Frog

In his address, Secretary Qin asked the Communist Youth League, the Women’s Association and school authorities to get behind the campaign and publicise it aggressively in order to reach peak participation. As in previous movements, Teacher Xue, the school’s most talented literary figure, composed a clapper-talk lyric, which we quickly memorised. Then, organised into groups of four and armed with homemade paper or tin-plate megaphones, we went up onto rooftops and climbed trees to spread the word:

Commune comrades be not afraid,

Commune comrades be not delayed.

Vasectomies are the simplest things,

No gelding attempts will ever be made.

The tiniest cut, half an inch long,

Fifteen minutes, you can’t go wrong.

No blood and no sweat,

Back to work that day, just as strong.

Over that special spring, according to Gugu, a total of 648 vasectomies were performed at the commune, only 310 by her hand alone. All that was really needed, she said, was a clear explanation of the rationale behind the policy; then, with the senior personnel taking the lead, followed by men at every level, the masses would respond reasonably. The majority of procedures she personally performed were on village cadres and organisational heads who came willingly. Only two cases involved troublesome men who were openly hostile and required coercion. One was our village carter Wang Jiao, the other was Xiao Shangchun, the granary watchman.

Wang Jiao, whose family background was politically ideal, acted with reactionary arrogance. He was no sooner released from detention than he began to rant that anyone who tried to force him into undergoing a vasectomy would know what it meant to see a knife go in clean and come out red. My friend Wang Gan, who had fallen hard for Gugu’s assistant, Little Lion, was on Gugu’s side emotionally. He tried to get his father to get a vasectomy, for which he was rewarded with two resounding slaps. Wang Gan fled from his house, his father on his heels, whip in hand. When they reached the pond at the head of the village, a coarse argument bridged the water.

Wang Jiao: You fucking dog, how dare you try to get your father to have a vasectomy!

Wang Gan: I’m a fucking dog? Okay, I’m a fucking dog!

Wang Jiao stopped to think. Calling his son names was the same as calling himself those same names. He renewed the chase; father and son began circling the pond, like turning a millstone. The curious stopped to look and added fuel to the generational fire with provocative shouts and raucous laughter.

One day Wang Gan stole a deadly sabre from his house and turned it over to the village’s branch secretary, Yuan Lian, telling him it was a lethal weapon that his father had said he’d use on anybody who tried to make him have a vasectomy. Yuan Lian did not waste a minute, running off to the commune with the sabre to report to Party Secretary Qin Shan and my aunt. He’s not on our side, Qin roared as he pounded his desk. Sabotaging our family-planning campaign is a counter-revolutionary act! Letting Wang Jiao get away with this will make our job harder, Gugu said. You’re right, Qin agreed, knowing that village males in line to get vasectomies were watching to see what happened with Wang Jiao.

Arrest the hoodlum, Qin ordered.

Ning Yao (Waist) from commune security, pistol on his belt, led a group consisting of the Party secretary, the Women’s League chairwoman, the militia commander and four of his men; they burst unannounced into Wang’s yard.

Wang’s wife was on a stool in the shade of a tree, a nursing infant in her arms, making a braid out of grass. She threw her handiwork down at the sight of the intruders, sat down on the ground, and wailed.

Wang Gan was standing under the eaves, not making a sound.

Wang Dan was sitting on the front door threshold, gazing at her small face in a tiny hand mirror.

Come out here, Wang Jiao! Yuan Lian shouted. The first time was a request, this time it’s a demand. Commune Security Chief Ning is here. You might get away today, but there’s always tomorrow. Be a man and do this on your own.

The Women’s League chairwoman turned to Wang Jiao’s wife. Stop crying, Fang Lianhua, and tell your man to get out here.

Not a sound from inside the house. Yuan Lian glanced at Security Officer Ning, who waved the four militiamen into the house, ropes in hand.

From where he stood under the eaves, Wang Gan pointed his chin at the pigpen for Ning’s benefit.

Even though one of Ning’s legs was longer than the other, he was fast on his feet. He hightailed it to the pigpen, unholstered his pistol, and shouted at the top of his lungs, Come out of there, Wang Jiao!