A Tomb Keeper in the Village

By Han Haoyue

I was really reluctant to visit Dabuzi, a village in Shandong Province that I had left in my childhood. But my third uncle always told me that I should “go back to respectfully visit” my father’s grave.

It’s 35 kilometers from the nearest county town to Dabuzi. I feel I have to mention the terrible condition of infrastructure in the past. Especially on rainy or snowy days, the bumpy and muddy road just made it an incredibly long journey.

Anyway, I did go back there at least once a year, mostly before the Chinese New Year.

Visiting the grave was like a solemn ceremony for my uncle.On each day we were going to do this, he would have his wife make dumplings and stir-fried dishes.He made some paper-cuttings (a kind of paper that hangs on the tomb) himself with my help. All these tasks would take three to four hours, and this always made me burn with anxiety, knowing that I would have to go back to town in the dark.

少年離開大埠子的我萬般不情愿回到這里，三叔每次都語重心長地勸我：“你要回來，給你父親上墳。”

大埠子距縣城35公里。以前那里交通極不方便，路坑坑洼洼，雨雪天泥濘不堪，每次去都覺得無比漫長。

不管怎樣，我每年至少小年時要回去一趟。

上墳對三叔來說，是很鄭重的儀式，他會安排三嬸包水餃、炒菜，帶我們剪火紙。這個流程要三四個小時，常常讓我心急如焚——上完墳天就快黑了，還要趕路回縣城。

有一次，三叔在我父親墳前說：“你們都走遠了，不想回來了，以后你們的孩子，也慢慢忘記這里了。沒關系，只要你還能來就好。以后的子孫們，不想來就不來了，反正我還在這里，還能守幾十年。只要我一天還能動，就會來給你父親、爺爺上墳?！?/p>

My uncle once said to me before my father’s grave, “You boys all have left home to somewhere far away,and don’t want to come back. Sooner or later your children will forget this place. Well, it doesn’t matter, since you can come back sometimes. As for the next generations, they won’t remember, and so be it. Anyway, I’m still here, and will be here for several decades. As long as I can move my legs,I will visit the graves of your father and your grandfather.

Tears were on my uncle’s face, and on mine as well. Since then, I have been willing to come back, and tried my best to console him.

My uncle was already in his fifties.How long could he accompany the dozen tombs? He said it was alright, as his son would take his place when he passed away.

My younger cousin (my uncle’s son, the third oldest family boy of my generation) is a freight-driver who transports goods all around China. But no matter how far he goes away, during his vacation he comes all the way back to the village, and to his father.

Several times I suggested that my uncle and my cousin (who was already married) ought to move from the village to the county town, where they could easily make more money,live a better life, and provide better education for the children. But my uncle just would not leave.

My uncle has lived many years in his house, in the north of Dabuzi, with a yard. Whenever I drove back to the village, I knew where to make a turn and park my car in his yard. One step into his house and a feeling of warmth and belonging would flood my heart.

The ginkgo tree I had planted in my early days has grown very tall. The water well is still in the center of the yard; the pressurizing device on the well is rusted, but it still works. When my daughter was two years old, she visited my uncle’s yard and had so much fun with the device. Now she is already seven, and still plays the same game when we go back.

Since my forties, I have often asked myself in my mind, that if there was a possibility of returning to Dabuzi in one or two decades, when I could rent a house in the village, or just live in my uncle’s house. In our spare time we would have a drink and talk about the past.

That was something I had never thought of, or was reluctant to think of, when I was younger. But finally I understood why my uncle was willing to be a lonely grave keeper in a remote village.

What he has been keeping is not only his deceased families, but also a precious feeling in his heart, and a warm place that he calls home.◆

(FromCaixin Weekly, Issue 46,2017. Translation: Wang Xiaoke)

三叔說這段話時哭了，我也哭了。從此老老實實，到點就回大埠子給親人上墳，也安慰一下三叔。

三叔五十多歲了，還能在那十來座墳墓前守多長時間？他說沒關系，他不在了，還有他的兒子。

三弟是名長途貨運司機，經(jīng)常全國各地跑，但無論跑多遠，都會把他的大車開回大埠子，陪著他的父親。

我多次建議三叔和已成家的三弟，離開大埠子，到縣城去生活。畢竟城里生活條件好，掙錢也容易，孩子得到的教育也比鄉(xiāng)下強，但三叔執(zhí)意不愿離開。

三叔在大埠子村的北邊，有一座住了很多年的院子。每次進了村莊，拐彎把車停到他院子門口，就要踏進他家門的時候，心里總是感到無比的親切、踏實。

我小時候栽下的銀杏樹，已經(jīng)長很高了。院子中央的壓水井，生了銹，但還是能輕易壓出水來。女兒兩歲的時候到三叔家，就喜歡玩那個壓水井，如今七歲了，每年回去，仍然會壓水玩。

四十歲之后，我腦海里時常會冒出一種想法：有沒有一種可能，在十年或者二十年之后，我也回到大埠子村，在村里租一間房子，或者干脆住到三叔家里?？臻e的時候，我們爺倆喝一杯，談談往事。

這是我年輕時從來沒想過，也不愿意想的事情。這個時候，才真正明白，三叔為什么甘愿在那個偏僻的村莊，當一個孤獨的守墓者。

他守住的，其實不是一位位去世的親人，而是一份他內(nèi)心珍貴的情感，還有他覺得溫暖的環(huán)境。◆