Read Wild Ginger for Free Online Page B

about my father. I missed him terribly. As my mind wandered the sweetness of the air disappeared. I became uncomfortable. I felt the sky turn into a broad palm and press itself upon my face. A nameless anxiety crept up on me. I worried about my future. I thought about the word "escape." I wanted to escape school and my family. I wanted to be a Maoist. I understood that it was the only path to a good future. One had to be a Maoist to get a good job. But on the other hand I was confused. I was not sure whether being a Maoist would make me happy. I was not looking forward to graduation. I didn't see a future as bright as the one Chairman Mao promised. Maybe it was the daily hunger, the hardship, that stressed me. And my father. The way he was treated. My family was never enthusiastic about participating in the Cultural Revolution. All my siblings were considered politically nearsighted. I didn't see where it was all leading. Anyhow, Evergreen's record as the Mao-citing champion impressed Wild Ginger more than it did me.

    I heard singing. For a brief moment I was sure that I was imagining it. The voice was silky, pure and penetrating. It was in a foreign language. The strangeness grabbed me. Wild Ginger. What was she singing? French? She sang it as if she knew the language. But she didn't. I knew she didn't.
    The singing went on for a while and then stopped. Wild Ginger reappeared.
    "Was it weird?"
    "I liked it. A lot."
    "It's a spy code," she teased.
    "Then why do you sing it?"
    "Just to show you what my mother rubbed my ears with, though she has stopped since the revolution."
    "What are the songs about?"
    "I have no idea."
    "You're lying. Your mother must have explained them to you."
    "All right, she did. She said they were about love. The lyrics are disgusting and poisonous."
    "I think they are beautiful."
    "Don't be stupid, Maple."
    "It's true. It shows how much you miss your father."
    "You don't know French."
    "You don't either."
    "What makes you think that I miss him?"
    "Your voice."
    She paused, as if surprised.
    "I really like your voice," I continued.
    "You'd like it better if I sang 'I Am Missing Chairman Mao.' I can sound as good as the radio."
    Before I could tell her that I had been bored with that song and its constant repetition on the radio and at ceremonies, she turned toward the field to sing with her full voice:
I raise my head to see the Big Dipper.
I am missing you, Chairman Mao.
Longing for you I strive,
Thinking about you I find light in darkness,
Thinking about you I gain my strength.
I owe you my life,
I owe you my happiness.
    Deep in the fields moonbeams sparkled overhead. The white rays silently spread, in rushing streams, bathing the corn.

    We had yecai as dinner. It was boiled in a wok and mixed with wild sandy-brown rice. The color was exactly manurelike. Many of us threw up before forcing it down our throats. One hour after eating the chamber-pot room was crowded.
    "Wild Ginger, I think I like the French song better," I whispered to her after we got into bed and the light was off. "Especially now that you've told me that it was a song your father sang."
    "Maple, please, don't bring up that French ghost."
    "Well, it helps me to fight the urge to throw up."
    "From now on you can mention anything else but the ghost."
    "The ghost is in your own voice, Wild Ginger. But I prefer to see it as a fairy."
    She turned over and threw a fistful of wheat she had brought back from the field in my face. It shut me up. After a while she said, "Actually, for your information, my ability to memorize is a true gift. My eyes easily store everything they see."
    "Well, then you should explore your talent."
    "I am working on it. Wanna know a secret? I've been planning to take the championship from Evergreen."
    "You mean the Mao Quotation-Citing Contest?"
    "Do I surprise you?"
    "You talk big."
    "Just watch me."
    "Silence!" Hot Pepper's voice. "Let's say good night to Chairman Mao and wish him a long, long life."
    "Page