Dreams of Joy (Shanghai Girls 2)

We pass blast furnaces, and I recognize several women who used to come to Z.G.’s art classes stoking the fires.

“Kumei, tell our guests about women in our village,” the brigade leader orders.

“We women have been emancipated from the narrow confines of our homes.” Her voice is filled with as much enthusiasm as ever. “With the Great Leap Forward, we no longer have the drudgery of being wives and mothers. We no longer hold parasitical positions in the home. We’ve been freed from our frustrating and self-centered lives.”

“Everything the people were promised when I was last here has come to pass—from the telephone to food for everyone to the true liberation of women,” I say.

The brigade leader gives me an appreciative smile, but leave it to my mother to see the hair in the glass of milk.

“Excuse me, but may I ask who takes care of the children?” she asks. “Who washes the clothes? Who makes the meals? Who cares for the old and the sick?”

My mother can be such a pain, but the brigade leader responds with jovial laughter.

“It must be hard for you, a woman of your age, to accept that things have changed,” he says. (This does not go over well with my mom.) “The people’s commune offers child care, a laundry, and a canteen—”

“Wonderful,” my mother says. “I’d like to see them. Are men running those enterprises?”

The brigade leader starts to bluster. “The canteen sets women free. They are untethered from the grindstone and the wok—”

“Things certainly are happier now,” Sung-ling says, stepping between my mother and the brigade leader. She takes my mother’s elbow and leads her to the villa. We drop our bags in the front courtyard, just as I did my first night here. Then we leave again, walking along the path that abuts the villa’s wall. Huge posters depicting commune life, steel and iron production, fishing, and new roads in the countryside have been pasted to the wall. We cross the little bridge and continue, walking on the path that runs parallel to the stream. I wish Tao and I could detour to the Charity Pavilion, but he’s up ahead with Z.G. The two of them have their heads together, talking animatedly.

“At last we can do the same work and enjoy the same food as our fathers, husbands, sons, and brothers,” Sung-ling continues. “No more leftovers for us. We’re each paid according to our work. The more work we do, the more we’re paid. Now I can spend my money as I please. No man can tell me what to do. Every woman is the boss—and owner—of herself. This is a good thing, don’t you agree?”

“Yes,” my mother admits. “These are all good things.”

I smile. Finally, Mom has heard something she likes.

“The people’s commune is truly fine,” Sung-ling adds. “No single list can tabulate all its advantages.”

“The people’s commune is great!” Kumei practically shouts. When people look her way, she blushes, looks down, and then covers her scar with her hand.

“Kumei is right.” This comes from Tao. “Fortune smiles on us all!”

Even though it’s blisteringly hot, a shiver of excitement runs down my spine. I’m happy to be back here. These are my friends and this is my place.

After about ten minutes, we cross over another stone bridge. Rice paddies spread out to our right. We veer left past squash, corn, and sweet potato fields. Just ahead is a series of buildings, of which all but one are constructed with dried cornstalks lashed together as walls and roofs over bamboo frames.

Brigade Leader Lai thrusts out his arm dramatically. “The Dandelion Number Eight People’s Commune! That building houses our kindergarten. We have the Happiness Garden—a home for the aged—”

“Is it made of cornstalks too?” my mother asks.

Brigade Leader Lai ignores her. “We’ve built a maternity courtyard in another village, but here we have a clinic and a nursery for children too young for school. That building over there is the canteen. Yes, it’s made out of cornstalks. Nothing is wasted.”

“Where will I hold my classes?” Z.G. asks. “We have a lot of art to create for Chairman Mao.”

Party Secretary Feng Jin’s brow furrows. “I thought you’d still want to do that in Green Dragon’s ancestral hall.”

“No, this must be a communewide enterprise. Everyone must create art. That is the mandate.”

“What about producing steel?” the brigade leader asks. “We have a quota to fill—”

“More important, what about the harvest?” The Party secretary continues to wear a worried look.

“These are my orders,” Z.G. says, not without sympath

y. “We all must do our best to fulfill Chairman Mao’s wishes.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do! You will lead us right here in this field.” Brigade Leader Lai makes a fist and raises it in the air. This causes Sung-ling, Tao, Kumei, and the others who’ve been following us to break into rhythmic shouts: “The people’s commune is great! Long live Chairman Mao!” I copy them, raising my clenched fist and shouting too. With everyone staring at them, Z.G. and my mom join in. I’m so glad we brought my mother, because she’s finally starting to see what I see and feel what I feel.