Writings of a 13 year old school girl in a Chinese village
Taken from The diary of Ma Yan , edited by Pierre Haski, Harper Collins 2004 (Translated from French to English by Lisa Appignanesi and from Mandarin Chinese into French by He Yanpin.
[ Editorial note: two months ago I read this book thinking about la gioventu del disagio in Italy and the problems of disaffected youth in UK. . I have gone back to these pages thinking about the huge numbers who bunk off school in these rich islands called Great Britain. I have keyed in the exerpts that follow thinking of my son who was so pissed off with his school that he was proud to aim for and to "achieve" five C's in his GCSE exams.
Marx was right: economics governs everything.]
Wednesday , Nov 7th
My father gave me and my brother a little money. My stomach is all twisted up with hunger but I don't want to spend the money on anything as frivolous as food. Because it's money my parents earn with their own sweat and blood . I have to study well so that I won't ever again be tortured by hunger.
Sunday July 1st
This afternoon at four o'clock, after our rest, Mother started to prepare dinner. I helped her to make the fire. After we had eaten, the whole family went back to the fields to cut more wheat. A little while later, my mother was tying the wheat into bales when she suddenly sat down and got very pale. She moaned softly and said her stomach pains had begun again.
There she is, sitting in the wheat, but we carry on harvesting with our sickles.
Tears and the perspiration of pain run down my mother's face. Her eyes are read. Her hands are arched over her stomach. My father tells her to go home. No, she'll wait for us, she says. I lower my head and think: " Why does my mother want to do this harvesting when she is so gravely ill? Why? >br?
For us, of course. So that we won't have to lead a life like hers.
Tuesday December 5th
Music lesson this afternoon. The teacher warns us: " Study well, because next week
we're having a test." Everybody starts to study. My heart sinks. As soon as the word
TEST is mentioned I feel like crying.
Why cry? Because I didn't come in at the top of the class in Math or Chinese in the mid-term exams. When I told my parents about this , Father didn't say anything. He simply walked out of the house. But Mother exploded: " If you carry on doing this badly you won't even deserve the bread rolls you take along each week."
Even though Father didn't say anything, I think he is angrier than Mother. That's why I have to do well in the music test next week. I have to bring at least one good grade home to my parents.
Thursday October 26th
This afternoon during the break after our first Chinese lesson, we skipped rope. Our
Chinese teacher, Ma Shixiong, a man of about 27, who is very nice to us, stood and
watched us. His face beamed with happiness as if he were the same age as us. I haven't
seen him this happy since the term started.
I think he is reminded of his childhood when he watches us. When he was a child he
probably played the same games and played them well.
That's why, seeing us skipping, he remembers that happy time and looks so pleased.
[Editorial note: for contrast with this dedicated, driven, conscientious Chinese early teenage voice click to Boredom, Student Voices, Year 7 Issue 2 March 05 or to Real Achievement; why sitting in class is boring when you are 14, Student Voices, Year 7, Issue 6 September 05]
|
