The Garlic Ballads

breeze, flesh and bones turn to mud.’ If you put him on a heated kang, he’ll turn bad even faster.”
    “In other words, do you plan to let your own father lie outside?”
    “It’s as good a place as any,” Number Two replied. “The cool winds will cut down on the smell, and we’ll be spared the trouble of having to carry him outside tomorrow morning.”
    “And let the dogs get at him?”
    “Mother,” Number One spoke up, “we’ll be skinning the cow and carving up the meat to take to market tomorrow. What Deputy Yang said made sense, especially the part about how the dead are gone, but the survivors have to keep on living.”
    Poor Fourth Aunt had no choice. Between sobs she said, “Husband, since your sons won’t let you sleep on the kang, you’ll have to lie out here tonight.”
    “Don’t make yourself feel worse, Mother,” the older son said. “Go in and lie down. We’ll take care of things out here.” He then lit the lantern and set it on a stone roller alongside the threshing floor, while his brother brought out a pair of stools and placed them several feet apart on the ground. They picked up the door on which Fourth Uncles corpse lay and rested it on the stools.
    “Go inside and get some rest, Mother,” her older son urged. “We’ll watch the body. Say what you want, but Father was fated to die like this, so there’s no reason to be so sad.”
    But she sat down beside the raised door and cleaned maggots out of Fourth Uncle’s various openings with a twig while her sons spread a beat-up old tarp out on the threshing floor and rolled the dead cow up onto it until its belly was facing skyward. Then they propped the animal in that position by placing bricks on either side of its backbone. Four legs, stiff as boards, stuck straight up in the air.
    Number One picked up a carving knife, Number Two a cleaver. Beginning in the center of the abdomen, they sliced the animal open, then began skinning it, Number One to the east, Number Two to the west. Fourth Aunt’s nostrils picked up the powerful stench of the dead cow and of Fourth Uncle.

    Sister-in-Law, the murky light from that lantern fell on my husband’s face, and his black eyes bored into me until blasts of cold air shot out of every joint in my body. No matter how hard I tried I couldn’t dig those maggots out of him. I know it sounds disgusting, but it didn’t seem so to me at the time. I hated those maggots, and I squashed every one I got my hands on. And my sons, all they cared about was skinning that cow. Not a thought for their own father. But my daughter carried a basin of water outside to clean his face with damp cotton. And since we didn’t have another knife, she trimmed the gray stubble on his chin with a pair of scissors, and even cut back his nose hairs. He cut quite a figure when he was young, but got all shriveled up when he was old, and was a real sight. Then she brought out his dark-green jacket, and the two of us put it on him. I know it doesnt seem right for a couple of women to be dressing a man, but right after I asked my sons to help, I noticed their bloody hands and told them to forget it. Jinju, I said, this is your own father, not some strange man, so let’s you and me do it. He was skin and bones, and the clothes helped a lot. All this time, my sons were’s truggling with that cowhide, until their faces were all sweaty. That reminded me of a joke. An old man calls his three sons to his deathbed. ‘I’m going to die soon. How do you boys plan to dispose of my body?” The eldest son says, “Dad, we’re so poor we can’t afford a decent coffin, so I say we buy a cheap pine box, put you in it, and bury you. How does that sound?”
    “No good,” his father says, shaking his head, “no good at all.”
    “Dad,” the second son says, “I think we ought to wrap you in an old straw mat and bury you that way. How’s that?”
    “No good,” his father says, “no good at all.” The third son says, “Dad, here’s what I recommend: we chop you into three pieces, skin you, and take everything to market, where we palm you off as dogmeat, beef, and donkey. What do you think of that?” Their father smiles and says, “Number Three knows his father’s mind. Now don’t forget to add a little water to the meat to keep the weight up.” Are you asleep, Sister-in-Law?

    Her sons’ hands were so coated with blood and gore that the knives kept slipping, so they wiped them off on the ground; the yellow