the earth.
The ginseng hunter must display the purity of his intentions right from the start, so he
carries no weapons. He wears a conical hat made from birch bark, and shoes of tarred
pigskin, and an oiled apron to protect him from dew, and a badger skin attached to his
belt, on which he sits when the ground is wet. He carries small spades made from bone and
two small pliable knives that are quite useless for defense. Along with a little food and
wine, that is all he has, and his quest takes him into the wildest mountains where no men
have dared to pass before. Tigers and bears are his companions, and the hunter fears
strange creatures that are even more dangerous than tigers - such as the tiny owls that
will call him by name and lead him into the Forest of Oblivion from which no man returns,
and the bandits that are more brutal than savage bears and who crouch beside the few paths
in order to murder an unarmed hunter and steal his roots.
Ginseng hunters, when they have thoroughly searched an area and found nothing, will mark
the barks of trees with
kao chu kua
, which are tiny secret signs that tell other hunters not to waste their time there.
Hunters would not dream of deceiving each other, because they are not competitors but
fellow worshippers. Where a find has been made a shrine is raised, and other hunters who
pass will leave offerings of stones, or scraps of cloth. If a hunter finds a plant that is
not mature enough he will put stakes around it with his mark on them. If other hunters
find the place they will pray and offer gifts, but they would rather cut their throats
than take the plant for themselves. The behavior of a man who makes a find is very strange.
A weatherworn, clawed, half-starved ginseng hunter will occasionally have the good fortune
to make his way through dense underbrush and come upon a small plant with four branches
that have violet flowers and a fifth branch in the center that rises higher than the
others and is crowned with red berries. The stalk is deep red, and the leaves are deep
green on the outside and pale green on the inside, He will drop to his knees, his eyes
streaming with tears, and spread his arms wide to show that he is unarmed. Then he will
kowtow and bang his head three times upon the ground, and he will pray,
“O Great Spirit, do not leave me! I have come with a pure heart and soul, after freeing
myself from sins and evil thoughts. Do not leave me.”
Then the hunter covers his eyes and lies still for many minutes. If the ginseng plant does
not trust him, and wishes to change into a beautiful woman or a plump brown child and run
away, the hunter does not want to see where it has gone. At length he opens his eyes, and
if the plant is still there his joy is not so much from the fact that he has found a
valuable root as it is from the fact that he has been judged and found to be pure in heart.
He takes the seeds and carefully replants them so that the ginseng can grow again. The
leaves and flowers are stripped and ceremoniously burned, with many prayers. The hunter's
bone spades are used to dig up the root, which is forked and has something of a human
shape - skeptics point to the shape as the basis of an ignorant folk religion - and the
small pliable knives are used to clean the tiny tendrils called beards, which are supposed
to be crucial to the curative powers. The root is wrapped in birch bark and sprinkled with
pepper to keep insects away, and the happy hunter begins the long, dangerous trek back
toward the safety of civilization.
“Where his throat will probably be slit by somebody like Ma the Grub,” the abbot said
sourly. “Who will be swindled by somebody like Pawnbroker Fang, who will sell the root to
somebody like the Ancestress, who will squat like a huge venomous toad upon a folk deity
whose sole purpose in life is to aid the pure in