built called Baitai Village (later called Baiyuan Village). As the name suggests, families surnamed Bai lived on the high platform. We are the descendants of Bai Jinghan, who lives in the north of the terrace. My grandfather, Bai Anchen, is the eldest of three brothers, the second is Anfu, the third is Anjun, and there are three younger sisters.

My grandpa was born in 1883. He is a tall man with a loud voice and a bold personality. He attended a private school for a few years and also knew a little bit about Chinese medicine. When I was born in 1955, my grandpa went to Nanjing to visit me and brought me a silver dollar. Long life lock.

As the old saying goes: "You can't be poor for five generations, and you can't be rich for three generations." After the three brothers of my grandfather separated, their family situation got better and better. They purchased farmland and built a courtyard wall to prevent bandits. They not only had wealth but also people, and their grandparents raised them. There are five adult brothers, in order: Bai Jundian, Junying, Junqing, Junxiang, and Junchang (my father). My father was born in 1924, the same age as Bai Fuyun, the eldest son of my second uncle (Jun Ying). Because he was the youngest son and was pampered by his parents, brothers and sisters, he was a willful naughty boy since he was a child. Fortunately, he went to private school for a few years. But the good times didn't last long. One summer night when my father was in his teens, it was very dark. There were dogs barking outside the courtyard wall and someone shouted "The bandits are coming." After a while, the courtyard door was knocked open and someone rushed in. In a panic, As soon as a gunshot rang out, the man fell to the ground. Everyone quickly closed the courtyard door and lit up the lights, and they were shocked. It turned out that the boss was accidentally injured. It was already a misfortune for the family, but Hu Yingchang, a big landowner in Hulou Village, Zhuangzi, had long been jealous of his grandfather's fortune, so he instigated the eldest family member to file a lawsuit with the government, because a family that did well in filing a lawsuit lost two generations. In 1943, Brother Fuyun joined the revolution with Bai Liangyu (formerly known as Bai Junying) from the first room and worked as a correspondent for Uncle Liangyu. The second uncle and aunt took the second brother Futian out to beg for food. After returning, they have been living in Wenheyang. My father said many times during his lifetime: It's a good thing that we were prodigal, otherwise the land reform would have been composed of landlords, and we wouldn't have come out to participate in the revolution.

In early 1938, a "Taierzhuang War" occurred not far to the north of our hometown that shocked China and the world. Dakou was also one of the auxiliary battlefields, just at Xidukou. My father once said that the war was so brutal that the crop fields It was full of corpses that both China and Japan had no time to dispose of, and guns could be picked up everywhere. When the country was ruined and the family was in ruins, under the influence of his third uncle Bai Liangyu, his father began to do some work beneficial to the revolution, such as sending information to the underground party, and officially joined the revolution in 1944. Father's file records: In 1944, he joined the militia in Wenheyang Village, District 5, Pi County, Shandong Province and served as captain. From early 1945 to May 1946, he served as captain of the Dakou Township Militia Joint Defense Brigade. In March 20, 1946, he was introduced by Zhang Shusen and Wang Guangliang Joined the party and joined the army in Pi County, Shandong Province in June 1946 as squad leader and division chief... According to my father, he joined the army with more than thirty militiamen, so he was assigned to the platoon level as soon as he arrived in the army. My father always said that he was from Shandong during his lifetime. I think there may be three reasons: 1. Both the language and living habits are the customs and customs of Shandong, which is completely different from the misty Jiangsu in people's impression; 2. He When he was a soldier, Pi County belonged to Linyi, Shandong Province. After liberation, Pi County belonged to Xuzhou and was placed under the jurisdiction of Jiangsu (it was said that Xuzhou was too poor and Jiangsu took over the area); 3. He may have thought that Shandong people were generous and in line with his character. It’s funny to say that my family always thought that I was from Shandong. When she went to the police station to register her son’s household registration in 1982, the household registration she filled in turned out to be Shandong.

After arriving at my hometown, my second sister-in-law sent me to the second uncle’s house in Wenheyang Village. The old man was nearly seventy years old. He was tall and had a bronze skin. When he saw me, Hou's weather-beaten face was filled with a smile. "My nephew is here," he said in a very thin voice, and his gray goatee curled up and down. The second aunt, with her little feet, held my hand and touched my face, repeating in her mouth: "Ah, my mother!" Looking at the old man's kind face, I felt like I was seeing a relative who had passed away long ago and had never met before. Like grandma, tears are about to flow out. Looking around, I couldn't help but be surprised. More than 20 years after liberation, my hometown is still so poor. To describe it as a house with bare walls is not an exaggeration. It is said that the courtyard is surrounded by adobe bricks. When you enter the open-wind courtyard, there is a side building next to the three thatched-roofed mud houses. There is a large stone mill in front of the door, and a chicken coop is surrounded under the millstone. There is no wooden furniture in the living room. There is a dining table made of adobe and covered with plastic film. The two mazaars next to it rarely sit on it. The old people eat squatting. Behind the dining table, there is a long wooden board on the adobe wall against the wall. Bowl with an image of Jesus enshrined in the center. If you believe in Catholicism, you don’t even need to buy incense. I really admire the church’s penetration and influence, because Brother Futian, whose parents are religious and is a party member and cadre, is very embarrassed and no matter how hard he tries to persuade him, it’s no use. On the right side is the sleeping room of the old couple. There is no door panel and just a curtain. There is a bed propped up with tree sticks and ropes next to the dining table for me to sleep on.

There was a fair in Yakou the next day, and the second uncle said that my sister Fu'e, who was married to Dawangzhuang, was coming to the fair and wanted to introduce me to my relatives.

The year before my father joined the army, my loving grandparents bought him a woman who had fled from Henan and gave birth to my half-sister. After my father joined the army, my sister first followed him. My grandparents were later adopted by the third elder couple who had no children. After liberation, my sister briefly returned to my father, but during the three years of natural disasters, she was brought back to the countryside by the fourth elder. I was only five years old when my sister left. I only heard my grandma say that she was very wild by nature. I vaguely remember that when we were in Longjiao Mountain in Daye, she took me out to play after dark and was scolded by my mother when I came home. My sister came the next morning. When I saw my sister, I couldn't help but feel a tremor in my heart. It was an innate feeling of blood connection. It was a real family relationship where blood is thicker than water! Although they barely lived together. She was holding a child in her arms and holding a basket in her hands. She was wearing a homespun blue flower headscarf. She was of medium height and had an oval face with curved eyebrows, big eyes and a high nose. Her weather-beaten face still showed her beauty. In Beijing in the 1980s, Yichuan's mother told me: "Before your sister got married, your cousin Xiangzhong and I met her in our hometown. She was as beautiful as the person in the painting."

"You and your family don't want me anymore," my sister said with a slight smile, looking at me with bright eyes filled with grievance, "Is my eldest son and my mother okay? My sisters are all okay!" My sister said again. Said ("Big" is the name of father in his hometown). After saying that, my sister divided the snacks and candies I brought into several portions, and put two of the apples she bought last time in each portion. I carried them in my travel bag. When I went out, my sister held the baby in her arms and hooked it with the instep of her foot. As soon as she picked up the basket on the floor, she held it with her arms. Her movements were vigorous and capable in one go. The expression on her first sentence and this action have been engraved in my memory for many years. I thought at that time: I must help my sister if I have the opportunity in the future. Make up for some of my father's regrets.

My sister took me to see the third uncle and aunt first. They are both big men and have never had children. My sister is their adopted daughter. The two elders live in the old house of Baitaizi. The light in the house with earthen walls and thatched roof is very poor. , the old man also pointed to a thatched house next to him and said, "This is your big one!" It turns out that I still have real estate in the countryside. Then I went to see Brother Fuyin, Fusheng, and Fudude. They all asked: How are you, my fifth uncle? (Father ranked fifth). The eldest child in my cousin's generation is about the same age as me, but they call me uncle, which makes me feel embarrassed. This is the clan rule and local custom, because many people in my elder family call me that. My brother and I also went to visit Uncle Junxiu (he is the eldest son of Mr. Anjun, the junior third roommate). The uncle was an old party member in 1938 and retired early due to health reasons. The living conditions are better in the village. He asked me to arrive in a while. They live at home.

The five seniorities of my ancestors in my hometown are: Zhen, Jing, An, Jun, and Fu. There is no order going down. In the 1950s and 1960s, the sixth generation was born one after another, and there was no font size. Junxiu The uncle called several elders in the clan and called Brother Futian to discuss a name. I heard that it was Futian who suggested that in order to be loyal to Chairman Mao, he should be called "Zhong". The eldest brother of the second brother was named Zhongze. I am from the generation with the character "福", and my father probably didn't pay much attention to this at that time. Except for my sister, our brothers and sisters were not named according to their generation. Uncle Liangyu and other uncles outside also did not name their children according to the generation with the character "福". name. Speaking of which, relatives within Wufu are not very far away. If they are in other places, they are very close. I always think: It would be great if we have relatives in our local area. Our huge company has tens of thousands of people in Xinxialu. There are only three or four families with the surname Bai, and they say they were the same family five hundred years ago.

Although China in the 1970s was "singing and dancing" everywhere, poverty was still the main theme. The production efficiency of big pot rice in rural people's communes was low, and floods occurred frequently in hometowns. The land was barren and did not allow for other economic activities other than growing food. Crops lead to greater poverty year after year. At that time, there was a saying "is it enough for three hundred and sixty", which means that each person only needs 360 kilograms of grain a year to eat. That is unprocessed wheat, millet, sweet potato and other cereals. A pound weighs 360 pounds! Often the common people are unable to meet such demands, so during slack periods women go out with their children to beg for food to supplement the family income. People at home only eat two meals a day, one of which is very thin.

In the first few days, I didn’t know why I was the only one eating every morning after getting up early. The two old people said they were used to not eating. Because people from poor hometowns are very old, it seems that they are less than fifty years old when asked by an old man in their sixties or seventies.

The staple food in my hometown is pancakes. I soak wheat, potatoes, dried rice, etc. in water. After getting up early the next day, I grind them on the stone mill in the yard and weigh the pancakes. Pushing the grinding mill is a strenuous job, and I just put it to use. Although it is still March, I sweat every time when pushing. The washbasin filled with grains is placed on the stone grinding wheel. The second aunt is using a long-handled ladle to remove the water from the basin next to the grinding wheel. Dig it out and pour it into the grinding hole. As the millstone rotates, the paddle water continuously flows from the grinding hole into the bucket. Spreading pancakes is a technical job. A pancake pan with a diameter of one meter is supported on the ground with bricks. Throw a few handfuls of grass into it and start the fire. Then scoop a spoonful of paste into the center of the pancake, and then quickly scrape it with a two-foot-long bamboo blade. Open a thin layer to cover the entire griddle, then use a bamboo slice against the bottom of the griddle to lift up the pancake, which is as thin as kraft paper, fold it in half, then fold it in half and put it into the basket. It can be spread out for more than 20 to 30 pounds at a time and eaten for more than a week, and a pot of soup is cooked for each meal. (very thin porridge) just (eat) pickles and hard pancakes. The pancakes are soft and delicious when they are first spread out. Every time, I have to spread out an egg and leek pancake for me.

When I was at the second uncle’s house, several brothers and sisters-in-law specially invited my sister and me to have a meal at home. They spent all their money and took out all the things that they would normally be reluctant to eat. The third uncle, aunt, brother and sister-in-law all come to call me when they are selling pancakes, and they often send a few eggs to the second uncle. There are two traditional pickles in every meal in my hometown. One is salted beans, which are similar to the tempeh in the south. The production process is similar. The only thing is that after the soybeans are fermented, they are stirred and dried with ginger foam, red pepper, pepper noodles, etc.; It is paste (pronunciation) pickles (also called black pickles). The raw material is a vegetable called Lageta, which seems to be the same as the kohlrabi in the south. It is pickled in the first year and then simmered in a large iron pot over slow fire overnight. It tastes soft, sweet and salty. Much more delicious than kohlrabi. One night, I suddenly heard a rapid crow and thumping sound from outside the house. I quickly shouted softly: "Second uncle, someone stole the chicken." "Ouch! That's incredible." The second uncle yelled and rushed out, and I followed him out. There was an old hen with chicken feathers all over the ground, its throat was bitten off and its belly was hollowed out. It died on the ground. It turned out that the henhouse door was not closed tightly and a weasel came in. Watching the chicken that was laying eggs die, the second uncle sighed repeatedly: "It's ruined, it's ruined" (it's over). The next day I had a wonderful meal of chicken.

During the Qingming Festival in my hometown, ancestor worship was far from being as popular as it is now. Almost no one visited the graves and there was no place to go to the graves. It was probably because of me. The second uncle took me to the south of the Jah River. A crop field. "Your grandpa is almost here. The land in the People's Commune was owned by the collective, and later the streets were opened to level all the graves." After the second uncle said this, he kowtowed to the ground, and I kowtowed three times as well.

At the second uncle’s house, my cousin Zhonghua followed me all day long. He was less than ten years old at that time and was Brother Futian’s second son. He came to my grandfather’s house as soon as he had some delicious food. After eating, he listened I told ancient and modern stories and outside things. The first time I heard him say the words "Prince Norodom Sihanouk", I almost laughed and my stomach hurt. He couldn't fully recognize the words when he first went to school. He was listening to the radio. The pronunciation is mumbled in the Pi County dialect, which is quite funny even now when family members speak it in dialect. The child was greedy and the last few packets of halva that I brought from Huangshi were unfinished and we lay on the slope of the canal embankment and basked in the sun to enjoy them together. I remember once I borrowed a bicycle and took him for a ride. The dirt roads in the countryside were too bad. I rode faster and he jumped off the bicycle and climbed back on again and again. In the early 1990s, he worked for Taierzhuang Urban Management Bureau and a few of his captains went on a business trip to Huangshi. He brought a bottle of Taierzhuang liquor to my house for dinner. My uncle and nephew got drunk when he talked about things in his hometown. In 2011, I drove a car with my mother. , my lover, my eldest sister, and my brother-in-law returned to our hometown. Brother Futian, who retired as the mayor of Taierzhuang Town, picked us up to visit Taierzhuang and stayed for one night. We were all hosted by Zhonghua. I finished writing the last article "The Story of a Soldier in Linyi" and gave it to Brother Futian. I made a phone call and learned that Zhonghua was in Beijing with his family to see a doctor. He quickly contacted him and agreed to drive to Tiantan Hospital to pick them up at home for dinner. He also made an appointment with Hu Yichuan, but he left a day early and said he would come back after the Spring Festival. I will definitely visit my uncle in Beijing.

January 12, 2018? Eruning in Beijing

(To be continued)

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