The Garlic Ballads

sisters miserable and lonely—
A motherless child is a horse with no reins.
On your own at fourteen to sing in a brothel:
Since the dawn of time harlots have been spared hughter reserved for the poor…
Instead of selling your body you should have a memorial arch erected in your honor
To repay this debt of blood
.

2.

    They pushed and squeezed their way out of the jute field. The high sun had burned off the pervasive mist and cleared heaven and earth. Across the pale strip of road they saw thousands of acres of chili peppers planted by Pale Horse County farmers—a stretch of fiery red as far as the eye could see.
    The moment they emerged from the field, Jinju felt as if she were standing naked in front of a crowd. Frantic with shame, she quickly retreated back into the field, followed by Gao Ma. “Keep moving,” he pressed her. “Why cower in here?”
    “Elder Brother Gao Ma,” she said, “we can’t travel in broad daylight.”
    “We’re in Pale Horse County now. No one knows us here,” Gao Ma said with mounting anxiety.
    “I’m scared. What if we run into somebody we know?”
    “We wont,” he reassured her. “And even if we did, we have nothing to be ashamed of.”
    “How can you say that? Look what you’ve done to me….” She sat down and began to cry.
    “All right, my little granny,” he said, exasperated. “You women are scared of wolves in front and tigers in back, changing your minds every couple of minutes.”
    “I can’t walk anymore. My legs hurt.”
    “No flimsy excuses now.”
    “And I’m sleepy.”
    First scratching his head, then shaking it, Gao Ma said, “We can’t live the rest of our lives in this jute field.”
    “I don’t care, I’m not moving while the suns out.”
    “Then we’ll wait till tonight.” He helped her to her feet. “But let’s move inside a little. It’s too dangerous here.”
    “I …”
    “I know, you can’t walk anymore.” He knelt in front of her. “I’ll carry you piggyback.” After handing her his bundle, he reached back and wrapped his arms around the back of her knees. She glided effortlessly up onto his back.
    Before long he was huffing and puffing, his dark neck thrust out at a sharp angle. Beginning to take pity on him, she prodded him with her knees. “Put me down,” she said. “I can walk now.”
    Without a word in reply, Gao Ma slid his hands upward until they were cupped around her buttocks, which he gentìy squeezed. A feeling as if her organs were blossoming like fresh flowers spread through her body. She moaned and lightly pummeled Gao Ma’s neck, he tripped, and they fell in a heap.
    The jute plants trembled uneasily—only a few at first, but they were soon joined by the others as a wind rose, and all the sounds in the world were swallowed up by the booming yet surprisingly gende noise of jute leaves and branches scraping against one another.

3.

    Early the following morning, Jinju and Gao Ma, their clothes dusty and wet with dew, walked up to the Pale Horse County long-distance bus station.
    It was a tall, handsome building—on the outside, at least—whose colorfully shaded lights above the gate illuminated both the large red letters of the signboard and the pale-green plaster façade. Pushcarts that opened after dark formed two rows leading up to the gate, like a long eorridor. Sleepy-eyed vendors, male and female, stood wearily behind their carts. Jinju watched a young vendor in her twenties cover up a yawn with her hand; when she was finished, tears stood in her eyes, which looked like lethargic tadpoles in the reflected blue flames from a sizzling gas lantern.
    “Sweet pears … sweet pears … want some sweet pears?” a woman called to them from behind her pushcart. “Grapes … grapes … buy these fine grapes!” a man called from behind his. Apples, autumn peaches, honeyed dates: whatever you could desire, they sold. The smell of overripe fruit hung in the air, and the ground was littered with waste paper, the rotting skins of various fruits, and human excrement.
    Jinju imagined something hidden behind the vendors’ benign looks. Deep down they’re cursing or laughing at me, she thought. They know who I am, and they know the things ? ve done over the past couple of days. That one over there, she can see the mud stains on my back and the crushed jute leaves on my clothes. And that old bastard over there, staring at me like I’m one of
those
women…. Overwhelmed by a powerful sense of degradation,