For Phyllis only

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24 Rendi1ions Spring 1995

Yin lived with the butcher for about half a year. At first she was as insolent and ferocious as before. Her husband was so enraged that he bored a hole in her thigh with his butcher's knife, passed a coarse straw rope through the hole, and hung her up to dangle on the rope from a roof beam. Then away he went, nonchalantly carrying some pork with him. Only after Yin had screamed, howled, and shouted herself hoarse, did her neighbours find out what had happened. They untied her and tried to pull out the rope. With each tug, her scream of pain shook the whole neighbourhood. From then on, the mere sight of the butcher made her hair stand on end. Later, the wound in her thigh healed over, but the broken ends of the straw remained inside her flesh, making it difficult for her to walk. Still, she served him and toiled for him day and night, not daring to slacken off one bit. The butcher, a man of violent temper, would rail at her and thrash her mercilessly whenever he returned home drunk. At such times, she began to realize that her present sufferings exactly mirrored those she had inflicted on the Yangs previously.

One day, Xi' er' s wife Madame Yang and her aunt Madame Wang wentto the Putuo Temple to offer incense. The peasant women from the nearby villages gathered there to pay their respects to them. Yin stood among the peasant women, but was disconcerted and did not go forward. Madame Wang deliberately asked, "Who is she?" The servant reported that she was Butcher Zhang's wife and loudly ordered Yin to go forward to kowtow to the Grand Madame. Wang then remarked with a sneer, "If this woman is married to a butcher, she ought to have no want of meat. Why is she so gaunt?"

Yin returned home in great shame and remorse. She tried to hang herself, but the straw rope was too weak to sustain her weight. The butcher became even more disgusted with her.

More than a year later, the butcher died. One day, Yin happened to come across Wandan. She gazed at him from a distance and began crawling on her knees, her tears falling down like rain. Although Wandan recognized her, he hesitated to exchange words with her in front of his servants. But when he returned home, he told his nephew about it and expressed his wish to take Yin back. His nephew, however, objected vehemently to this proposal.

Spurned by her neighbours, Yin had no place to go to for a very long time, and began to depend on a group of beggars for her living. Wandan still went to a ruined temple to meet with her from time to time. His nephew considered this disgraceful and secretly instructed the group of beggars to embarrass him. Finally, Wandan stopped visiting her. I do not know what really happened. The last few lines were written by Mr Bi Gongquan.

The Historian of the Strange comments: "Being henpecked is a universal disease. Still, who could have imagined that the world would produce such a specimen as Mr Yang? How could anyone deny that he was a freak of Nature?"

~~=~~{j( Paperboy By Yang Kui

Translated by Rosemary Haddon

1

"This looks promising," I thought. I had been labouring under a burden of anxieties since coming to Tokyo, and just when I felt they were about to crush me, I had a vision of deliverance. Instantly, relief flooded through me.

I had been in Tokyo for almost one month, pacing the streets daily. From morning to night, I had trudged to every employment agency the city had to offer in my search for a job. I had marked off Tokyo and its suburbs into sections and had searched with the help of a list of job opportunities copied from the classified ads, but it had all been for nothing. On top of this, the thirty yen' I had brought with me from Taiwan had shrunk to six yen twenty cents. The ten yen I'd left at home to support my mother and my two younger brothers and younger sister was probably almost all used up by now.

During this anxious period I was shocked to read in the newspaper that unemploy- ment was estimated at three million nation-wide. Then one day out of the blue, I saw a notice pasted up on the window of the Ozaki Newspaper Delivery Agency: "Paperboys Wanted". I almost jumped for joy. An opportunity to prove myself at last!

My heart pounding, I hurried over to the door of the agency, opened it and stepped inside. I bowed my politest bow. It was three o'clock in the afternoon, and the evening papers had just arrived. Dozens of paperboys were busily folding newspapers, filling the

The story was wrilten in Japanese and was serialized in 1932 in Taiwan "s Xinmin baotr llttli under the lil/e "'shinbun haitatsufu ··.It was censored half-way through the serialization. In 1934 the whole slory was published in Tokyo's Bungaku Hy6ron and then translated into Chinese by Hu Feng lill!J.for Public~/ ion in Shijie zhishi tll: l'H!l !111 in Shanghai.

In Japan during the 1930s, one yen was equivalent to one peck of rice, or a day's labour.

26 Renditions Spring 1995

room with a rustling sound. In the midst of all this activity, a man was sitting idly at a desk. He was wearing a suit and his hair was slicked back. Slowly, he took his cigarette out of his mouth and blew out a cloud of smoke with perfect composure. "Yes ... ?"

"Uh ... Paperboys ... " I pointed to the sign in the window. "You ... want to have a try?"

The boss' voice was stern. My own voice stuck in my throat. "Yes, sir ... yes. Please take me on .... "

"All right. But read these regulations first. If you accept them, you can start right away." He pointed to some shop rules written on a large piece of paper stuck up on the wall.

I read the first and second rule, then stopped, dumbfounded, midway through the third. The third regulation required security money often yen. My eyes glazed over, and I was unable to read on.

A moment later the boss turned his head and, seeing my dispirited look, asked, "Well? ... Do you accept them?"

"Yes ... yes, I accept them all right. But I'm four yen short for the security money." He scrutinized me carefully from head to foot, then replied, "I feel sorry for you,

seeing the state you're in. I can't say no. You'll just have to work twice as hard as the others, do you understand?"

"Yes, I understand! Thank you very much!" I lowered my gaze to the tips of his shoes as I poured out my gratitude, then extracted a five-yen bill which I had carefully pinned inside my shirt pocket. I added this to the one yen twenty cents which I had in my wallet and offered the money very respectfully to the boss, repeating, "Thank you very much, sir."

The boss casually stuffed the money in a drawer and said, "Come inside and wait. A boy called Tanaka will look after you. You must do as he says!"

"Yes. Yes, sir." I nodded my head a few times and sat down at his feet to wait, overjoyed. I wondered what Tanaka would be like and hoped he would be the boy over there who looked like a student.

As the boss and I conversed, the paperboys finished stacking the newspapers and left the shop one after the other. The large room fell silent. As I sat at the boss' feet, I feverishly recalled stories of worker-students who had accomplished great things, and vowed to endure all manner of hardship in order to achieve my goals.

2

The winter sun set very fast. The clock had barely struck five before the sky became dark. The boss had long since locked the drawer of his desk and left. The shop lay empty

I

j

Paperbo_v 27

and still, and I sat alone inside. Unsure of how to pass the time in these strange, inert surroundings, I stood up, then sat back down again, feeling very restless.

I appraised my situation: I was penniless, hungry, cold and alone. I could not help imagining that I had lost my money to a swindler and had been cast aside, forgotten. But that's absurd, I told myself. My money is right there in that drawer, that desk is in this room, and this room belongs to the Ozaki Newspaper Delivery Agency. A short while ago, several dozen paperboys left this room, and just now the boss agreed to take me on. After searching for a month, I've found my first job at last, and it's happened right here in this room! This is no hallucination. Brushing aside the fantasies careering through my head, I forced myself to contemplate the heroes of my favourite success stories to

rekindle hope within me. After a long wait, things genuinely brightened up: the first paperboy to finish

delivery came in and turned on the light. Following him, came another, then two, three, and four who returned together. For a while, the cold, deserted room was bustling again. I came out of my reverie and immediately set about looking for Tanaka. I grabbed the first person within reach and asked, "Mr Tanaka?" I got no reply; instead, the boy called up to the second floor, "Tanaka!"

"Yes? Who called?" Someone shouted, then came running downstairs. From his appearance - he was also dressed as any student would be- he looked friendly enough. Because I had decided to be a worker-student in Tokyo, I had very positive feelings about people dressed as students.

"Uh ... you're Mr Tanaka? I'm new here. The boss instructed me to put myself in your care. I'm at your service!" I bowed respectfully and voiced my wishes earnestly.

The boy blushed. Turning away, he replied, "Uh. Same here." He had probably never before had anyone bow to him so respectfully and had no idea how to react. "Well

···come upstairs." Saying this, he ran noisily back up. I followed him upstairs. I realized that the second floor was no regular second storey

but a loft. You could not stand upright without knocking your head against the ceiling. Before this, I had been living in a doss-house in Honshu. One evening, several students from some university had come to look around our dorm. Crossing our living area, they had remarked, "What a hole! How can so many of you sleep in such a small space?" But the upstairs of this delivery agency was ten times worse than the doss-house. In fact, it was barely fit for human habitation. The tatami matting was worn, revealing the grime-blackened woven straw beneath that the paperboys had to sleep on. Some of the boys were huddled together in twos and threes talking, but the majority had already burrowed under their quilts. After a good look, I realized that there was just one quilt for every three paperboys. Beginning from the far wall, these boys were packed together, row upon crowded row.

28 Renditions Spring 1995

I had grown up in the Taiwan countryside. My father was a hard-working farmer who tilled his own land. Although we were not particularly well-off, we at least had plenty of living space. As I am fastidious, I had a room to myself and cleaned it daily. But I reminded myself that even kings sometimes had to sleep on straw and eat bread and water and made up my mind to put up with anything.

I looked vacantly around the room and was quietly consoling myself when I suddenly heard someone crying. I turned my head, startled. Behind me, I saw a young boy of about fourteen or fifteen who was weeping and sniffling in a corner. Another boy sitting beside him was quietly attempting to soothe him. I could not hear what they were saying, but I felt uneasy. I had only just come to the agency and had no stomach to take up other people's causes; I felt dismayed. Why did that little fellow have to go and cry just when I was feeling elated at having found a job?

Puzzling over the situation, I concluded that as the boy was so young, doubtless he was homesick. Slowly my fears abated. I dozed awhile, then heard a clock strike eight. This was followed by three rings of a buzzer.

"You'd better go to sleep," Tanaka advised me. He was beside me. "We have to get up very early here. When the papers arrive at two or three, we all have to get up."

3

Before me, the heads stretched away from the foot of the wall in row after row. The room was packed full, and I wondered how I was going to prise open a space in which to lie down. Tanaka took out a quilt, then three of us - Tanaka, another boy called Sato and myself- squeezed in together. We were so crowded that moving even a little was completely out of the question, let alone rolling over. I had once seen porcelain jars being stacked in a carton. The more closely packed they were the better it was for the jars, and, as a result, there was not an inch of space between them. Here in this room, we were crowded together just like that. Because we were all squeezed fiat, saying we were like tinned sardines would perhaps be more to the point.

Back home, I was used to having plenty of sleeping space and I kept my room swept spotless because I was afraid oft1eas. But this Ozaki Newspaper Delivery Agency was a den of t1eas. As soon as I lay down, they launched an attack on my feet, back, belly and chest. I itched unbearably. The Honshu doss-house had also been a haven for t1eas, but it hadn't been as crowded as here, and I could at least get up to scratch. But in this sardine tin of a loft, you couldn't move. The only thing I could do was grit my teeth and bear it. I refused to let this minor irritation get me down by reminding myself of how difficult it had been to get this job- the first step toward realizing my goals.

"You' II just have to work twice as hard as the others, twice ... " Thoughts came and

l

Paperboy 29

went, and I felt a mounting excitement. As I struggled under the attack of both fleas and emotions, nine o'clock struck, then ten, but I still could not fall asleep. When I ran out of thoughts, I craned my neck and counted heads. There were twenty-five boys altogether, including myself. The next day, I counted a total of twelve tatami mats. It did not take long to figure out that each mat must accommodate more than two

persons. As I whiled away the night, my bladder was filling up. As it happened, I was lodged

between Sato and Tanaka, so getting up would be extremely difficult. Considering that the others were peacefully asleep, I couldn't bring myself to just lift up the quilt and disturb them. At first I thought that I could quietly squeeze my way out head first, but I bumped into the head of the person sleeping in the next row - these heads were obstructing that particular exit route. Finally, I turned sideways and, supporting myself with my hands, carefully extricated myself after about five minutes' effort. In the process, I bumped into Sato; he rolled over, fortunately not waking up.

I was finally up, but it was a whole other thing to get over to the landing. At the end where the heads were lined up, they were so close together that there was no place to insert a foot. On the other hand, because feet take up less space than bodies, I reckoned that there must be some space where the feet were. As the feet were under the quilts, though, it was very difficult to determine just where this space was. I inched my way forward - where there was space to insert a foot, I went forward one step and, with the utmost difficulty, finally found my way to the landing. On the way, I had still trodden on someone's foot, which had made me jump in alarm.

On my way back, I experienced an even greater challenge than that in corning out. As I headed back to my place on the mat, I encountered the same difficulties as before, but once I arrived, I discovered that Sato, who had rolled over when I had previously bumped against him, was now occupying all of my space as well! We had only met today, and I did not know what kind of temperament he had, so I did not dare to forcibly dislodge him. All I could do was to sit there until I was gradually able to pry open some space without waking him. After a lot of squeezing, I finally got in and lay down.

The clock struck twelve, and I was still wide awake. After that, I couldn't tell how much time had passed. I must have dozed off at some point, for I was awakened by being roughly shaken by the shoulder. I opened my eyes and saw chaos - the room was like a battlefield. The buzzer that had announced bedtime at eight o'clock the previous evening was again ringing loudly. When the ringing stopped, the clock beneath struck twice. I had slept less than two hours, and my head was heavy with fatigue.

After folding their quilts, the boys ran noisily down the stairs. I rubbed my eyes drowsily and followed Tanaka. Downstairs, some of the workers had already begun to stack the newspapers; some were using towels to wipe their faces; others were brushing their teeth with their fingers. There were neither basins nor tooth powder. With

30 Renditions Spring 1995

wondering eyes, I gazed at these boys who, in the middle of civilized, urban Tokyo, were living such a primitive life. Needless to say, I had not thought of bringing a towel. Rinsing

my face with cold water, I wiped it dry with my sleeve and hurried over to Tanaka's side. I took a few papers from his pile and began to learn how to stack. It wasn't easy for the first few, but after that, I was almost as fast as the others, stacking with the same easy rhythm. The room was filled with the rustling sound of the newspapers; my hands moved in time with the lively beat and my sluggish brain revived.

4

'- --~~~ .-·--....--~. _·· -- .. -- --:'") ··-'-~ -::-- -~ -~-~~-....._4'

From Fengjing sumiao hua.

After stacking the papers, the boys tied them into bundles,

strapped them onto their shoulders,

then left the shop. Tanaka and I were the third pair lo leave. Out-

side, I felt the cold wind pierce my face. I was wearing all the clothes I owned, but I was still so cold that my teeth chattered. During the last three days, the snow had fallen until it was knee-deep, and al- though it was only three o'clock in the morning, the reflected light

from the snow made everything seem as bright as day.

We were assigned a delivery route in a residential suburb of

Tokyo. Tanaka and I took short cuts to get there, walking down

many backstreets where we sank up to our knees in snow. The snow

was just beginning to melt, and there was muddy slush beneath.

The slush seeped through the soles of my shoes that were worn and full of holes, and after we had gone a short distance only, my feet were

frozen stiff. I reminded myself of I

j

Paperboy 31

the many streets I had walked in vain during the previous month, and although the road I was now on made my feet throb with pain and turn numb, it gave me hope. I also thought of my mother and siblings at home waiting for my news and the national unemployment of three million people, and finally, my discomfort subsided. I steeled myself by repeating, "He who can take the hardest punishment will get to the top." I felt inspired, and my feet marched forward vigorously.

Tanaka was ahead of me; his pace was both brisk and odd-looking. Each time he stuffed a newspaper through a pair of shutters, he told me the name of the family. I would peer with a flashlight at my list of subscribers and repeat the name a few times to impress it firmly in my mind. We turned off one street into another and criss-crossed many

backstreets and lanes. By the time we had delivered about two hundred and fifty papers, dawn had broken.

Tanaka and I returned to the shop quickly, our stomachs aching. Because my six yen twenty cents had been taken away by the boss the previous evening, I had not had

dinner. I had watched my money slowly diminish over the past several days, my anxiety building; during the last few days, I had not eaten one square meal. I imagined how,

when we got back to the shop, there would be delicious miso soup and hot rice waiting for us. I would be able lo eat my fill in peace. Just thinking about my breakfast seemed

to make it hover before my eyes, and my mouth watered. As I pondered these pleasant thoughts, the cold in my feet, the shaking in my limbs and the ache in my stomach vanished.

Tanaka did not take me back to the shop, though. Instead, he entered an alley just ahead and halted before a little restaurant on the corner. I was bewildered. I was sure that the shop would provide bed and board, so why had Tanaka taken me here? Besides, I didn't have a cent.

"Tanaka ... l" My shout stopped Tanaka just as he had raised his hand to open the door. "Tanaka, I don't have any money .... Yesterday, I gave my six yen twenty cents to the boss for the security money."

Tanaka stood there, looking at me dumbly. Then, as though he had suddenly made up his mind, he replied, "In that case .... Let's go in anyway! I' II pay for you for now and

you can pay me back later." Pushing open the door, he urged me inside. I hesitated, my vision of an ample meal vanishing. I had thought I'd finally get to eat my fill; instead, it had come to this. My spirits were dashed.

"Oh well, I'm working now, so it's no big deal to ask Tanaka to pay for the time being. When I get my wages, I can pay him back in full!" As I reasoned with myself, I forced myself to cheer up and ate until I was half full.

"You haven't had much. Forget about the money. It doesn't matter. Eat up l" Tanaka noticed that I had laid down my chopsticks after eating only one bowl ofrice. He himself had had two and he encouraged me to eat more. Tanaka was even nicer than I had thought,

...,_ ________ _

32 Renditions Spring 1995

but I felt it was not right to cat more. My one bowl of rice had whetted my appetite, but I couldn't ask for a second. "I've had enough, thanks." I turned away, my eyes slinging with tears. I was confused and felt simultaneously apologetic, bashful and extremely grateful to this young worker called Tanaka.

The paperboys apparently all came to this restaurant to eat. Some were still eating; some had finished eating and had leti; others still were just coming in. I recognized some faces among them.

Tanaka paid the bill, and I followed him outside. His meal had come to twelve cents and mine eight. I went up to him, wishing to thank him again, but he avoided me and changed the subject. "Do you think you can take it? The work might seem light, but actually it's quite tough, especi'llly in winter."

"Tough ... I can take it."

it." "That's right! You have to persevere! You'll find it's easier when you get used to

"Yes. Thanks."

"Don't mention it:' Tanaka turned away. He was obviously unused to so much civility. His face was red.

5

Tanaka and I returned to the shop. There were seven or eight workers upstairs, who had also returned. Some were getting ready to go to school, while others were reading or talking. Two or three had taken out their quilts and were snuggled inside asleep. Tanaka was putting things into his satchel in preparation for going to school.

I watched Tanaka and the others getting ready for school and itched to go with them. But when I thought of how I was dependent on others just to eat, I felt my hopes of ever going to school evaporate. Feeling deflated, I sat down, leaned listlessly against the wall and gazed blankly out of the window at the road below. The morning street scene was spectacular: the sun flashed brightly off the shop signs on either side of the road, and all kinds of vehicles filled the streets. Office workers were heading to the office and students were heading to school. They had all mustered their energies for the day ahead and were alert and full of vitality. Who could guess that in this city alone there were twenty or thirty thousand unemployed people struggling for their existence!

In the midst of my reverie, I felt something touch the palm of my hand. Turning round, I saw Tanaka. He was ready to go to school and had placed a fifty-cent coin in my hand. 'Take this," he said. "Buy yourself some lunch. When I get back from school, we'll try to think of something."

I stared at the coin in my hand and felt a lump in my throat. Without saying a word,

Paperbov 33

I looked up and watched Tanaka run downstairs, almost moved to tears by my wonderful new friend. "Once I'm more at home here, I'll have to think of some way to thank him," I thought to myself. Just then I heard someone weeping again. Turning my head, I saw that it was the same fourteen- or fifteen-year-old boy of the previous evening. He was reluctantly tying up a cloth bundle, then, sniffling, he turned and went slowly down the stairs. "He's probably so homesick he can't take it any more. He's too young to be out on his own." I comforted myself with the same explanation as the previous evening, then turned back to the window. The downstairs door closed, and I watched the boy head off silently down the street, diminishing in size and repeatedly turning back to look. For

whatever reason, I felt my spirits sink again. Later that same day when the time came to deliver the evening papers, l followed

Tanaka out again. From the second day on, I delivered the papers myself. Tanaka followed me, correcting me wherever I went wrong. The morning of the third day was exceptionally cold; the melted snow had frozen and the road was very slippery. My hands were frozen stiff from the cold, and my movements were awkward. Stuffing newspapers through the slats of the shutters was not so easy after all. Even so, it did not take me

much longer than usual to do the delivery. "Nol bad at all! Out only twice and you remembered nearly every one of the two

hundred and fifty houses." Tanaka praised me on the way back. I myself thought that I had done quite well. I had had to be reminded only two or three times at the intersections

where I had got confused. lt was Sunday and there was no school. After breakfast, Tanaka asked me to go out

with him to solicit subscribers. We walked along together, already fast friends, and talked about our families and our interests. I was very happy to have found such an honest and sincere friend. After opening up to each other, I said to him, "I want to be able to go to

school soon.'' "That'd be great! We could help each other and support each other right to the end!"

Every day, Tanaka spared me a few coins in order to pay for my meals. When he saw

what shape my shoes were in he even bought me a pair of tabi. 2

6

One day, Tanaka and I went to the suburbs. The air was bracing and we chatted together happily as though we were going up a mountain to pick fruit. When we arrived at our destination, however, our quarry was subscribers and not the wild fruit of the

mountains.

2 Tabi are split-toed cloth boots worn by Japanese and other Asian labourers .

---

34 Renditions Spring 1995

Tokyo was in the process of expanding out toward the suburbs. New residences were being built everywhere and families were moving in daily. We set our sights on these new homes and stores, to each and every one of which we had to gain admittance, bow and reel out our sales pitch about how great our newspaper was. Some of what we said was true and some was false, the false being passed off as true and the truth exaggerated. I was the apprentice and stood at one side to watch and listen to Tanaka's tactics. As I watched this honest friend of mine spin out lie after lie about our paper, my face burned. It might have been red, but I couldn't tell.

"The flower vendor swears that his flowers are fragrant, the melon vendor swears that his melons are sweet. It has to be this way:· On the way out, Tanaka would always say this regardless of whether or not we hooked anyone, and I had to agree with him. Some householders simply refused to listen to our sales pitch and, when they realized we were promoting a newspaper, they yelled at us as though we were dogs. "Get out! We don't want any!" The door would be slammed in our faces. There was nothing we could do about this type.

I was an observer today. I could endure anything and even found it funny to be chased away like a dog. I didn't know that, starting the next day, I would be sent out on this very same mission. "Do you remember where to deliver all the papers?" The boss called me over when Tanaka and I returned.

"Yes. All of them,'' I answered easily. In only two days, I had memorized all two hundred and fifty subscribers spread out over this vast, new and complex area. I was filled with pride.

"Not bad!" The boss praised me, then took up the day's subscriptions and counted them. He laughed loudly and slapped me on the shoulder. "First time out and you come up with this kind of result. This doesn't happen very often!" My face reddened. All the soliciting that day had been done by Tanaka; I had only been an observer, but Tanaka had put the result down as mine. "Well then," continued the boss. "Starting from today, you can go out and solicit subscribers. Tanaka will deliver papers, but if anything comes up, you'll have to do his route. Don't forget that!"

"No, I won't." I was forced to go along with his demands. From that day on, I couldn't be with Tanaka and felt sad at the prospect. I wasn't in a position to argue, however, so I made up my mind to do my best. "Yes, sir!" I replied again with a cheerful voice. Tanaka and I would go out separately, but we would still sleep on the same tatami and on Sundays we would be together. I reasoned that, as long as I could eat and could go to school one day and as long as I had money to send to my mother, all would be well.

I was na'ive, but there was a reason for it. Tanaka had told me that the wages for soliciting were based on the number of orders. There was no fixed salary as there was for delivering. lf the results were good, then one's income was good. Soliciting was

Paperho"v 35

daytime work, and I reminded myself that I could attend one of Tokyo's many night

schools. From that day on, I left the shop every morning with the aim of soliciting

subscriptions. I left at eight o'clock, ate some bread at noon for lunch and returned to the shop at about six. If it was earlier or later in the day, I couldn't very well knock on people's doors. On the first day, I got only six subscribers, on the second, eight, and on the third, ten. After that, it was always between seven and ten subscribers a day. The boss' attitude toward me began to change. Every day, when I handed him the day's orders, he would fix me with his angry stare and say that my results were poor. On the tenth day of my employment, he spoke to me even more angrily. "Your results are terrible! Any less then fifteen a day won't do. How do you expect to eat on seven or

eight?" When the boss raised the question of eating, I began to feel nervous. "Fifteen

subscriptions!" I thought to myself. "That's twice as many as now. It's impossible! They kick you out like a dog, then slam the door in your face. What're you supposed to do then? If they insist they don't want to subscribe, even if I bow my head lower, I won't get better results." I occasionally encountered a soft-hearted soul, who saw that I was about to cry. These individuals reluctantly agreed to a month's "sympathy subscription",

but there wcren' t many of them. I began to feel nervous.

The next day, I left the shop before daybreak. But soliciting is not the same as delivering because it's necessary to meet people face-to-face, so getting up earlier is useless. I had to pace the street in the dark, waiting for people to get up and open their doors so I could rush over. One afterthe other, I approached these opened doors. Bowing, I told them in a mixture of truth and lies about how good the paper was. I pressed on all the way into the night and even drummed up the courage to open some doors myself. The results, however, were pitiful. One family even thought I was a thief and set their fierce dog on me. I sprinted away, stumbling, and it almost bit me.

7

That day, I solicited eleven subscribers with great difficulty, four short of the boss' demands. I had thought of soliciting some more before returning to the shop, but when I remembered the dog, I lost my nerve. I got back to the shop at ten minutes to ten, completely exhausted. The paperboys were all fast asleep, and the boss had gone home. I washed my feet and went upstairs. Tanaka was still awake, and he quickly squeezed open a space for me to lie down in. I inserted myself under the quilt.

"How come you're so late?" I could tell he had been worrying.

I hung my head in reply and shook it miserably. That night, I couldn't sleep, and

36 Renditions Spring 1995

when the buzzer went in the middle of the night, everyone got up in total confusion as usual and ran downstairs. This was followed by the usual rustling sound of the papers being stacked. I didn't get any peace until I heard the door being slammed. When that happened, the loft became my private domain: I could stretch my arms and legs as I liked, roll over and go back to sleep. But my eyes stayed open. I gazed out at the pitch black, thinking this and that and put off getting up until the boys returned. Even then, I had to wait until the boss came to the office in order to report the previous day's results before going out again. I sat in my usual place and looked out of the little window. The sun had just risen, the whole street was ablaze with light, and the air was fresh. Being a country lad, I had keenly felt the poor quality of the city air, which oppressed me.

After I had waited a long time, the boss finally arrived, a leather case under his arm. I quickly ran downstairs and gave him the subscriptions. Eleven was less than what he had specified; none the less, it was better than my previous results, and it would be clear to him that I had done my utmost. I didn't dare hope for praise, but what he said dumbfounded me. After counting the order forms, he snarled, "Eleven? ... No good, no good! This won't do!"

I began to fear for my job. I didn't dare protest, but wondered if there was something better than living like a slave! 1 was free, of course, and could leave at any time, but ifl did, I couldn't eat and, what was worse, couldn't repay Tanaka. I couldn't leave, no matter what! "Yes ... Yes, sir," I was compelled to reply, then took up the order forms and went out to solicit. Feeling defeated before I had even begun, I was destined to fail, and, as a consequence, that day was particularly grim. The six subscriptions I succeeded in getting were almost all sympathy subscriptions. I was so miserable I was on the point of tears. If eleven met with "'No good, no good!", how could I report only six? (Later I heard that in situations like this, the other workers falsified their numbers, thus padding their results. They paid the balance out of their own pocket, for which some even spent as much as half of their wages. The boss had no reason to cbject, naturally.)

The next day, I went up to the boss, terrified. When he heard me say "six", his expression changed, and he flew into a towering rage. His face swelled red, and he banged the table with his fist. "Six?'! ... What the hell are you here for anyway? To start with, your deposit was less than I required, but I still took you in out of the kindness of my heart. You promised you would work twice as hard as the others!" The boss halted his harangue to take a sip of tea, then re-counted the order forms. "You and your kind are useless! Get out, you useless thing!!"

I have feelings just like anyone else, and the boss' tongue-lashing filled me with anger. But when I thought of the month I had spent walking through Tokyo and of all the unemployed, I gritted my teeth and willed myself to endure his abuse. 'Tll try harder. Please forgive me ... ," I was compelled to plead. But I had no idea just how 1 was to work harder. For the last few days, I had gone begging from one road to the other, up !

j

Paperboy 37

one alley-way and down the next, barely missing a house. Those people who had wanted to subscribe did so; those who did not, could not be forced to. There were a few who had reluctantly agreed when they saw me about to cry, but not many. From then on, my results got steadily worse - I found three or four a day, but they were all new to the

area. "According to regulations, wages are not paid for less than one month's work."

The boss pointed to the rules on the wall. "But seeing how pathetic you are, I'll make an exception in your case. I regret having to let you go, but your results are so poor that I have no choice." It was the twentieth day, and the boss had called me in. After lecturing me, he handed me a statement and four yen twenty-five cents, then turned back to his desk as though I didn't exist.

8

I looked blankly at the statement before me. On it was written the following:

Per solicited subscription: Total subscriptions: Total disbursement:

5 cents 85

4 yen 25 cents

Dismayed, I realized I was being fired. I reread the statement, focusing on the figure "4 yen 25 cents". I had worked at the Ozaki agency for twenty days in a row and felt there must be an error. But sensing that arguing with the boss would lead nowhere, I merely asked, "Isn't there a mistake in the amount?"

"Mistake? What mistake?" "I worked twenty days ... "

"Twenty days? What of it? One year or ten years, it's all the same. For someone with no results, where's the money to come from?"

" .... " I didn't know what to say. I calculated that with the additional six yen twenty cents from my security money, the total amount I should receive from the agency would be ten yen forty-five cents. After repaying Tanaka eight yen, I would be left with two yen forty-five cents. Unwilling to argue, however, I decided to just take the security money and leave. "What about the six yen twenty cents security money?"

When I said that, the boss looked at me as though I were an idiot. He replied sarcastically, "Your security money? If you hadn't reminded me, I would have clean forgotten! Here I am good enough to pay your wages, but then you go and demand your security money, too! I thought you said you agreed to all the regulations?"

My heart sank. What a fool I was' When I was first taken on, I worried about not

38 Renditions Spring 1995

having enough security money and hadn't read the rest of the regulations. With a hand pressed against my thumping chest, I read the rules on the wall. Skipping over the first three, I went to the fourth:

Security money returned only to those who have given more than four months' continuous service.

My blood boiled. The boss was looking at me out of the corner of his eye; he had a sarcastic sneer on his face. "Well? Are you still thinking of asking for your deposit? Go away like a good boy. If you hang around much longer, I won't give you one cent. You had a look just now, so you should know that the seventh rule states that no wages are paid for less than one month's work!"

Stunned by the fourth rule, I hadn't read on. I turned back and realized that it was just as he had said and that getting my wages really was special treatment. The rules were set by him and controlled by him; not even China's emperors were more privileged. Workers like me could do little about it! My eyes filled with tears. Taking the statement and my four yen twenty-five cents, I lurched out of the Ozaki Newspaper Delivery Agency - the place that only twenty days earlier had given me so much hope. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw that the notice "Paperboys Wanted" - the source of much suffering on my part- was still stuck up alluringly on the window pane. What a fine bait it was, so sure of snaring a victim in this city full of unemployment and hunger.

After I left the agency, I took a tram to Tanaka's school. I waited for him to get out of class, then told him what had happened. "I can repay you three yen now, but please wait till later for the rest. I'll have to think of something. I've got one yen twenty-five cents now ... no, the tram fare just now was another eight cents. I'd better keep what's left for the time being."

Tanaka shook his head, sighed, then pushed the money back at me. "Keep it! I can get by for now. Kids like us in this kind of situation have to help each other." He added that he had never intended to ask me to return any of what I owed him. "I never thought you'd be kicked out, too. Do you remember the teenage boy who was crying on the first day you came? He took the bait just like you did. He did terribly, and the boss cheated him out of his ten-yen deposit after six days. He didn't get a cent back."

What a bastard!

"We have to think of something. That 'Paperboys Wanted' sign is still stuck up on the window, and there's bound to be others who'll get snared. It's so hard to find a job." His mouth closed firmly as though he had made up his mind about something. Just then, the bell rang for class, and I shook Tanaka's hand, overwhelmed with gratitude again.

Paperboy 39

9

Leaving Tanaka's school deeply moved by his generosity, I walked in a daze to the main gate. I roused myself and stood helplessly at the intersection, wondering which way [should turn. I pondered for a moment, but was unable to decide and let myself be carried along by the crowd. As I walked aimlessly, two distinct images kept floating into my head like figures on a carousel: one was Tanaka who had gone to great lengths to provide me with food and shoes and, after my dismissal from the agency, had refused repayment of what he had lent me; the other was the Ozaki boss, who was a monster in human shape. For all the desperate, unemployed people struggling in the hell-holes of Tokyo, the boss' "Paperboys Wanted" was a snare used to cheat them out of their money. After working people like slaves, he then kicked them out without a cent. The boss' one and only concern was to line his own pocket.

As I dwelt on the image of the boss, I felt both my courage and my determination ebb and thought of abandoning my goals and returning home. But the fare for the steamer and the train would come to more than thirty yen, and in unfamiliar Tokyo I would never be able to find that kind of money.

I continued to walk and, without realizing where I was going, wandered into Ueno Park. I collapsed on a bench. There were many people walking by, and I didn't dare weep openly; instead, I let the sobs well up inside. I had only one thought and that was to go home to Tai wan, but then reminded myself of what there was there. I had come to Tokyo precisely because the situation back home was hopeless. Ifl begged everywhere, 1 might be able to scrape enough together for the fare home, but what then? I resolved then and there to stay in Tokyo and to continue to struggle. Eventually, as Tanaka had suggested, my luck might change.

When I thought of Tanaka, my spirits brightened. I had encountered a villain in Tokyo, but I had also found a good person and recalled the Japanese saying, "Although there are demons in this world, there are also buddhas." I decided that I could not leave Tanaka.

None the less, I was still confused. I recalled what had happened a few years ago in Taiwan and relived the events surrounding my father's death. I shuddered as I mused how the bloodsuckers back home were no different from those in Japan. If they had been any different, my ageing mother would never have agreed to my going so far away, and I would not be sitting here so miserably. My mother's one wish was to have our family stay together, and I myself loved our quiet countryside. If I had not been compelled to undertake a new life in Japan with all the risks it entailed, I would now be with my mother

and my younger brothers and sister, enjoying the peaceful life of my Taiwan village.

My family had owned and farmed its own land down to my father's generation. We possessed two hectares of paddy land and five of dry farmland. The family had

,_______

40 Renditions Spring 1995

worked hard and we had enjoyed a secure existence. A few years ago, however, the sugar refining company' in our village announced plans to set up a plant and it soon began lobbying to buy up local land. It goes without saying that the company's efforts yielded little fruit, for the simple reason that the peasants valued their land as much as life itself. With the exception of peasants up to their ears in debt, none were willing to give up their land.

But the company had the backing of the Japanese government. It wanted results and wouldn't give up until it got those results. After two or three days, the police bureau published a notice stating that a meeting would be held for the heads of households and circulated it through the tithing and ward heads." The notice was sent to every family who held land in the village, and below the notice, it was clearly stated that they must bring their seals.

I was fifteen years old and in grade five. Although all this happened years ago, the impression it made was so deep that I remember it all clearly. The village was swept up in a wave of terror, and land-agents were going around telling people, "Those who won't sell will be forced to. If you refuse, you'll have to deal with the police." So when we got the notices, and everyone knew what the meeting was all about, there was panic.

My father was head of a ward. One after another, peasants within his ward hurried to our house, their faces wet with tears. In quavering voices, they asked, "What's going to happen?"; "What should we do?"

Father's answer to each of them was firm. "It's our land. We have to farm it to survive. We can't sell and that's that! Whoever comes, the answer is the same!"

10

This was my father's answer, even though he had been ward head for many years and possessed inside knowledge of the Japanese police in Taiwan. Quite possibly, doubts lurked below his surface resolve. I had often heard my father talk about his "principles", and now that the time had come to pit principle against brute force, he would quite likely sacrifice everything. Several times during the last few days, I had discovered him secretly weeping.

3

The sugar refining company was one of a number of corporations under the giant trust, the Taiwan Sugar Association. During the Japanese occupation. the policy of land enclosure, i.e., the acquisition of Taiwanese landholdings by the sugar industry related in this story. resulted from the development policy of the Japanese colonial government.

4

The ward and tithing are administrative units. The tithing (jia !Jl ) consists of ten households; ten tithings is equal to one ward (bao l* ). Traditionally in China, the baojia was a social organization designed according to household groups. In Taiwan, it was resurrected by the Japanese colonial government for purposes of control.

Paperboy 41

The meeting was· held in the Matsu Temple' in the centre of the village at one o'clock in the afternoon of the day after the notice had been issued. It was very tense. We were warned that those who didn't attend would be severely punished; thus, all the household heads showed up, comprising several hundred people, who crammed into the large temple. There was no school in the afternoons, so I hid in a corner to watch. Having

seen my father weep, I was very worried.

A bell rang, and a big-bellied, bald man got up onto a table and addressed the

gathering in a loud, pompous voice:

"The Japanese sugar refining company has decided to construct a large plant on the northern side of the village. This is for the benefit of the entire village, so we want to acquire the land in that area. Many days ago, we posted maps and invited everyone who owns land in that area. to bring their seals to the company office to arrange the transfer. But so far, not one person has co-operated. The raw materials committee went to great trouble to inquire into who the landholders are, but it seems that there is some kind of plot going on - a plan to sabotage the company's project - because not one person has complied. On the face of it, these facts could be seen as evidence of a communal conspiracy, but the company doesn't wish to treat it that way because there'd be nothing to be gained. Instead, we've decided to assemble everyone here today to discuss the matter. In a moment, His Honour the chief of police and the village head will say a few words to make sure that everyone clearly understands the advantages of the project. After they have spoken, all of you can come forward confidently to stamp your seal on this paper. The company is prepared to pay a higher price than usual. Hrrumphl"

The speech was translated by our fifth-grade teacher, Mr Chen. He deliberately stressed the words "plot" and "conspiracy". Everyone was seized with fear.

The next to speak was the Honourable Police Inspector's Assistant, the chief of the village police. When he got up on the table, he swept his eyes over the room coldly, then began to yell:

"Just now Mr Yamamura stated that the plans of the sugar refining company have been made solely for the benefit of the village. Think about it! You will sell your land to the company and you'll get a good price! A lot of money will flow into the village,

and after the company has constructed a large model farm, the village will become famous throughout the world. People from all over will come here to see it, and the village will develop by leaps and bounds. You ought to feel honoured, and we should all be sincerely grateful to the company. But instead, I understand that some people have been plotting to resist the sale of land. What kind of nonsense is this?l The project is for

5 f Matsu is the goddess of the sea in the folk religion of Taiwan and Fujian. She is worshipped by the ishermen of these areas.

42 Renditions Spring 1995

the good of the whole village and it's also national policy. Those who oppose national policy are guilty of sedition and will not be pardoned!"

The interpreter for this speech was Constable Lin. Just as Mr Chen had stressed the words "plot" and "conspiracy", Lin emphasized "sedition" and "will not be pardoned". Everyone shuddered and looked at his neighbour in dismay. They all remembered the Tabani Incident when the Japanese had sent troops into the Tabani region of Tainan to quell the rebel, Yu Qingfeng, who was later charged with sedition.6 A lot of blood had been spilled.

The village head was the last to stand up. Known to everyone as a yes-man, he spoke softly and with the mellowness of old age:

"In my opinion, you had all better do what the police chief demands and gratefully accept the good intentions of the company." After speaking, he took out a notepad and began calling out names. The first to be called assumed that they were being regarded as "plotters". Overcome with fear, they did not dare stand up. When the police chief said, "You can go now", they sat unmoving and quaking with fear. They roused themselves and fled outside the temple only with his second yell of "Get out!" Running all the way home, they wondered in a mindless panic if they would be called back.

About eighty names were called out. It turned out that none of these eighty peasants owned land in the designated area and they all left. It was then the turn of those who remained to become nervous. My father was among these. A murmuring arose; heads were craned, ears were cocked, and people anxiously asked themselves, "Will they call out other names? Will they call my name?" They waited, growing increasingly appre- hensive.

Then the village head stepped forward. "Everyone present will now take out their seals. Those who are called forward will just stamp their seal, then they can go." The first person to be called was my father. "Yang Ming ... "

When I heard my father's name, I felt the blood drain out of me. I stopped breathing and unconsciously clenched my fists. I stood up to see better. Like everyone else, I wondered what was going to happen.

My father went up quietly before the village head and, in a voice like a bell, said with iron resolution, "I must farm my land to live. I can't sell it, so I didn't bring my seal." Immediately, the attnosphere in the temple became very tense.

6

The Tabani Incident, also called the Xi lai Nunnery Incident, was the last of eleven rebellions against Japanese rule. The incident took place in August 1915, and comprised an attack by Yu Qingfeng and his followers on several police outposts in Tainan. Japanese troops surrounded the area and captured the leaders. The incident ended with the execution of more than 900 people by the Japanese military.

Paperboy 43

11

"What's this? Aren't you a ward head? You of all people ought to follow national policy and be an example to others, but I see you've become the ringleader instead! This is disgraceful!!" the police chief growled angrily. He stepped forward, glaring at my father. But my father stood his ground quietly. Seeing him so composed, the chief became more incensed and, moving nearer, said to him, "Say that again ... "

"I must farm my land to live. I can't sell it, so I didn't bring my seal!" my father

repeated calmly. "Chinese pig! Lock him up!!" The police chief slapped my father's face, then

barked out his order to the waiting policemen. The other villagers watched, even more terrified. Many of them did just as the

village head requested: as soon as they heard their name, they took out their chop, stamped their seal, then sprinted outside, not daring to look back. Later, I heard that after everyone had been called forward, there were only four others who had refused to stamp their seal with the same determination as my father. One by one, they were dragged off to the village police station just like he had been. When I saw my father being taken away, I had run home immediately to tell my mother.

When my mother heard the news, she fainted. Fortunately, my paternal uncle lived next door and he came hurrying over to help. Her life was saved, but during the next six days until my father returned, my mother wept continuously, lost her appetite and was unable to sleep. She grew so thin that she was barely recognizable. Country folk are terrified of officials and even more of jail, and this fear gave the Japanese police licence to do what they wanted. As a consequence, they had no scruples whatsoever.

My father returned on the seventh day. Normally he was neatly turned out, but on that day he was barely recognizable. His face was distorted, the left cheek was swollen, and one eye protruded. His forehead was a mass of welts, and his clothes were in tatters. As my father was changing his clothes, my younger brother, who did not understand what was going on, saw the dark, purple bruises all over my father's body and cried out, "Waahh! Daddy looks just like a spotted deer!"

From that time on, my father was a totally different person. In the past, whenever he had had free time, he used to romp with his children, happily and free of cares, but now he was silent. As he looked at us, the tears streamed down his face. Previously at mealtimes, he could eat three bowls of rice, but now, even one was an effort, and after a few days, he became so weak that he stayed in bed. When this happened, our once happy, sunny family became silent. My father lay in his bed for a month, then passed away, still nursing his grievance.

When this happened, my mother also fell ill. I had two younger brothers and a sister, who were one, three, and four years old respectively, and our lives became very difficult.

44 Renditions Spring 1995

My uncle and aunt would come over whenever they had time; if they had not, we would have perished. These two people, however, had also been forced to sell land, and that which remained was not enough to support them. As a result, they were compelled to travel far to find odd jobs in order to make ends meet, and their lives were very hectic. In one fell swoop, the sugar refining company had driven a few hundred families from their land. Like my uncle and aunt, these families were forced to go to other villages and towns to find work ortoengage in trading, in which the first-come-first-served conditions bred fierce competition. The available jobs were all temporary and, as many days passed in idleness, the villagers were in a constant state of mental turmoil. The extent to which my aunt and uncle could help us was limited.

When my father had been released from jail, he had tossed six hundred yen onto the kitchen table, but the expenses arising from his injuries, my mother's illness and,

finally, his funeral, accounted for nearly all of it. When my mother recovered somewhat, we were obliged to sell the dry farmland to keep the wolf from the door. My father never explained the source of the six hundred yen; we all know, however, that the money derived from the paddy fields that the company had appropriated. Tire current value of the land was said to be about two thousand yen, but the company gave my father six hundred only, insisting that this was a good price.

On the day of the meeting, my father had refused to take his seal, vowing not to sell. The police had beaten him and, when their fists and boots did not yield what they wanted, they sent someone to our home to demand the seal from my mother. They threatened her, saying that if they didn't get my father's seal, he would never return. My

mother wished only for her husband's safe return and, naturally, looked everywhere for the seal, but it couldn't be found. None of us knew that in order to fortify his decision not to stamp his seal, my father had thrown it into the fire.

But the police had it all planned out. After failing to find the seal, they got another one made. All the documents involved in the appropriation of our land, including the seal register, the contract of sale and the record of transfer, were filled in in my father's name.

I found out about all this from Constable Chen, who later lost his job. "Your father was a wonderful man!" Chen glowed with admiration as he recalled what had happened. 'The four other fellows submitted, but your father resisted right to the very end. I said to him, 'Since you burned your seal, they've got another one carved for you. All the procedures are going ahead right now.' Your dad flew into a rage and said he would take the case to court. He kicked up a real fuss. I myself got the axe because I let on to him about it. But I'll never hold a grudge against your dad - he's a real hero. But it's a shame, one hand can't clap by itself ... "

Paperboy 45

12

After I finished primary school, I went everywhere looking for work just like all the other villagers, but what I earned was a mere drop in the bucket. It simply was not

enough to support an entire family. Ever since I was a youngster, my favourite hobby was reading. I had read many

biographies about worker-students who had accomplished a lot in their lives. I often told these stories to my mother, adding that I wanted to go to Tokyo one day to be a worker-student. After my father died, I knew that my mother was very lonely, and she reminded me that I was only a teenager and too young to leave home. My mother worried constantly about whether to let me go. Finally, when the money from the sale of the farmland was all used up, she assented to my leaving.

By the time the decision was made, my family had sold the ox and all our farming implements; her consent was evidence of the terrible depths to which the family had sunk. My ageing mother had never in her life gone to the next village, let alone been on a train, and she was stunned when I told her that I would be travelling many days by train and steamship and that I must cross a big sea before arriving in Japan. She must have shed many tears before at last coming to the decision to let me go.

We sold off everything, except for the house, that was worth any money, including the ox, the farming implements and the family bicycle. After we paid off our debts, a little over seventy yen remained. My mother kept ten yen for herself and put the rest in my pocket, saying, "You'll have to work very hard." She stood in the doorway to see me off, weeping as she uttered these few words of encouragement. I remember the scene as if it were yesterday.

Misery did not descend on our family alone: the four other peasants detained along with my father met the same fate. Even those who had quietly stamped their seals and given up their land did not fare much better. It was true that they were given priority in labouring for the model farm of the sugar company, but for twelve hours' work, they

earned at the most forty or fifty cents, and even this meagre employment was intermittent. The company's financial assets were huge, and as the land was now all concentrated in one area, agricultural machinery could be used, so even the oxen were out of a job. When all was said and done, the company needed only a few people to do odd jobs now and then. Ultimately, the villagers were compelled to sell off their possessions, and only the rate of sell-off varied. After these families had gradually used up the money from the sale of their land, and everything that could be sold had been sold, the villagers were left with no choice but to brave the dangers of moving away. The situation was just ex.actly the opposite of the "village development" that the authorities had so enthusiastically spoken of; instead, what they had brought about was nothing less than the disintegration of the village.

46 Renditions Spring 1995

Lost in my reverie, I did not notice the sun sink behind the mountains. The woods of Ueno were lost in darkness, and the lights at the foot of the mountain had begun to blaze. I became aware of the cold and oftbeemptiness in my belly. Yawning, I stretched, stood up, then walked down the hill. I entered a little restaurant in an alley, resolving to eat a good meal and recover my strength. I even drank two glasses of spirit. After finishing my meal, I headed back to the Honshu doss-house where I had stayed before, determined to have a good sleep. I had no sooner set foot inside the doorway than the proprietor recognized me. He spoke lo me at once. ··well! If it isn't the young Taiwanese gent! Long time no see. Where have you been lately?"

I couldn't say that I had been a paperboy, that I had lost my security money and my job after many days of hard work, so I merely said, "I was at a friend's ... "

"A friend's? ... Naaah! How could that be'l You've aged, I see, and you look worn out!" It was obvious that he didn't believe me, but he probably felt it would have been indiscreet to say so. He merely smiled and remarked, "We had a Korean gentleman here who disappeared for many days, didn't turn up till yesterday, in fact. I asked him where he'd gone off to, and he told me right off the bat, very frank-like, that he'd been off on the 'wireless'. Ha ha!"

"'Wireless'? ... What's the 'wireless'?" I was totally bewildered.

"Don't tell me you don'tknow about the wireless! Ha ha ha!! 'Wireless' is the same as 'broke' .

7

You go out on the town without a cent on you and have yourself a good time. You go into any old restaurant or bar, stuff yourself to the gills, get smashed, and when the waiter comes with the bill, well, you ain't got a cent. If you run into a mean bartender or waiter, sometimes you can't help getting a punch on the jaw. But when you wake up, you find you're not lying at the side of the road. No siree, you've just spent the night in the slammer! So there you go! You get to eat, get blasted and have a good sleep!! Not bad, ch?!"

As I listened to the old man, I felt myself slowly unwind. I replied, "Well, if you're so broke you don't care about face, this 'wireless' business doesn't sound like such a bad kind of job!"

The proprietor guffawed loudly, then, changing his tone, said, "Come on in. You look tired as hell. Come in and have yourself a good rest." But as I was going up the stairs, he continued his jesting. "Well then, Yang, maybe you've been up to this then?" He inserted his hand lightly into the front of his shirt, still insinuating that I must have spent time in jail. The proprietor assumed that in one way or another I had been up to no good. I hadn't understood what he meant by "wireless", but his gesture this time

needed no explanation: he was plainly asking whether I had been picking pockets. It

7

"Wireless" and "broke" have the same sound in Japanese.

Paperboy 47

suddenly dawned on me how the unemployed of Tokyo were surviving. Keeping my cool, I blushed and denied his allegation. "What kind of crazy talk is that? Who'd go

and do that kind of thing?" The old man still did not believe me, but refrained from questioning me further.

This type of activity was apparently very common here. Chuckling, he led me to my

room to sleep.

13

I sat down in my room and reflected on my appearance. I must have looked exhausted. It was Ii ttle wonder that the proprietor had thought that I had just been released from a jail cell. I stretched and was just getting ready to sleep when he suddenly clapped his hands, remembering something. "Oh yes, I almost forgot. You have a registered letter. I didn't know where you'd gone off to, so I just put it away. Wait a minute and I'll go get it for you." He ran back inside.

'That's strange," I thought to myself. Who would send me a registered letter?

The old man soon returned. I glanced at the envelope, saw that it was from my mother, and had a sense of foreboding. I wondered what could have happened to make her send a registered letter. With shaking hands, I tore open the envelope, and a draft for one hundred and twenty yen fell out. I doubted my sanity, and my chest gave a big thump. Word after word, I slowly deciphered my mother's scrawl, shocked by what I read. I had completely forgotten that the proprietor was still there and let the tears fall unheeded.

"What's happened?" The proprietor was looking at me, puzzled, but I was unable to answer. This was probably the first time that he had ever seen anyone receive money and cry. I could give him none of my attention, though, because there was no one in my little universe but my mother and her words. I walked over to the sleeping area and crawled under the quilt, then began to weep uncontrollably. My mother had written:

l

I got your letter in which you said that the situation in Tokyo is awjitl and that you would not be able to find a job right away. You took such a small amount of money with you when you left, and now you are alone and unemployed in Tokyo. When I think of you, I feel so worried I can't sleep. But it's no different here at home. Since the company started the farm, things have got worse and worse, and now it's abso- lutely hopeless. It's very had here now, so you mustn't weaken and think of returning home.

48 Renditions Spring 1995

The house has been sold. I got one hundred and.fifty yen for it and I'm sending you one hundred and twenty of it. You must think of

some way to gel a job soon and work hard when you do. When you've finally succeeded, you can come back home and look afier your one

remaining younger brother - um and Tieh are hath dead, and only Mi an is left. He's currently at your uncle's home. As for me, my health

is very poor now, and I don't expect to live much longer. I don't wa111 to

be a trouble to people after I've gone, so I've lefi thirty yen for my fimeral.

Every day, I pray for your success. But bef(1re this happens, you must not come back, no matter what. Life is hell here, and there is no way out. This is my only wish, so please remember it.

There was little difference between this letter and a last testament. I was worried sick and couldn't dislodge from my mind the thought that my mother was dead. "But that's absurd," I told myself. "It's not possible!" I tossed and turned ori the mat, shaking

my head in an attempt to get rid of this idea. But it was no use - I just could not sleep. I felt numb, so much so that I was even unaware of the fleas. I got up to look at the date

on the letter and saw it had been sent before I found the paperboy job. Already more than three weeks had passed since then. It occurred to me that a second letter had not arrived within this time, and I felt even more anxious.

Now that I had money, I could return to see what was going on back home. Whether or not I could come back to Tokyo did not enter my mind. Mother had written that I should not return - she had said that there was no way out in Taiwan, but wasn't it the same in Tokyo? Before I returned to Taiwan, I would have to find Tanaka to say goodbye and clear my debt. Tanaka was a wonderful friend, and I couldn't let him down.

The next morning, I waited impatiently for the first tram. I had left the doss-house very early, and it was a long time before it finally arrived; day had not yet broken. After boarding it, I stuck my head out of the window to feel the cold morning air against my face. I was dazed from both lack of sleep and excitement and only then did I feel myself relax. "Perhaps this is the last time I'll ever see Tokyo," I began thinking, and even forgot the evil face of the boss of the Ozaki newspaper agency. One by one, all the miserable

things that had happened to me fell away, and I began to feel that perhaps I shouldn't leave after all.

There were only a few passengers on the tram, but they all seemed to have jobs. Some recking of oil were probably just getting off the night-shift; others with lunch boxes, cleanly dressed, were probably going to the early shift. There was a lot of

unemployment in the city, but there were also many people who did have jobs. Wasn't it possible for a city the size of Tokyo to accommodate one more?

i

L

Paperbov 49

The whole of the previous night I had thought about my mother. Now I found that I had begun to falter in my decision to return to Taiwan. It's very had here .... Before

you succeed, you must not come hack .... My mother's words echoed in my head.

14

I was torn by contradictions. I could return to Taiwan .... Then again, I might find

that there was no work there. I wanted to leave Tokyo, but I might get lucky and find something here if I continued to search. I kept wavering. My admiration for Tanaka was a factor in my inclination to remain in Tokyo. Both the young boy and I had been cheated at the agency, but many paperboys had survived the boss' treatment and had gone to

school. I got off the tram, crossed one or two alleys and found my way to the little eating

place. I ate breakfast while I waited for Tanaka, and after a while, his route finished, he

came in. Tanaka always wore a sombre expression, but this morning he looked particularly

gloomy. His head was bent, and he seemed lost in thought. He sat down before me without even noticing l was there.

'Tanaka!"

He raised his head. "Hey! Good morning! Where did you stay last night?" "Where I used to stay - at the Honshu doss-house."

"I forgot to ask you where you were going yesterday. You're up early today'" His "early" had a questioning note in it.

"When I returned to the doss-house, I found my family had sent me some money a long time ago." I took the letter out of my pocket.

"Money? What's the big rush? Who knows when you'll find a job? You'd better hang on to it!"

"No, they sent a lot. On our way back, let's drop by the post office, OK?" After this, I came to the most important part of my news. "I've really come to ... "

"Oh no! Not all that polite stuff again!" Tanaka laughed in confusion.

"No. From the letter it seems that my mother is very sick. I'm thinking of going back to see what's happening. I've come to say goodbye .... "

Tanaka looked straight at me and asked sadly, "She told you to go back?"

"No, she told me not to go back. She said everything's hopeless back home. She told me to wait till I had succeeded here."

"Then, maybe it's not that serious?"

"No .... It is serious. It's been more than three weeks since she sent the letter, and I haven't had any more news. I'm very worried."

'!

50 Renditions Spring 1995

"None at all?" Tanaka was also very concerned.

Just then, a paperboy from the agency who was sitting beside us having breakfast suddenly interrupted us. "There's a letter for you! When I went to get the mail yesterday, I saw one there for you."

"I' II go get it. You wait here." Tanaka ran out without finishing his breakfast.

As my anxiety mounted, I went to the door of the restaurant to wait, and before long, Tanaka came running back, panting. My attention was riveted to the letter in his hand, and I ran up to take it from him. I realized at once that it was not from my mother but from my uncle. My emotions churned, and I tore open the envelope frantically and read the letter. My fears were verified: my mother was dead. She had died two weeks ago and, what was worse, she had died by her own hand! Everything went black, and I felt I was going to faint. Tanaka steadied me and led me over to lean against a wall. Pain and anger swept over me, and the tears streamed down my face.

My dearest child and my one and only hope,

It is very difficult for me to live on, and there is little point in it where you are concerned. I will only be a burden and cannot help you. With me gone, you will have fewer worries and can continue forward bravely.

My one remaining hope is that you persist until you achieve your goals. Then, l hope that you can do something for your people here who have sunk into the depths of hell. I can't ever describe the tragedy that has taken place in the village. Since you left for Tokyo, many villagers have found their deaths in the pond, and others have hanged themselves from the beams of their houses. Uncle Tan and his wife and their sons died the most horrible dealh -the entire family was consumed in afire.

When you succeed, you must return home to liberate your fellow villagers from their torment. But I would hate for you to come back proud and strutting. When we were suffering, others gave us so much, with no thought for themselves. You also must not think solely of yourself.

My fear is that you will come running back when you hear of my death. If you do so, you 'lljust be wasting money. That's why I have asked your uncle no/ to tell you for the time beinR ahout my decision.

Take care ofyourse/falways.

Mama

This was my mother's last will and testament. My mother had always been afraid of officials and ofjail, and she had passed out several times during my father's detention. During her lifetime, all she had ever wanted was fewer troubles and more peace. But

Paperboy 51

when troubles could not be avoided and peace was not to be had, my mother made herself strong. She did not hanker after life and she was unafraid of death. She wasn't the type to make a big hoo-ha, but on the other hand, with the things she believed in, she was

inflexible. I have an older brother who became an assistant constable. He relied on the

backing of the Japanese to bully the people in our district. When mother heard about this, she made inquiries and, finding it to be true, broke off relations with him. My mother's disowning of her own son is an example of her strength of character. After I left Taiwan, my mother had many troubles and anxieties. Throughout this time, however, she refused to accept even the least amount of assistance from my older brother, and in the end, a younger brother and sister were lost. My mother had settled my one remaining brother in the care of my uncle, then committed suicide. She was that kind of

woman.

15

When I recall all this now, I realize that if my mother had received more education and had read biographies about heroes and revolutionaries who fought hard to save people from misery, she would not have passed out when my father was arrested. Instead, she would have chosen a more practical and effective course of action. Ironically, I myself was torn with anguish by my mother's last words. Just like my mother during

my father's crisis, my strength was also gone. I lay propped against the wall for a long time before I finally regained control of my emotions. Then, I took up my uncle's letter again.

Your mother hanged herself at dawn on the xth day of x month. When I saw her, I immediately thought of cabling you. Then/ found her will which was still in her hand and/ understood her state of mind during her final moments. I have therefore acted according to her last wishes and have waited until now before contacting you.

Your mother placed much hope in you. She was afraid you would come running back to Taiwan upon receiving news of her death, spend- ing money and time for nothing. If you do so, you might miss your hig chance in Tokyo.

Your mother regarded you as the only son in whom she could place her hope. Your older brother is a selfish hooligan, damned by the whole community. Your little brother is too young to understand what is going on.

52 Renditions Spring 1995 ,,

Your mother made this decision in order to free you from any concerns you may have for her and to allow you to throw yourself into 1he pursuit of your goals, She said that if you returned to Taiwan,

abandoning your future, her death would have no meaning. On the contrary, it would only serve to ruin you.

Your younger brother is with me here. l will raise him well, so you need have no worries on his accoulll. Whatever you do, do not act

against your mother's wishes or act upon any impulse to return home.

No one can survive here, let alone get anywhere. Your mother is no longer with us. If you come back, you will not be able to see her or give her any comfort.

Take care in all ways.

Uncle

I realized that what my uncle said was right - my mother was gone, and I would never see her again. Gradually, all thought of returning home vanished: there was no longer a home to return to anyway. In that instant, I resolved that I would never return to Taiwan until I was in a position to do something for my hapless village.

As I read the letters, I was by turns disconsolate and agitated. My mind was in turmoil. Tanaka sat at my side, his hand on my shoulder and his eyes fixed on my face. Watching me fold the letter and put it in my pocket, he finally inquired with a note of anxiety in his voice, "What did he say?"

"My mother is dead!"

"Dead?" His eyes filled with tears. "When will you go back? At once?" "No, I won't go back." " ... ?"

"If I went back, I wouldn't be able to see her-she's been dead two weeks. Besides, her last words were for me not to return."

"Two weeks? Letters from Taiwan take that long?"

"No, it's not that. My mother asked my uncle not to tell me right away." "Why?"

"She was afraid that when I heard the news, I'd go running back. She hoped I'd make a life for myself here in Tokyo first. She said if! went back now, everything would be lost."

"What a terrific mother!" Tanaka sighed in admiration.

We both tried to finish our breakfast, but were too upset. In spite of Tanaka's objection, I paid the bill, then insisted that he come with me to the post office where I could cash my draft. At first he refused to accept repayment, but I forced the money into his pocket and, at last, felt relieved of this burden. I wrote down the address of the Honshu

53 Paperboy

doss-house, gave it to him and returned alone. As soon as I got to the doss-house, I crawled under the quilt. I was so exhausted

that I could barely stand. As I dozed, my mother's words kept coming back to me and, over and over, and l tried to think of some way to help my unhappy compatriots. I could save my money and relieve their poverty, I thought, but immediately dropped the idea. What a delusion! After walking the streets of Tokyo for a month, then enduring twenty days at the Ozaki Newspaper Delivery Agency, I could barely support myself, let alone save money for anyone else! Then, I suddenly felt immensely tired. The exhaustion of

the last two months overpowered me, and I fell into a deep sleep.

16

As I continued to sleep in the surrounding hubbub, it seemed that! was occasionally pushed up from the depths of a deep sea to the ocean's shallows. Many times, my consciousness came to a dim half-awareness, but I couldn't open my eyes and would

promptly drift back into a deep sleep. "Yang! Yang!" In a state of dim awareness, I heard my name being called and I even vaguely

answered. But once again sleep carried me away, and my eyes refused to open.

"Yang!" The shout came again, and I felt my foot being shaken. It was a formidable task

to open my eyes, and even after they were open, I was still not fully awake. Moving from deep sleep to normal consciousness was like standing in the midst of a thick fog and watching it slowly slip away. After a long while, I finally became aware of someone sitting beside me and that the person was none other than Tanaka. I kicked off

the quilt and sat up. Still drifting, l gazed around the room. The proprietor of the doss-house was standing beside the door, giggling. Seeing my discomfiture, he laughed and said, "Someone must've cast a spell on you! How many hours have you been asleep?"

I rubbed my eyes and asked, somewhat ashamed, "Is it evening?" "No, no, it's just past noon. Ha ha! But it's another day!" he laughed. It was true. I had gone to sleep at about noon the previous day, and it was now

one o'clock the next afternoon. I had slept a total of twenty-five hours. I was dumb- founded.

After the old man left, I turned to Tanaka. He looked very agitated and obviously had something urgent to tell me. 'Tm really sorry! Have you been waiting long?" l asked.

"No," he replied, then added excitedly, "but I've got something important to tell

54 Renditions Spring 1995

you. Yesterday, someone else was hooked by the 'Paperboys Wanted' sign. After you were kicked out, I kept thinking that there had to be some way to take action against the boss of the agency, but I couldn't think of anything. Then another person was hooked. I was very worried, so late last night I secretly called him outside to warn him. After he heard me, he only said, 'Really? What a dirty son-of-a-gun!' - he didn't seem upset. I told him that he'd better find another job or else he'd be in a for a lot of grief. I said to him that actually there weren't any vacancies for paperboys. 'In a day or two, you'll be sent to out to solicit subscribers,' I told him, 'then your security money will be confiscated. You'll be kicked out on your butt without a cent .... '

"But he still wasn't at all alarmed. He shook my hand and said, 'Thanks for the warning. Now, can I ask you something? When you saw your co-workers suffer like this, why didn't you do something about it?'

"That made me mad, and I replied, 'Aren't I doing something right now?' "'Thanks, but I can't just walk out and forget about it. There'll be others who'll

take the bait. Is it right that they contribute their ten yen to the boss for nothing?' " 'No, of course not, but what can you do about it?' I asked.

"'I can do something all right,' he said. 'But I don't know whether you're willing to help.'

"I swore to ally myself with him, then he told me his plan. He said that our one and only way to resist this type of fraud was solidarity. Only solidarity would give us the strength we need. If we weren't united and acted separately, we'd be trampled on like grains of sand. 'You should be able to understand this!' he said. 'When we take a course of resistance, we must act together. In this way, no matter how mean the bastard is, we can take such good care of him he won't dare deny a thing ... .'

"When he talked, he sounded like he had a lot of experience and he was very confident. I told him about the business in your village and what had happened to you here. He said, 'Huh!? Taiwanese have to take this kind of shit, too? I must meet him. You must introduce me to him at once!' "

17

I listened as Tanaka told me what the man, who was called Ito, wanted. I felt as though vigour and strength were being injected into my flagging spirits; I was like a dying lamp being replenished with oil. The prospect of dealing a blow to the man who had sucked our blood excited me immensely. My curiosity was piqued by Tanaka's new acquaintance, and I was eager to meet him. If he really had some means to handle the Ozaki boss, he could certainly contribute a few opinions on the situation back in Taiwan.

In Taiwan, I had been under the impression that all Japanese were evil and I had

Paperboy 55

loathed them. When I had arrived in Tokyo, I still felt suspicious, but now my feelings had changed. Other than the Ozaki boss, I had encountered many good people. One example was the proprietor of the doss-house who was a cheerful, good-hearted sort; there were also the many residents I had encountered while soliciting, who had readily assented to be sympathy subscribers to a paper they did not want to read. As for Tanaka, he was better than a brother. Actually, I would be wronging Tanaka if I compared him with my elder brother. Just as there were good and bad Taiwanese, so there were also

good and bad Japanese. Tanaka and I left the doss-house and went to meet Ito. We entered Asakusa Park

and walked to the far end. A young man, who was sitting under a tree, got up and walked over to us. He extended his strong hand and shook mine firmly, saying, "Yang! How are

you!" "How are you?" I uttered in return, although I was bemused because we hadn't met

before. Tanaka had not said where we would meet Ito, but I knew at once when I saw Tanaka's expression that this was he. Immediately, a spirit of camaraderie sprang up between us.

"I lived in Taiwan for a while. Do you like the Japanese?" he asked without beating around the bush.

" .... "For a moment, I was speechless. It was the first time I had laid eyes on Ito, who had lived in Taiwan. I felt that he could not be a bad person; on the contrary, I felt that I would like him. In Taiwan, however, I had never encountered anyone like him. After a moment, I replied, "Mr Tanaka is very nice. I really like him, but in Taiwan I never met any Japanese people like him."

"That's right. The majority of Japanese workers are just like Tanaka - they're considerate and not overbearing. The Japanese workers oppose the government of Japan oppressing and trampling on the Taiwanese. It's people with special privileges, those

like the boss of the Ozaki Newspaper Delivery Agency, who make the Taiwanese suffer. Most Japanese who go to Taiwan are this type. They not only treat you Taiwanese like this, but they also carry on this way in Japan. These people always try to take advantage of others, to get rich on the labour of other people, and will even use fraud to get their own way. They don't give a damn about how they do it and will do anything in order to carry out their double-dealing, including oppressing and controlling other people."

Word after word echoed in my brain. I learned more during the few short minutes With Ito than I had during my six years in school. The village head back home is Taiwanese, I reminded myself, and my brother is also Taiwanese, but in order to gain advantage forthemselves, they attached themselves to the Japanese authorities. In short, they became the running dogs of the Japanese. The villagers suffered a great deal on account of the two of them.

In turn, I recounted in detail everything that had happened back home, stressing

:l1!

..

56 Renditions Spring 1995

the enforced selling of land. Ito listened attentively, his face reddened and he became very excited. "Right! Let's join hands in our struggle! Those who oppressed you in

Taiwan and those who oppress us here in Japan are the same! They're our common enemy!!"

The third day after meeting Ito, I found employment through him in a toy factory in the Asakusa district, and after this, my life became more settled. Whenever I had free time, I looked him up and discussed any doubts or problems I had with him. His answers were always to the point. Gradually, my self-confidence strengthened and never wavered again.

Ito introduced me to many friends and took me to meetings and lectures. Once, I was even dragged up onto the platform to tell an audience of several thousand people what had happened in my village in Taiwan.

Some months afterward, a strike broke out at the Ozaki Newspaper Delivery Agency. When I saw the glistening, pompous face of the boss hanging low before the unified line of paperboys, my heart leaped for joy. I yearned to give that fat face a punch and make it stream with blood. None the less, I controlled myself, feeling that it was more important to force the boss to recognize the demands of the paperboys than to assuage my own resentment.

At last, the "Paperboys Wanted" sign - that bait for the unemployed-was torn down. Furthermore, the strike succeeded in abolishing the unreasonable, arbitrary regulations of the agency. Wages for soliciting were increased to ten cents per subscrip- tion; two new tatami mats were allocated per person in the sleeping area, with one quilt

each; and the house next door was rented as a dorm. The workers also demanded the immediate elimination of fleas. In light of this success, how could anyone say that

workers have no determination or that they are weak? Who would dare decree that workers must live a life worse than a pig's?

At the celebration of the Ozaki victory, I stood on the platform again to report on my village. This time, I revealed my mission to return home and carry on the struggle

in Taiwan. The more I talked, the more excited I became, and the audience responded enthusiastically. When I uttered the last sentence and was about to descend from the

platform, my listeners began clapping and cheering loudly, "Go to it! Do it!!" The meeting became my farewell send-off, and I felt like a soldier departing for the front line.

The next day I left for Taiwan. I was far from being arrogant as my mother had feared; instead, I was still dressed in my work clothes. Many known and unknown friends

came to see me off at Tokyo train station and offered me a farewell handshake. The excitement we all felt did away with the usual sorrow of parting.

As far as my mother's will was concerned, the lessons I had learned during the last few months could not have been more relevant. Full of confidence, I gazed at Taiwan

Paperbov 57

in the spring from the deck of the Holai Maru. Under Japanese colonial imperialism, this "Jewel Island" was a picture of fabulous beauty: one prick to that lush surface, however, was enough to unleash a river of putrid bitterness.

I L_

/; .. i ! !Ji.: i]. -- ,.,,. q ';~~ - ------:-_:__ - ~

:;-:

From Fengjing swniao hua.