APPRECIATION OF CHINESE LITERATURE(3)

The People of Liangshan

Feng Liang

Sichuan Literature and Art Publishing House

January 2022

48.00 （CNY）

Each essay in the collection of nine essays on the subject of the Yi people is written in a retrospective style to depict an archetypal Yi character. For example， the ancestors who were the strongest Yi people， the elder brother deeply influenced by Yi culture， the shy mother， the Yi priest who had to face a completely different life in the old and new times， Grandma Ou， and so on. The portrayal of these individuals allows the author to reveal the culture and customs of the Yi people， as well as the changes that took place in Yi society over the decades. The essays are written in a natural and genuine style that flows like a stream of water. Despite its seemingly relaxed tone， the writer manages to portray the weight of a string of historical and cultural events in a way that leaves a strong imprint.

Feng Liang

Feng Liang graduated from the Department of Chinese Language and Literature at the Minzu University of China in 1984. She began publishing her works in 1987 and joined China Writers Association in 1997. She is the former deputy editor-in-chief of China Tibetology Publishing House. She is the author of the novels Southwest Side， Tibetan Story， Qin’e， and a collection of essays Mothers and Fathers of the Yi.

My cousin， needless to say， is also of Yi ethnicity， and she loves to drink.

Like anyone keen on drinking， she becomes a lot more talkative when she gets tipsy. She is usually funny and witty and being drunk seems to enhance that part of her nature. As the saying goes， her tongue gets as slippery as if it was greased， making everyone who listens to her giggle like children.

Once， we were gathering at the home of a junior family member in Chengdu. After we were a while into drinking， my cousin began to tell stories again. The topic then was “We Yi people are a shy lot”. According to my cousin， this topic arose from a Yi culturati who taught at the Minzu University of China when she was in college.

My cousin claimed that she was merely recounting one of that teacher’s lectures about the character of the Yi people.

My cousin and I are alumni， and although she is six or seven years my senior， we were only three grades apart. After studying together for a year， she stayed in school and became a teacher， and we became closer， or more precisely， I liked to follow her around and quite enjoyed hanging out with her and following her here and there. It was true that there were plenty of public speeches and performances in the early to mid-1980s， and a burst of new ideas blossomed after a long period of repression. However， I have no recollection of any speech or lecture on the topic of “We Yi people are a shy lot”. I asked many of my fellow Yi alumni， and they had never heard of it either. That’s pretty strange since she can’t possibly be the only one who has heard it. “You can believe me or not，” she said to me. I guess I’ll believe her for now.

So the speech began like this：

“We Yi people are a shy lot. Why is that？” She then went on to tell the story of a father-in-law and daughter-in-law sitting on two sides of the stone stove to engage in a so-called conversation， and the purpose of their chat was actually quite simple： What’s for dinner？ Coincidentally， the mother and son of the family were both absent， or they could simply have direct communication between the mother and daughter-in-law， or between the son and father. But unfortunately， they were not around at the time， and it was really time to decide what they were going to have for dinner if they didn’t want to go hungry！ Hence the father-in-law asked， “Dear stone stove， what are we eating tonight？” The daughter-in-law replied， “Oh dear stone stove， tonight we shall eat potato tuotuo （stir-fried potato wedges） and buckwheat baba （steamed buckwheat bread/buns）.” The two were apparently conversing through the potlatch set in between them.

As she got to this part， my cousin turned to us and asked rhetorically： Why did they do this？ Then she answered her own questions and said， “It’s because we Yi people are a shy lot， and being such a shy lot， the father-in-law and daughter-in-law are not allowed to speak directly to each other.” In the process of narrating， my cousin gave full play to her potential acting talent and adorned her words with plenty of tones and gestures. She kept repeating the statement “We Yi people are a shy lot” and asking “Why is that？” over and over again， while intentionally mimicking the rusty style in which the Yi people normally spoke Mandarin， which was absolutely hilarious.

Just like anyone with a good sense of humor， my cousin not only didn’t laugh at her own jokes while others were cracking themselves up， but she remained dignified and kept repeating “We Yi people are a shy lot” in a deadpan manner. Not only can fathers and daughters-in-law of the Yi people not talk to each other， but they cannot even get too close to one another， with the ideal distance between them being around six feet. In case either party suddenly and unintentionally gets too close， the other party will rise up and shout， “Please excuse me！”

This is the reality of Yi society as recorded by the Tusi （a general term for a class of official posts in ancient China， usually held by tribal leaders of ethnic minorities in northwest and southwest China） of Liangshan， called Ling Guangdian sixty years ago. Ever since then， Liangshan has experienced earth-shattering changes. However， it is always difficult to change customs， and such rituals as the avoidance of contact between fathers and daughters-in-law still exist in the Yi community in Liangshan. Although the extent varies， from it being less prominent in the cities to more prominent in the countryside， especially in the more remote areas.

What is the reason behind it？ The Tusi as mentioned above has a theory. Apparently， the phenomenon probably originated from an age-old traditional custom in which fathers-in-law and brothers-in-law tried too hard in kidnapping brides for their own sons or brothers， which infuriated the daughters and sisters-in-law， and over time it evolved into the custom of avoiding each other when possible. I guess it makes sense？ By the time bride kidnapping had become a ritualistic formality， it seems to me that my cousin’s depiction of shyness can be a way to explain why fathers and daughters-in-law continue avoiding one another. I don’t know what others may think， but I believe it is a pretty good idea to describe the Yi people’s character as shy.

Many times， I heard people comment on the zeal and generosity of ethnic minorities. When I was a child， I heard non-Yi people around me say， “Oh， the Yi people are so daring that men and women are always laughing and fooling around in the fields and on the hillsides and terraces.” This is probably directly related to what the speaker assumes as the proper way to behave， that men and women should never touch each other physically. Most importantly， I think the speaker may not be clear about the identity and age of the people who laughed and fooled around.

In fact， they tend to be young and unmarried men and women. If you asked him what’s so improper about their behavior， he’d definitely be left speechless， since young men and women from anywhere in the world like to play and fool around together， unless they are abnormal. After eliminating this factor， I would say that shyness is indeed a characteristic feature of the Yi people， and when you think about it， it is rather interesting to depict the two million or so Yi people from Liangshan or China as being shy.

In my hometown， the most common phrase grown-ups use to scold children is： “Why aren’t you shy about it！” They would snap at you for saying the wrong thing， doing something inappropriate， or simply for having the guts to express a little insight in full view of the public. This is a very harsh thing to say already， and they would also call you crazy or stupid， or even threaten to “stone you to death！” That’s pretty much how harsh it gets.

My stepmother， whom we called auntie （“Niang Niang”）， told me once that when she first started working， some men came from the provincial capital Chengdu to collect folk songs from a few Yi girls， including my auntie. In those days， someone had to sing while someone else had to translate because my auntie and her peers sang in Yi， and it was a super lively scene that attracted many onlookers， including Yi elders. As they witnessed their girls singing， laughing， and hanging around strange men， they got upset and scolded them for not feeling shy， that is， for being shameless！

I was told this story by my auntie when I was very young. She probably tried to scold me with the same words at that time， but she knew her tactics and would use her personal experience in an attempt to convince me. It was a pity that I couldn’t grasp what she was trying to convey to me in such a subtle way. The new generation of Liangshan people like me cannot possibly grasp the deep meaning of shyness. I simply retorted， “What’s shameful about singing a few songs？ And why did you stop singing just because the old man scolded you？ If you kept singing， I guarantee that at the very least， the Liangshan Prefecture Song and Dance Troupe would have recruited you long ago！”

Society did not advocate education when I was a child， mainly because there was no future in studying. Girls my age often fantasized about becoming a singing or dancing performer at the song and dance troupe of the prefecture， as it would make us feel very proud.

Needless to say， I made my auntie so angry that she grunted and had nothing to say.

To be frank， several of my siblings， especially my elder brother， have the reputation of being pretty shy in our town， and that’s why I think everyone seems to pity us a little.

Everyone would say， “Aww， these kids look just like their mom.” According to them， my mother who died at a young age was indeed a shy woman.

After I started working， I once attended an Yi society event in Guizhou and ran into one of my mother’s former classmates from when she was a student at Southwest Minzu University. When he heard that I was Li Guoying’s daughter， he naturally reminisced about her， and the first thing he said was， “Your mother was such a shy person！”

We were already waving goodbye at the time， and both of us were in a rush to leave. I was about to depart the hotel and board the bus that was sending us to the station. We had very little time to reminisce， and he got emotional upon learning all of a sudden that I was the daughter of his former classmate. However， I didn’t expect the first thing he remembered about my mother was her shyness.

He even managed to tell me a story about how my mother was shy in such a tight time frame.

He told me that once they had a group meeting to discuss a matter that he had already forgotten， but everyone was required to express their own opinions， and it was mandatory in order to pass.

That was in the early 1950s at which time the democratic reform in Liangshan had not yet begun， and the enslaved people had not been liberated yet. Naturally， their children were still herding their masters’ sheep and cattle in the mountains. In other words， those who were able to attend college at the Southwest Minzu University and receive education of the new society were mostly the so-called children of the United Front. Most of them came from families with certain social status in Liangshan. In my mother’s case， her family was very well known in the Yi community. The head of her family at that time was her third uncle. Her father died in a long-running war between enemy families.

My grandfather’s two brothers and my grandfather had all attended West China Union University in Chengdu. He was open-minded and able to adapt to the times and was among the first local upper-class people to contact the PLA （Chinese People’s Liberation Army）， and soon sent the family’s eldest children， my mother， and his eldest daughter， to be educated at the Southwest Minzu University in Chengdu. The children of a local Black Yi family with the surname Ma were also sent at the same time.

The exact time my mother studied at the Southwest Minzu University is unknown， and I have no way to determine her age at that time. However， given the time when the PLA entered Liangshan---1950---and the fact that she was born in 1935， and it was before 1955---the year when the democratic reform in Liangshan began---it is certain that my mother was between 17 and 20 years old at the time.

My mother’s hometown， Han Yuan， is now part of the Ya’an region in Sichuan Province， located 200 km from Chengdu. Nowadays， it is possible to take a trip and return within the day， but it was extremely difficult to travel over fifty years ago. It wasn’t only because of the lack of transport， but most importantly， due to the local forces along the way and all kinds of bandits and outlaws who were loaded with arms and would force you to hand over money if you wanted to pass through. If you ran into an enemy who bore a grudge with your ancestors， then your life was in grave danger！ Under those circumstances， no one dared to travel lighthearted， let alone women.

The situation had changed dramatically by the time my mother went to Chengdu to study at the Southwest Minzu University， as New China was founded in October of the previous year---1949---and Chengdu， a stubborn stronghold in the southwest， was eventually conquered. The road to Chengdu was no longer dangerous. There were many people who went with her， and she had already experienced the death of both her parents early in her childhood. It can be said that she had already seen the hardships of the world. All things considering， she shouldn’t have been so helpless or shy.

On the other hand， she would have found it easier than other students from the purely Yi community to adapt， having grown up in a mixed Yi-Chinese area where both Yi and Chinese Mandarin were spoken without hindrance. There were not many people in Liangshan at that time who had such innate qualities， and if she developed her qualities well enough and had more courage， it was possible for her to become a reputable women cadre in the new society. It was something that happened regularly in Liangshan.

However， she was so unbelievably shy at heart. Her former classmate told me that when it was my mother’s turn to speak that day， she couldn’t open her mouth， and she lowered her head and tensed her body so tightly that if there had been a crack in the floor， she would have fallen through. But there wasn’t， and one way or another， my mother still had to get her words out.

After some persuasion from the group leader and active members of the group， she decided to speak， but with one condition. She then raised her head with her face totally blushed and asked all her group members to leave the room. Everyone looked at her， puzzled at her intention. Why should they go out？ Weren’t they supposed to be the audience？ What if they wanted to make comments on her speech？ Nevertheless， my mother insisted that they leave the room. She said， “You should all go out and shut the door before I can speak.” But how were they supposed to listen then？

After nearly forty years， her classmate told me that this was exactly the question he asked her. Once again， my mother lowered her head and whispered in a very low voice that she could speak up louder. What she really meant was that she’d be so nervous about being surrounded by so many people that she’d be unable to utter a single word.

At that time， everyone still had many things to work on as the new society had just begun， and people cheered everywhere to show their eagerness to help build New China， or everyone was just eager to go grab lunch. Either way， everyone wanted to leave the meeting as soon as possible， and they had already wasted over half an hour waiting to hear my mother speak. In the end， the group leader had no choice but to announce that this was it.

How did it go then？ He said that everyone did leave the room and stand behind the door to listen to Miss Li Guoying speak. “Did my mother speak in the end？” “Yes， she did，” her classmate replied， and he couldn’t help burst out laughing even after decades.

Later， when I told my father about it， he laughed and said he didn’t know such a hilarious anecdote. He said that my mother was indeed very shy， and specifically， that she would blush whenever she was in the presence of many people. He also speculated that this is probably the reason my mother didn’t like to talk.