Life and Death are Wearing Me Out

revolutionary format, creating new sights and sounds, Jinyang brought smiles to the people’s faces
    The rich peasant Wu Yuan, who played the two-stringed huqin, was brought into the troupe of musicians. So was Hong Taiyue, with his rich musical background as a singer. He served as conductor by banging on his glorious ox bone. Even the bad elements, whose duty was to sweep the streets clean of snow, hummed to the music emerging from the compound as they worked.
    On New Year’s Eve, my brother and Huzhu braved snow to travel to the county town. They left the village as roosters were greeting the dawn; they returned at dusk the following day. They went by foot but returned on an East Is Red caterpillar tractor made in the city of Luoyang. Given its high horsepower, it was intended for farm work — plowing and harvesting — but had been appropriated by Red Guards for transportation. Now nothing could stop them from traveling where they wanted to go, not storms and not muddy roads. The tractor crossed the frozen river into the village rather than try to negotiate the unstable stone bridge, then drove down the main road to our compound. It traveled worry-free in high gear and, gas pedal pushed to the floor, nearly flew down the road, its caterpillar tracks sending snow and mud flying and leaving two deep ruts in the ground. Great puffs of green smoke were expelled from its overhead exhaust pipe like brass cymbals that circled and made loud, echo-producing crashes, drawing terrified shrieks from sparrows and crows that flew off to points unknown. People watched as my brother and Huzhu jumped down out of the cab. They were followed by a young man with a thin face and melancholy look. His hair was cut short, he wore a pair of black-rimmed glasses, his cheeks twitched, and his ears were red from the bitter cold. He had on a once-blue uniform turned nearly white from many washings; displayed prominently on the breast was a large Chairman Mao badge, while low down on his sleeve hung a Red Guard armband. One look told you he was an old-line, battle-scarred Red Guard.
    My brother told Tiger Cub Sun to summon everyone with his bugle. Blow the general assembly call. Actually, there was no need for the bugle, since every villager who could walk was already there and had surrounded the tractor. Just seeing this powerful giant was not enough; the chatter was coming fast and furious. One self-designated expert pointed out: Weld a turret on top of that thing and add a cannon, and you’ve got a tank! The sky was darkening; a sunset blazed in the west, an array of pink clouds that promised snow for tomorrow. My brother issued an emergency command to light the gas lamp and build a bonfire. He would be making an announcement regarding a happy event. Now that he’d issued his orders, he leaned over to converse with the old-line Red Guard. Huang Huzhu ran into her house to have her mother fry some eggs, one for the man talking to my brother, the other for the driver, who was still sitting in the tractor. Both men politely declined the invitation to be guests in their house and refused to go into the office to warm up. So Wu Qiuxiang, who should have known better, came out carrying bowls with steaming eggs, Huang Hezuo in tow. She glided like one of those vamps you see in movies. The Red Guard refused the offer, a look of disgust on his face. Jinlong snarled under his breath: What do you think you’re doing? Take that back inside!
    Something was wrong with the gas lamp, which was spewing yellow flames and black smoke, but the bonfire blazed, the sap on the green pine limbs crackling and spreading a sylvan fragrance over the compound. My brother climbed onto the platform amid the flickering firelight, excited as a panther that has pounced on a golden pheasant. He began to speak: When we reported on the village revolutionary situation, we were warmly received by Comrade Chang Tianhong, vice chairman of the County Revolutionary Committee. He was satisfied with our revolutionary work and sent the assistant director of the County Revolutionary Political Work Section, Comrade Luo Jingtao, to direct our village revolutionary activities and announce the names of the Ximen Village Revolutionary Committee members. Comrades, my brother said loudly, the Milky Way Commune has not yet set up a revolutionary committee, but we in Ximen Village have! This pioneering effort by Vice Chairman Chang has brought great glory to our village. Now I’ll turn