Working is an Improvement
Over this period of time things seemed to be getting better in China and there was a need for a labor force. Prison authorities saw a strong labor force in the prisoners, which unfortunately, is still the case today. I worried that this did not include me because I was among the weakest of the prisoners.
It seemed that all the prisoners were content to go anywhere and do anything rather than just sit. They also could get two steamed breads instead of just one, if they started to labor. Prisoners started to compare what we were promised to the external world, which we heard about from a new prisoner. For two steamed breads you could work as a coolie. They seemed willing to face cruel exploitation rather than just sit. A future of labor seemed better than the present boring idleness.
In April of 1971 prisoners began to work. And what was our purposeful mission? A vast amount of used military uniforms were collected from the whole country and delivered to every room of our prison. We took each apart piece by piece. This was our work. We could work only six hours a day but we had to complete fixed quotas. They delivered scissors for us to use and now it was convenient to finally cut our fingernails. At this time I was still very weak and I could not even sit up for a long time. I was so thin that my backbones could be seen, one by one. I weighed only 40 kg on a balance scale. During my illness I had lost over 28 kg. So, I could not keep up with others in taking a part the uniforms. Moreover I often cut my fingers. I had developed a skin disease and my resistance was very low. Where my skin was cut or worn raw, it became infected and inflamed and would not heal. I had much pain and I would toss and turn in bed with many sleepless nights. But, I had to keep trying.
Prisoners were so willing to do any kind of labor because it was better than staying in our jail room and stupidly sitting there at attention doing nothing. To do work of any kind would give us pleasure in many ways. We especially loved collecting a few of the better buttons from the uniforms, which we kept as valuable possessions and to use in various games that we could play. During our lives as prisoners we were allowed absolutely no material wealth. But now as prisoners we could have “property”– buttons and material scraps. Of course, these possessions were not outwardly permitted, but just having the opportunity to “own” something was too great to pass up. Suddenly these poor items took on great value and losing whatever we had could be very threatening. The days in jail, I found, under the state of extreme lack of material conditions or prerequisites. People could become very stingy and possessive. Prison rules stipulated that on every holiday such as Spring Festival, New Year’s Day, May 1, October 1, the guards must ransack all prison rooms. All prisoners had to leave their rooms. Every spot in the room was searched from cracks in the bed to cracks in corners. They carried out a huge search. Prisoners did everything to hide their treasured buttons. If they succeeded in escaping this disaster, they were very happy and felt lucky and rich. Originally, we had to remain in the prison rooms all day and night, but now we could come and go frequently to another area where we “worked.” Life seemed better.
Since September of 1971 we found that no new men were coming to prison. We all felt puzzled until November when a new prisoner arrived. We asked what he had done. He said that he was sent here just for criticizing Lin and Chen. Who is Lin? We were told that he had been the defense minister who was trying to usurp Mao’s position. Who is Chen? He was Chen Boda who was a close supporter of Lin. These men held positions of power until Mao and Zhou Enlai, in a constant state of paranoia, launched a campaign against them. We didn’t know particulars at the time, but history tells of the constant jockeying in the Chinese Communist Party. Oh, we can’t believe that Lin is our Vice-Commander, Mao’s close comrade-in-arms, and successor of our party. It is imbued with a most mocking thing that Lin’s son had a plot to kill Mao and when Mao found out, Lin’s plane “accidentally” crashed in Mongolia.