Peels for Salt橘皮換食鹽

A Note from Russell Leong： As a writer myself， I am often intrigued with other people’s lives because they show other ways of living beyond my own. Luo Xuanmin has an interesting life， beyond his activities as a scholar and work as a teacher and translator. He is simply a natural-born storyteller. Whether it is in a Japanese restaurant in Beijing （where King-Kok Cheung and I first heard this story） or in a Persian café in Los Angeles （where he told another story）， Xuanmin tells stories the way they should be told： pithy， with empathy， and with remarkable detail. So I asked Xuanmin to share one of his stories with readers， and due to our urging， this is the first story he has written in English. 拉塞爾·利昂評注：我本人是一位作家，常常愛關注別人的生活，因為它們呈現出有別于我本人的生活方式。羅選民先生在他學術、教學和翻譯生活之外，還有著有趣的人生經歷。他簡直就是一位天生的故事講述者，在北京的日本餐館，張敬玨和我第一次聽到了這個故事，而在洛杉磯的波斯咖啡館，我們又聆聽到他講的另一個故事。在選民的講述中，任何一個故事都那么逼真、細致，它們是那么生動出神。于是，我請他與讀者分享一個他所講過的故事。在我們的催促聲中，他寫下了第一篇英文故事。

When I was young， my family was very poor. Life was far from a bed of roses to us. When mum went out for work in the early morning， she always left me the same instruction： “My dear son， when you go to school， lock the door; when you return home， shut the door. Take care of your brothers and sister， and finish your homework. Don’t let a thief lift the quilts away.” To us， quilts were the most useful and precious possessions， the shelter and safety for the cold winter1. It is very hard for today’s young people to understand this phenomenon; so I bet they will assume my following story about peels2 for salt to be fiction. However， it is a true story.

The story took place in a small Chinese provincial city in the late 1960s.

After my graduation from primary school came the “Cultural Revolution.” I was then only twelve years old. Since all the schools were shut down， kids had to stay at home. I admired those middle school students who could join the Red Guard Organizations. Wearing army uniforms with red armbands， they looked very smart. They sang and danced on the stages in the open to show their loyalty to Chairman Mao. They undertook long marches to Jinggang Mountains in Jiangxi， the cradle of Chinese revolution， and to Yan’an in Shannxi， the holy place for the Red Army during the War of Resistance Against Japanese Invasion， expressing their determination to carry out the revolution to the end. The years of passion！ How I dreamed I could someday be one of them！

A dream was after all a dream. I could never have been a Red Guard because I was born into a so-called landlord family and was treated as a “dog-kid3.” Mother later lost her job and father was the only breadwinner. Life was extremely hard for us. There were times when we were unable to buy salt or cooking oil right before the time for meals. Every penny was carefully planned and logistically spent.

In order to help father， I took my brothers to get orange peels on the street， though our earning could barely help the family.

During the “Cultural Revolution”， everything was at a mess. There were not many trashcans along the street in the small city. The most common fruit then was oranges， which were local products. It was common for people to eat fruits while walking on the pavements. The peels would be thrown on the ground. My main battlefield was Liberation Road， the largest and longest street in the city. The street was crowded with shops on both sides. Like a detective， I was on alert noticing passengers coming and going with oranges in their hands. You could be humiliated if you asked for the peels directly because the owner might reject you and treat you as a beggar， though you were always dressed neatly and cleanly. There were such people on earth who would rather throw away peels than put them in your bag.

In most cases， I picked the peels from the ground. When one was discovered， I would pick it up quickly without being noticed. After all， I was an adolescent then.

To pick up the peels by hands was not bad， you felt fulfilled in the performance. While bending repeatedly for peels， your backbone became even more flexible. A few decades later， when I met Japanese scholars on various occasions， I did excellent jobs of exchanging bows and gratitude.

The most tedious thing in collecting peels was “suspense.” I had such an experience. I found someone eating an orange， I followed him. The content was almost finished when the passenger suddenly stopped nibbling4. A further pursuit seemed unwise， but to give up would be even more stupid. It took another one hundred meters for the passenger to finish his dear orange. What a peel！ It was the most challenging and energy consuming peel I had ever collected.

To bend down for peels on the ground was not efficient work. I finally thought of a method to get peels in an elegant manner. I made a stick with an old bent-up metal rod the end of which had been sharpened into a point. Holding this stick， I seemed to be a Chaplin working in Broadway. I picked up discarded orange peels and later surreptitiously slid them into an old army bag， which was fastened on my left shoulder.

The contents were carefully dried over a stove at home and then put in a large bag before being peddled to the local herb shop. When the contents were being weighed by the shopkeeper behind his thick glasses， I was standing on my toes watching the steelyard5 hook， pretending to be able to read. “Fifty-five cents！” I heard the man shouted behind the counter. Though I was very disappointed at the pay， I had to accept it. It was better than nothing. At least， the pittance could be used to buy salt.

我小時候，家里很窮。那時的生活不那么稱心如意。母親大清早就出去工作了，臨走時，她總會囑托我：“孩子，出門上學時，要鎖好家門;放學回家后，要把門關好?？春玫艿苊妹?，完成家庭作業。千萬別讓小偷掀走被褥。”那時，被褥是我們最有用、最貴重的家當，寒冬就靠它避寒保暖，安穩度過了。今天的年輕人很難理解這種現象。因此，敢保證他們會認為我接下來要講的這個故事純屬虛構，但它確實是真的。

故事發生在20世紀60年代末中國的一個地方小鎮。

我小學剛畢業就趕上了“文革”。那時，我只有12歲。所有學校都被迫關門，孩子們只能待在家里。我羨慕那些參加紅衛兵的中學生。他們軍服上系著紅袖標，看起來很神氣，在露天舞臺上又唱又跳，用來表達對毛主席的無限忠誠。他們長途跋涉前往中國革命搖籃——江西省井岡山和抗日戰爭圣地——陜西省延安，以顯示將革命進行到底的決心。那真是激情燃燒的歲月！我多么想有一天能加入他們的行列！

夢終究是夢。我永遠都當不上紅衛兵，因為我出生在一個所謂的地主家庭，被當作“狗崽子”。后來，母親丟了工作。父親成了唯一養家糊口的人。家里的生活實在困難，常常缺鹽少油。真是每一分錢都得精心計劃、謹慎使用。

為了幫父親一把，我帶著弟弟們到街上撿橘皮，雖然我帶著弟弟們到街上撿橘皮賣錢，不過我們賺的這點兒錢基本幫不上家里太大忙。

“文革”期間，到處亂糟糟的。在這座小城里，街上的垃圾箱不多。那時，最常吃的是當地特產——橘子。經?？匆娙藗冊诼飞线呑哌叧运?。皮兒會被順手扔到地上。我的主要戰場是這座城最寬最長的街——解放路。街道兩旁擠滿了商店。我就像一名密探緊盯著手拿橘子的過路人。要是直接和他們要橘皮，就會受到一番侮辱，吃橘子的人會把你當成乞丐來拒絕你，不論你穿得多干凈、整潔。有很多人，他們寧愿把橘皮扔掉，也不愿意放到你包里。

大多數時候，我從地上撿橘皮。發現一片，我就會行動迅速地撿起來，免得被人看見。畢竟，那時我還是個青少年。

用手撿橘皮不是一件壞事，我從中受益匪淺。不停地彎腰撿橘皮會讓你的脊柱靈活。幾十年后，在許多場合碰到日本學者，我能輕松地彎下腰去與他們相互鞠躬致謝。

撿橘皮時最煩心的就是遇到有人“懸著”。我有過這樣的經歷?？吹揭晃恍腥苏诔蚤僮?，就尾隨其后。不料，快要吃完時，他突然不吃了。繼續跟著吧，覺得不明智，而放棄卻又好似更傻。于是，還得再跟上百米左右，等他把手中的寶貝橘子吃完。好一塊橘子皮！這是我撿橘皮中最難、最費勁兒的一次。

彎腰到地上撿橘皮很費事。后來，我想到了一種體面的撿法。把一根末端彎曲并磨尖的舊金屬桿做成棍子。手握這根棍兒，我就像是在百老匯街表演的卓別林，撿起被扔掉的橘子皮，偷偷摸摸地把它放進挎在左肩上的一個破舊的軍包里。

回家后，我們把撿來的橘皮小心翼翼地放在火爐上烤干，裝到一個大包里，攢多了就賣給當地草藥鋪。藥鋪老板戴著一副高度老花鏡秤橘皮的時候，我踮著腳尖兒瞅秤桿兒，假裝會看秤?！拔迕?！”柜臺后的那個人提高嗓門喊著。我對得到的錢數很失望，可我只能接受，總比連一分都得不到要強。至少這一點兒錢可以用來買鹽。