The Garlic Ballads

Most of the prisoners gripped the steel ribs and gazed outside the enclosure; the spaces between the ribs were about the size of a small bowl, nowhere big enough to accommodate even the smallest head. A few men sat on the ground against the northern wall, sunning themselves, while others paced the outer edges of the cage, which was divided into two sections: the western half for male prisoners, the eastern half for women.

Gao Yang spotted Fourth Aunt Fang holding on to the bars in the women’s side. He barely recognized her, she had changed so much in the day since he’d last seen her. He chose not to hail her.

Under the watchful eyes of silent prisoners holding on to the bars, the guards carried a large bamboo basket over to the tomato patch. They were giggling and having a grand time, especially a short, freckle-faced girl of about twenty, who was laughing the loudest.

Gao Yang heard his young cellmate call out playfully, Officer, be a good girl and toss one of those tomatoes this way, all right?”

The woman just gaped at the cage.

“Come on, be a good girl, and toss me one,” he tried again.

“Call me ‘Great-Aunt,’ “ the freckle-faced guard said, “and maybe I will.”

“Great-Aunt!” the young prisoner shouted without hesitation.

Shocked at first, she then doubled over with laughter.

“Little Liu, you’d better give your great-nephew a tomato,” her companions teased her.

So she straightened up, pulled a half-ripe tomato out of the bamboo basket, took careful aim, and flung it with all her might. It rebounded off a bar and landed a couple of feet from the cage.

“Is that the best you can do, Little Liu?” one of her companions, who was skinny as fishbone, mocked her.

The freckle-faced guard picked up another tomato, aimed it at the young inmate, and let fly again. This one made it through the bars and landed on the cement floor, where it was pounced on by a swarm of prisoners. Gao Yang couldn’t see who wound up with the tomato, but he heard strange, piteous wails.

“Damn it!” the young inmate cursed. “That was a gift from my great-aunt! Damn it to hell! The tiger kills the prey just so the bear can eat.”

By now the tomato was in someone else’s stomach, so the prisoners went back to holding the bars and gazing outside.

“Great-Aunt, one more, please!” the young inmate pleaded.

He was joined by a chorus of shouts—”Great-Aunt” by some prisoners, “Big Sister” by others — and the unmistakable voice of his middle-aged cellmate: “Fuck your great-aunt!” By then the guards were pelting the cage with tomatoes, over which the prisoners fought like a pack of mad dogs, snarling and growling and forming tight little clusters.

Guards came rushing up from both ends of the corridor, rifles at the ready, followed by turnkeys, who ran into the cage. Rifle bolts clicked as the cloth-shod turnkeys kicked the array of legs and buttocks in front of them. The shriek of a police whisde split the air.

“Get your asses back inside, all of you!” the turnkeys shouted.

Like a tightly packed school of fish, the inmates slipped through the little metal door. It clanged shut and was bolted behind Gao Yang, the last man in. The exercise period was over.

The cage, the garden, the barbed wire — all of it gone. For the first time, Gao Yang realized how narrow the corridor was. He heard a man arguing with the female guards outside. The high-pitched voice of the freckle-faced officer was easy to distinguish from all the others.

4.

Reentering the cell felt like crawling into a cave, one so dark it dulled Gao Yang’s sight and hearing — but not, unfortunately, his sense of smell. The stench of mildew and rot nearly bowled him over.

In a low voice the middle-aged inmate said, “You there, new man, stand up.”

“Elder B-Brother,” he stammered, “what do you want from me?”

The man grinned conspiratorily. “How were those noodles?”

“They were good,” he replied shyly.

“Did you hear that? He said they were good.”

“Good, but hard to digest,” the young inmate said.

“You got special food,” the old prisoner spat out as he rushed Gao Yang and began scratching his head and face.

The middle-aged inmate pulled the old man away and forced Gao Yang to back up. When his back was against the wall, he gazed fearfully at the opening in the door. “Don’t shout, or I’ll strangle you,” the inmate threatened. “An ass-licking, tail-wagging dog is what you are!”

“Elder Brother … please don’t.”

“Tell us what kind of noodles they were.”

He shook his head.

“I know, they were hollow-core noodles. Now we’ll see how hollow your core is!” The inmate signaled the others. “Come on, men, three punches apiece, until we get him to puke!”

The young inmate clenched his fist, took aim at Gao Yang’s breastbone, and delivered three quick, hard punches.

Gao Yang wailed piteously, and while his mouth was open, the mass of noodles came tumbling out. When he was through vomiting, he lay sprawled on the cement floor.