In the Pupal Stage

- - - - by Mookoo Liang in April, 2000




Burning off the diaries

It was a tiring afternoon in the fall. There was little wind near the earth's surface; the sun, partly covered with the floating clouds in the sky, seemed to be setting earlier than usual. Moodee, a tall and thin man in his early twenties, was staggering toward the small canal that passed by the front yard of his parents' cottage.

He was extremely upset at the moment, holding a number of notebooks in his hands. The autumn wind, though gentle and cool enough, failed to make him comfortable. He dragged his feet as if the written stuff in his hands had been too heavy; but it was clear to him that there was something much heavier in his heart, his mind, and his body.

For several months he had not added anything new to his personal notes. If he had, there would have been a lot more to clear up now. He thought of those "good old days"---especially the five-year period when he was far away from home, staying and studying in Green Garden. But recalling the most beautiful things in his life did not prevent him from returning to reality. He had been in great pain, physically and mentally. He had to do something to improve his miserable situation.

Indeed, it was time for him to be decisive. He made up his mind to go back to the hospital the next day; if possible, he would ask the doctor for a once-and-for-all medical operation, however dangerous it would be. Of course it was necessary to convince his parents that such an operation was a must. They had been shocked to learn that the famous singer Su Pei-Ching could no longer stand or walk after having an unsuccessful operation of this kind.

Now, to promise himself a brand-new start, what should Moodee do in advance? He thought of burning off all his old memories, good or bad. When he came to the irrigation canal, he carefully sat down on the bank, and then he started to tear his personal notebooks apart. At first, he just tore them page by page, as if he were reluctant to destroy all of them; then he speeded up, for the pains in his waist and his buttocks became severe.

These notebooks were Moodee's diaries. Before going to Green Garden, Moodee had been asked by one of his junior-high-school teachers to keep a diary; that's why he had formed the habit, and consequently he had so many notebooks in which his private affairs were recorded. He would be embarrassed if such secrets of his should be let out---Suppose he could not return from the hospital to deal with these notebooks, who would see them and what would they do about them?

Moodee struck a match and set the heap of torn pages on fire, as if a solemn ceremony were in progress! He continued to tear the other notebooks. He added the torn pieces to the heap that was burning. What a strange scene! It seemed that Moodee was formally saying "Good Bye" to all his yesterdays. Could he free himself in this way?

Meanwhile, the very same scene was a bit familiar to him. It seemed that he was worshiping En-Chu-Kung, the deity that his parents had long believed in, by burning the particular kind of "paper money." Could what he was now doing bring him better luck in the future?

Anyway, all that had taken Moodee a long time to write was going to burn up in just a few minutes. Some of the paper ashes, lifted up in the hot air around the flame, looked like tiny black butterflies, flying here and there attractively---until falling down to the ground again. With a bamboo stick, Moodee pushed all the burned stuff into the irrigation canal, hoping that the water down there would carry everything away.

The previous experience

You may recall your childhood; you may recount a past event or reconstruct a fading dream; you may even actually go upstream to the source of a river; and yet, it is impossible for you to become younger---in terms of age. Life is a no-returning matter, just as the water in the irrigation canal (Moodee has done something special beside it!) was always flowing in the fixed direction.

Sure enough the canal was not a straight one. There must have been many curves in it; otherwise, it would have been too boring---and, what's more, it would have lost its function of irrigating the rice fields.

There were rice fields in all shapes and sizes, higher or lower, in the village where Moodee spent his childhood. Moodee did not leave his hometown until graduation from junior high. Basically, he loved his place of birth, not only because it was a beautiful mountainous area, but also because he loved his parents and all his brothers and sisters.

He was the eldest child in the family. He was sure that his parents, a peasant and his wife, loved their eight children so much---with all their heart, their mind, and their might. They had been working very, very hard to support this family. So, Moodee was willing to do everything for them, as long as he could. On weekends or during the winter or summer vacation, he followed them either up to the hill or down to the rice field, to help with some laborious work.

Different seasons brought different jobs. Accordingly, he would scarify the soil in the dry fields so as to grow sweet potatoes; he would cut down the weeds in the plum orchard on the hillside; he would pick pears and carry them to the "fruit market"---with two large bamboo baskets on a shoulder pole.

It was no easy job to shoulder the crops. Every time Moodee and his father carried something on the shoulders to a market or somewhere, he would fall behind his father, because the heavy loads always made him take some additional rests on the way.

The easiest thing for him to do was lead the cow to an open field, where it would graze by itself. Moodee was then allowed to do whatever he liked: to lie on the grass and watch the floating clouds, to collect wild flowers or beautiful butterflies, or to climb up a tree and imagine that he was a knight fighting on horseback. How enjoyable! But, as soon as his brother was old enough to graze the cow, Moodee had no more chance to do that "soft job."

In those days farm machinery was not widely used. Even if there had been some good machines available, Moodee's family could not afford them. How could the eldest son be too lazy to work on the farm? One morning, as expected, Moodee got up earlier than usual. He was ready to experience something new by following his father to the rice fields.

Dawn was just breaking when Moodee and his father arrived at the first field. The water in the field had been let out; on the soft soil were young plants of rice standing in parallel rows. These less-than-a-foot-tall plants, slightly shaking in the morning breeze, made the whole piece of land look like a huge trembling chessboard with green lines, which formed thousands of squares. Moodee felt a little chilly. He knew he would be kneeling right in the "mud" for the work.

Moodee's father demonstrated how to "mop" (or "wipe") the weeds with bare hands. You kneel low in the wet field, bend your upper body forward, and move both your hands among the plants skillfully---rubbing the surface of the soft soil. You must tell weeds from rice at first sight, so you can properly "push" or "pull" or "pick" the unwanted and then "press" them down into the mud. Moodee was a quick learner, though he was then only twelve years old.

The father and son were like two chessmen moving steadily from one side of the field to the other; then they made a U-turn to remove weeds from other rows of rice. Normally, five rows of plants were dealt with at a time. Owing to his shorter arms, Moodee was unable to reach so far as to cover five rows. He just took care of three rows: one passing between his legs, the other two separately on his right and on his left.

There came a villager with whom Moodee's father was acquainted. The man appeared to be surprised at what he saw, telling Moodee's father that he had got a really good boy. Moodee's father replied with a smile, "Oh! I am mo-ngiu-sih-ma, ain't I?" The phrase mo-ngiu-sih-ma literally means, "Having no ox, I therefore use a horse." It was used as a modest expression in the Hakka dialect. Moodee realized all that.

Basically, Moodee was a "healthy boy" who had a good self-image. He had wanted to be an obedient son, a hard-working student, and a helpful friend. As a matter of fact, high praise from his teachers, his relatives, and his neighbors had made him quite sure of himself.

Now that he was working in the rice field with his father, the only obstacle for him to overcome was his physical weakness. He was getting tired. He had, again, fallen behind his father. Could he catch up with his father later? It was improbable! But, at least, he could manage to "make progress."

Trying hard to escape

Although he loved (and respected!) his father so much, Moodee did not want to be a peasant. He had been studying hard and learning well in school. He found it attractive to explore somewhere other than his home village. Above all, all his teachers and most of his senior relatives told him that he should go to senior high for further study, and then go to college, and then . . .

His future was thought to be bright, promising, as boundless as the sea and sky, so to speak. How could he confine himself to this mountainous area for all his days to come? Was he able to fly out of this "small cozy nest" so as to have the whole world in view? Looking back, he didn't really know what to think---he had very mixed feelings on his personal plight.

Moodee's parents as well as their children had been living in straitened circumstances. That's why Moodee spent his "holidays" working on the hillside or in the fields. It seemed clear that his desire for further study had made his parents uneasy, because tuition and accommodations were usually so expensive. Only in a military school, a policemen's school, or in a teachers' school could you study free. And, you know, very limited students were admitted to the teachers' school each year.

Now Moodee was going to graduate from junior high in less than three months. He was very worried about the Entrance Examination. He was aware that, although he had been one of the top students in his school, he might not be as good as competitors from other junior high schools. He had to "labor" on the hill or in the fields in his "spare time," yet many others were just spending every minute and second preparing for the tests.

The more Moodee thought about his future, the more anxious he was. "If I fail in the entrance exam, what will become of me?" He thought he would possibly become a pitiful peasant, or something like that, just like all his cousins that had grown up in this mountainous village. What a shame for a young student to lose his ambition! Moodee was so eager for success that he would concentrate on studies right off.

From then on, he studied even harder; he buried himself in books day in and day out. This moved his parents so much that they did not ask him to work outdoors any more. Once in a while, Moodee would think of his father's metaphorical phrase "mo-ngiu-sih-ma." He felt like working as patiently as ngiu (oxen) and ma (horses); however, he preferred ma to ngiu because the former run much faster.

One day, Moodee was told by his mother, "Boy, you've been studying hard for weeks. Why don't you take a break and follow us to the Temple? Your dad and I will ask En-Chu-Kung to help you pass the exams." Moodee was grateful to know that his parents would pray for him. Whether En-Chu-Kung was really helpful or not, he went to the temple with his parents.

After they worshiped all the deities in the temple, Moodee's mother returned to the main hall in the middle and prayed to En-Chu-Kung for revelation. On the altar was a tube-shaped container with a hundred long bamboo sticks in it, each stick indicating a number. She lifted up the container with her hands, said something softly, and then drew lots. She asked three questions, so she got three numbers in all.

According to the numbers, three poems were found on three separate slips hanging among others on the wall. They were En-Chu-Kung's words about what Moodee's mother had asked: "Can my son pass the exam for a teachers' school?" "Will he go to a vocational school?" "How about the general senior high?" Oh, no. All three poems were terribly negative!

Moodee's mother, an illiterate person, was not satisfied with her son's explanation of the poems. She thought she might have prayed in a wrong way. She wanted her husband to re-ask the questions. To their surprise, one of the two sticks drawn by Moodee's father was marked with the very same number as one of those that Moodee's mother had previously picked.

How could it be so? There were one hundred numbers all together. The probability of the same number being picked twice would be very little. All of a sudden, Moodee became very, very frustrated. He almost burst into tears when his parents tried to comfort him. His mother told him that En-Chu-Kung had meant to stimulate him to greater efforts. But he was quite puzzled. "Is it true? Is it true that I have no chance at all?" He kept asking himself, in silence.

That night, he put all five poems into his diary by gluing the slips. They functioned as a bookmarker, warning the writer and reader of the notebook that he had no time to waste. Moodee was really a hard-working student. And it sounded true that where there's a will there's a way. Two months later, the results of the Entrance Examination came out. Moodee was one of the happiest young people who were allowed in Green Garden.

A sharp turn in life

Those five years when Moodee was in Green Garden was the golden age of his life. He was in his element, feeling like fish in water. He made a lot of friends, who were interesting and helpful; he also got some very good teachers, such as Mr. Tung and Mr. Liu, who were men of great character and great learning.

With such "idols" leading or guiding, how could a young man be too "idle" to look and move forward? Moodee made rapid progress, indeed. He was interested in most of the courses that dealt with education, knowing that he himself would become a schoolteacher someday.

Besides the required courses, he enjoyed himself in a variety of activities. He had more "spare time" (also called "leisure time" or "free time") than ever before, so he could do many things that were really interesting and meaningful.

He found it fascinating to explore the world of literature---those well-known masterpieces, ancient or modern, Chinese or Western! He loved reading and also writing. Every so often he would stay in the school library all day long. He loved arts and music as well. Though he could not afford to learn from "private tutors," he learned how to appreciate different artistic forms and styles.

From an objective point of view, Green Garden was much smaller than the hillside where Moodee used to work; and the plants in Green Garden were not so colorful as those in Moodee's home village. But Moodee liked Green Garden even better, because in this place he could get himself much more cultivated.

Time flies. When graduating from Green Garden, Moodee was already twenty-one years old. As a qualified teacher then, he was sent (by the Government) to an elementary school near the seashore, which was also far away from his home village. His future should have been bright and promising, as boundless as the sky and sea; but in reality he became very sick.

At first, he did not care at all; then he found himself in a more and more difficult situation. There was pain in his buttocks, then in his legs and buttocks; finally, his waist also caused trouble. He was so weak that he could not sit or stand or walk for long. Frequently he had to take a rest by lying down in bed. He went to see a doctor, and then another doctor; it seemed that no one was able to find out the real cause.

Time of suffering was hard and long. Moodee had spent almost one year trying to find the solution; he had been introduced to many doctors, even to those unlicensed; and yet, after each trial period, the illness turned out to be worse. Moodee as well as his parents were very discouraged, without knowing what to do.

One evening, Moodee's parents were preparing for rice-planting. They were fixing the bamboo baskets that were to be used the next day to carry yong (very young plants of rice) to the wet fields. Moodee came to them, thinking that he might be able to help. No sooner had he squatted down than his stomach started to ache. The great pain made it necessary for him to be sent to hospital at once. He underwent an "emergency operation" on the stomach that night.

What a "snow plus frost" situation! Moodee did not come back to "normal" quickly. During the first few months, he had to strictly control what he ate and drank; if he drank more than half a cup of water at a time, he would be streaming with sweat. And, when his health gradually improved, he realized that his original problem had not been solved yet. He became nervous; he felt unlucky and unhappy.

Day after day Moodee's life was like a time-consuming struggle, just like a small boat rising and falling on the rough sea. "What is my destination? Am I going to reach home safely?" Moodee felt lonely---and helpless! Sure enough his family and friends were willing to help, but they were unable to do so.

After the operation on his stomach, Moodee went into hospital more often. For several times, he had to stay in that unpleasant place for over one month. He had asked for long-term sick leave from his job. He was forced to rest in bed---either in a hospital or in his parents' cottage. How miserable he was! He wished that he could have worked very well in the elementary school, or even in his father's rice fields!

Wishes for a new day

Moodee was now lying in bed in the hospital, far away from his hometown. He was alone and lonely. He thought of those "good old days" again, and began daydreaming that he would transform into a bird, or a butterfly, or part of the clouds in the sky . . .

If he had been a cloud, he would have been floating above his home village; if he had been a bird, he would have flown to many of his former classmates and teachers. "But, could I become a beautiful butterfly?" he suddenly had such a question.

The ward in which Moodee had been staying was originally painted yellowish white. Now it looked rather old, somewhat like a prison. Confined to this cocoon-like space, Moodee imagined that he was a pupa.

Fortunately, he was a thinking pupa; he would not stop thinking or feeling until he fell asleep. (After falling asleep, would he have a nice dream?) Anyway, he was not so depressed as in the previous weeks.

Some ten days before, he was totally disconsolate---his heart and mind broke; his strength and courage collapsed; his hopes and dreams crumbled. It was a Friday afternoon in the fall. Moodee suddenly felt so sorry for himself that he wrote a strange letter to Mr. Tung, one of his favorite teachers in Green Garden. Then, at noon on Sunday, Moodee saw Mr. Tung standing beside his bed.

Moodee burst into tears then and there. He was surprised to see that his respected teacher also did so. The teacher and student chatted in the ward all afternoon. They talked and talked and talked. When the elder left the hospital late in the evening, the younger seemed to have grown very mature.

It was Mr. Tung's stories that made Moodee regain the faith and the courage. One of the stories was about Mr. Tung's eldest son, who had gotten serious polio when he was very small. Mr. Tung described in detail how difficult the situation had been. At the end of the story, he asked Moodee, "Can you imagine how anxious a father who has such a child would be?"

Moodee nodded. He then thought of Mr. Liu, another of his favorite teachers in Green Garden. Mr. Liu, who got a PhD in Spanish literature, had been much respected by his students. He had a retarded son. Oh! How come good men could not have avoided "problem sons"?

Again, how come an obedient son, a hard-working student, and a helpful friend---such three-in-one would become a pupa? Was the pupa going to die or to transform? The doctor had finally promised to perform a medical operation on Moodee's spine. Although Moodee did not really believe in En-Chu-Kung, he placed beneath his pillow the "blessing bag" that his father had asked for in the Temple.