Mrs. Pollifax on the China Station

returning home to Xian after a meeting of cadres in Guangzhou . He was curious about them. They
were in their fifties; one had mentioned that he was born in Nanjing ,
while the other came from a village outside Beijing .
    To live now in Xian, so far away, he thought, it would have been shang-shan-xia-xiang that wrenched them from their native towns and families, or what was called ”up
to the mountains and down to the villages/’ that great experiment of Mao’s that
sent intellectuals into the country to dig wells and plow fields, and peasants
out of the villages to be trained and educated. He understood the need; there
were too many people in China ’s
cities, and it was vital to spread them out, except that usually only the
peasants—the jie ho —were ever returned to their native villages. The
educated young people, the chi-shi qingnian —found themselves banished
forever to the countryside. He wondered how he would feel if, upon
graduating from college, he were to be sent off to a remote Inner Mongolian
commune, for instance, to be tu bao zi, a hick— literally a clod of
earth—for the rest of his life. It had been one of the most astonishing
leveling experiments in modern history, the attempt to reeducate nearly a
billion people in the ”correct” ideological way to think, as against an
incorrect way... the turning over of one’s heart and mind to the Motherland,
the achievement of absolute trust in the parent-state. Work without laying
down conditions. Work without expecting reward. It is the work that counts, not
the person. What helps our reform we should talk about abundantly, what is bad
for reform we should not talk about at all. Education Through Labor. Dui
shi, bi dui ren— it is the mistake we are after, not the man. Be grateful to
the state by working with enthusiasm, without thinking of yourself.
    Except that for X it was not education through labor, but reform through
labor, and what would Wang be like after his years in a reform camp? To survive
he would have learned humility through self-criticism and confession; he would
have been taught over and over that he must selflessly work for the greater
whole, because whatever changes had occurred since Mao’s death it was doubtful
that they would easily reach a labor camp in a remote province. If by now Wang
had not turned into a model prisoner, thinking ”correct” ideological thoughts,
he could just as easily have given up hope and have become a shell of a man.
Would he even consent to leave, to escape?
    Would he even find Wang? And if he found the camp, would he be able to
recognize him? What if he had been altered beyond recognition? From some
ancient file there had arrived that single blown-up photograph of a younger
Wang... Comrade Wang, engineer, greeting volunteer workers for our
Motherland’s defenses as they arrive in the north from villages and cities all
over our country to joyously give of their labor. There had been no date on
the photo, just as there was no knowing what political tide had swept him
aside, condemned of revisionist thinking or of being an anti-revolutionist.
    There were the other unknowns and variables as well: the fact that the
only information they had about the logging camp was its existence somewhere in
the Tian Shan mountain range and surrounded on
three sides by a stream of water so fast-flowing that it couldn’t be crossed
except on horseback. Not that the poor devils needed such barriers, he
reflected, because if a prisoner decided to escape, where could he go? He
needed identity papers, authorization for travel, and coupons for food and
clothing, and wherever he went he would still be in China .
    Such thoughts as these didn’t undermine his confidence, they were merely
parts of a logistics problem that would have to be solved as they left Xian and
drew closer to Urumchi and to the Tian Shan range. He knew that he was well trained, that he was nerveless and capable, and
he spoke the language fluently. The most aggravating unknown was Mrs. Pollifax.
He objected very much to having the success of his assignment rest just now in
someone else’s hands, much less those of a foolish middle-aged lady. He had
fought against this from the beginning, insisting he manage the contact
himself, but Car-stairs had said, ”We can’t risk you, the contact in Xian is
too pivotal, too dangerous. If you should be caught—if Guo should betray
you—we’d lose you, and you’re irreplaceable because of your