Essays on villages where women stay behind

When I return to my hometown during the Qingming Festival, my hometown is immersed in silence. Without the smoke from the kitchen, the excitement of childhood is gone.

As soon as I entered the village, I heard no dogs barking, and even chickens and ducks were no longer visible. The countryside was so quiet that I didn't even dare to walk in.

Walking across the stone bridge, I saw the grandmother alone, her head lowered, washing old clothes under the creek. The stone bridge is still the same stone bridge, but it is covered with too much moss. Even Shiqiao is old, I can't believe it. Walk over and call her "Grandma" affectionately. The grandma was startled, turned around and saw me, and kept chasing me to ask who I was. I said I was a little tiger, and the grandmother shook her head. Even though I kept saying it, everything changed, everything changed. The eldest man passed away early, and the eldest grandma guarded a yard by herself.

The first family in Qiaodong is the aunt of Zhang Lixin's family, the second family is Daxi's sister-in-law, and the third family is the third aunt of Uncle Juntang's family. Further inside, there is Sister-in-law Xiuling, the eldest sister-in-law of Uncle Zheng Qi's family. None of their men are here. Fortunately, the children are already married. In several households, the doors and windows were locked jinglingly, and the thatch on the walls was very thick, as if it had grown old over time. When we were almost home, the second aunt from the West Courtyard hurriedly came all the way to say hello. As if I haven't been home for a long time, there is a kind of surprise and panic in the enthusiasm! Your mother talks about you many times every day, saying that you might come back during the Qingming Festival, and you really do.

In the distance, I saw the second eldest daughter of Brother Bing’s family, leaning forward and taking a nap under an old locust tree. The second aunt was so old that I almost didn’t recognize her, her face was deeply wrinkled with bitterness and vicissitudes of life. He ran over, knelt down and held the second aunt's hand tightly. The second aunt's hand was very cold. Looking at her, I didn't know what to say. Her son, Brother Xiaobing, is about the same age as me and was one of my best friends when I was young. He passed away ten years ago due to lymphoma. The second aunt's life was really hard. She lost her youngest son when she was in her thirties, lost her husband in her early forties, and had to give away her eldest son when she turned gray. I really don’t dare to think about many things, and I can’t help but burst into tears every time I think about them.

The deeper you go, the quieter it seems, so quiet that you can seem to hear your own uneven heartbeat. Looking east, the end of the road is very empty, as if a big broom has just swept it, without a single person. This is the only road in the village leading to the outside of the village. How prosperous and lively this road was back then! In those days, there was no day when this road was not bustling with cars and people. In the past, even the stone bridge outside the village was packed with people every night. The sound of laughter and frolic... can make a village lively until midnight. Now, it is somehow quieter, so quiet that people are not used to it.

Going further inside, I no longer dare to recognize several young wives. They stood far away and stared at me without speaking, as if they thought I was a foreigner. A village that was originally happy and joyful, at this time, makes people feel a little deserted and lonely.

When I got home, my mother had already tidied up the room, probably just waiting for me to come home as a guest.

The door was open, and my mother was packing something in the main room. Hearing my voice, he looked back for a long time before speaking. I'm back, my son! Just this sound seemed to make me cry. These are still salted duck eggs pickled in winter, you like to eat them. I don’t know if it’s broken or not, I’ve turned it over dozens of times and I never see you coming back. This time, they must be taken away, otherwise it will be really bad. Mother politely asked me to sit down, and then went to the pot house to cook. This time, my mother treated me as a guest again. Hot or not, thirsty or not, tired or not...a series of questions made me not sure which answer to answer. The mother in front of me seems to be too strange to me. Yes! I only go home once in a year or two, and I leave in a hurry when I come back. No wonder the people in the village look at me strangely.

My mother had already cut and folded the paper money to be burned during the Qingming Festival, and waited for me to go home and burn it on the mountain for my grandparents and father. The mountain is high and the road is long. My mother suffers from back pain and her blood pressure is high. I don’t want my mother to go with me. But my mother refused. My mother said that I couldn’t find the road, and I couldn’t find the place where my grandparents and father lived in the mountains...

When I was a child, I never visited any of the tops of the mountains; I never visited any of the creeks in the mountains. , I have never been there. I grew up drinking this mountain spring water and eating wild fruits from this mountain! This mountain stayed with me for eighteen years, until I went to study abroad. Over the years, I have never forgotten her. The mountains are getting old too! My mother is old, so old that it makes me feel sad.

In my memory, when the Qingming Festival comes, the hillsides are covered with luxuriant flowers blooming and the birds chirping. This time, the mountains were so quiet that even the birds didn’t know where they were. The Qingming Festival that has just emerged from the spring breeze seems to be a little cool. Walking all the way, it seems to be very familiar, but it is also very unfamiliar. Many of the familiar rocks are no longer there, and many of the familiar trees are no longer there. There are only messy pits that have been dug deeply, and wildly growing thatch. Under the thatch are irregularly arranged tombs that look like steamed buns.

Along the way, my mother told me about the graves one by one. Which one is the Grand Master, which one is the Grand Master, which one is Brother Bing... It seems that everyone is a familiar person. It made me feel cold and scared in my heart. Suddenly, it felt like they were still the same as before, standing in the distance and giggling. The thatch grows deep, deeper than my knees, and no matter how the new leaf buds grow, it seems difficult to cover up the old intention. This is my mountain! The mountain where I once grazed cattle and sheep, the mountain where I climbed up and ran down countless times! I have cut grass, collected herbs, and chiseled stones here... I stand on the highest peak here and can see far into the distance. One day in the future, I may return to this place, return to this team, and guard this forest with them that I once loved so much.

When I was going down the mountain, I met several women who came to burn paper money. At this moment, I seemed to feel uncomfortable.

In old customs, women should not go to graves to burn paper money. Visiting graves is what men should do. Now all this seems to have become a common thing for women. Even when paving roads, building bridges, and building houses, why do women have to stop for a day? Women have become the life of the village. The gravel road in front of the village was originally a dirt road, and it was also the only road leading to the outside of the village. Once it rains, this road will remain muddy until late autumn. Mother said that Aunt Sumei and Cousin Hu’s aunt collected thousands of dollars from door to door to lay the gravel road. After listening to it, I was not only filled with emotion, but also admiration! I admire these left-behind women in the village. When the men are away, they can do everything so well and make people feel at ease.

Aunt Sumei, who is not yet fifty years old, is seriously ill. Aunt Sumei was very strong. When she was young, she went to far away Beijing to sell vegetable baskets. After making money, he came back and renovated the earthen walls and courtyard. From the day she was diagnosed with the disease, she had been thinking about paving the dirt road in front of the village with a group of women left behind in the village. This wish was finally fulfilled in October 2015. The day after the road was paved, she went to the city hospital and stayed there for more than a month.

Coming down from the mountain, I went to see her. That day, she was fighting a serious illness. Her face was as yellow as paper, but she was in good spirits. Seeing me coming, he quickly got out of the wheelchair with a look of joy on his face. Praise me head on, you are such a good kid, you can always remember this home and this village. My aunt's words made my face feel hot. I go home for such a long time, and I don’t know what’s so good about me?

The aunt said that in our village, including my mother, there are still more than 20 old ladies and more than a dozen daughters-in-law staying behind. There are only a handful of men over sixty years old left. Most of the strong men went to far away cities, firstly to get out of this poor mountain village, and secondly to earn enough money to support the family. It is indeed a good thing that people are going to higher places, and it is also the general trend at this stage. Auntie said it very easily.

When I was a child, there were many people and many children. Even if five or seven people walked out, the number of people was not small. In the early years, if someone died in the village, a dozen men would have to carry a coffin up the mountain. Nowadays, if someone dies, it seems difficult to get five or seven men to carry the coffin. We had no choice but to ask people from neighboring villages to help us drag the huge coffin into the mountains on large wheels. Fortunately, those big coffins will gradually be replaced by small boxes.

When I was a kid, I used to cut stones from the mountains and sell them. There were more than twenty flatbed trucks lined up in a long row, and puffs of smoke passed over the dirt road in front of the village. The scene was really spectacular. There were shouts, laughter, and frolics, plus the crowing of chickens, the barking of dogs, the neighing of cows, and the neighing of horses... The whole village was rippling in a sea of ??excitement. Raising wheat fields, tamping bases, cutting rocks, digging rivers, building high walls... The hillsides, ditches and villages are all filled with men. Most of the active people are men. And now those who are busy in the fields are some women who keep the house, and some elderly mothers.

Walking from the front to the back of the village, I looked at the former primary school, the pond where lotus leaves were once fields, and the earthen platform where my uncle Hua Xiazi once sang... Everything is so familiar. Everything seemed so strange again. The school is gone, the pond is dry, and the earthen platform where the blind man sings has long been overtaken by weeds... Although the village is somewhat deserted, the women who keep the house never stop for a moment. They raise children, support the elderly, run the housework, and do the work that men have to do. They are strong, tolerant, capable, and have a sense of responsibility. Because of women, this village can be regarded as a village and this family can be regarded as a home.

Having a home is warm, but it only hurts the women who stayed behind. Society is developing, and this kind of village where women stay behind may be just a short-lived transitional form in the process of social development. I hope that such maternal villages will not become the post-era of rural villages.

When leaving the village, the village was a little smaller. And those mothers are so tall in my heart.