The Republic of Wine (38 page)

Unstintingly, my mother-in-law continued my education on swallows' nests. After dealing with their nutritional value she moved on to preparation, which didn't interest me much. What did interest me was the story she told of gathering swallows' nests, the story of her family, her story.

My mother-in-law was born into a family with a long history of gathering swallows' nests. When she was still in her mother's womb, she heard the painful chirpings of the swallows and absorbed the nutrients of their nests. Her mother was a gluttonous woman whose appetite grew even more rapacious when she was pregnant. She often ate swallows' nests behind her husband's back and was never discovered, because she was so skilled at stealing food. My mother-in-law said her mother was born with a set of teeth that were harder than steel, teeth that could chew through tough dry swallows' nests. She never stole a whole nest - her husband always kept count - but would skillfully gnaw off an inch or so from the bottom of each nest where it had been scarred by knives during removal, leaving undetectable marks. My mother-in-law said her mother ate nothing but the best ‘official nests,' for those that hadn't gone through the refinement process were the most nutritious. My mother-in-law said that all prized food items lose a significant amount of their nutritional content in the cooking process. Progress, she said, always comes at a cost. Humans invented cooking to please their taste buds, and sacrificed their fierce, brave nature. The reason Eskimos who live near the North Pole have such strong bodies and the ability to endure extreme cold is unquestionably tied to the fact that they eat raw seal meat. If one day they master the complicated and delicate culinary techniques of the Chinese, they will no longer be able to live there. My mother-in-law's mother ate a great amount of raw swallows' nests, so my mother-in-law was a healthy newborn with dark black hair and pink skin, a voice far louder than any baby boy, and four teeth in her mouth. Her father, being a superstitious man who believed that a newborn baby with teeth will bring bad luck to the family, dumped my mother-in-law outside in the weeds. It was the middle of winter. Although it's never terribly cold in Guangdong, the December nights can still be bone chilling. My mother-in-law slept through the night there in the weedy cold, and survived, which changed her father's mind; he carried her back into the house.

According to my mother-in-law, her mother was very pretty; according to my mother-in-law, her father was born with bushy downward-slanting eyebrows, deep-set eyes, a flat nose, thin lips, and a goatee on his pointy chin. My mother-in-law's father was older than his years and skin and bones due to long hours of climbing steep hills and squeezing between cliffs, while her mother sneaked nutritious swallows' nests daily, which gave her a rosy complexion and fair skin from which water could be squeezed, like lilies in June. When my mother-in-law was a year old, her mother ran off to Hong Kong with a swallows'-nests merchant, so my mother-in-law was raised by her father. She said that after her mother ran off, her father cooked a swallow's nest for her every day; it's safe to say that she grew up on swallows' nests. My mother-in-law said she didn't have a single bite of swallow's nest when she was pregnant with my wife, because that was in the early sixties, when life was so difficult. Which is why my wife looks like a black monkey. My wife would improve if she ate swallows' nests, but she refuses. Still I knew it would have been difficult even if she'd wanted some, because my mother-in-law had only been director of the Gourmet Section of the Culinary Academy for a short while, and it would have been virtually impossible to acquire any swallow's nest prior to assuming the directorship. The inferior swallow's nest she made for me had not come through normal channels, which showed that she was quite fond of me, fonder than my wife was. I married my wife in part because her father was a teacher who had been good to me, and one of the major factors keeping me from divorcing my wife has been my affection for my mother-in-law.

By drinking swallow's nest soup and eating baby swallows, my mother-in-law grew into a strong, healthy child. At the age of four, her height and intelligence reached the level of a normal ten-year-old, and she was convinced that her swallows diet was the reason. My mother-in-law said that, in some respects, she was nurtured and raised by male swallows and their precious saliva, since her own mother was afraid to breast-feed her, given the presence of the four teeth with which she was born. “What kind of mammal would do that?' she said grudgingly. She contended that humans were the cruelest, most ruthless mammals of all, for only a human would refuse to breast-feed her own baby.

My mother-in-law's family lived in a remote corner of the southeastern coast. On clear days, she sat on the beach, within sight of the shadowy, steel-green islands whose giant, rocky caves were home to the swallows. Most of the villagers were fishermen; only my mother-in-law's father and six uncles gathered swallows' nests for a living, as had their ancestors. It was a dangerous, profitable occupation. Most families couldn't have managed it even if they'd wanted to. That is why I stated earlier that my mother-in-law grew up in a swallows'-nests gathering family.

My mother-in-law said her father and uncles were all strong, exceptionally fit men without an ounce of fat, nothing but lean, protein-rich, ruddy-colored muscles that looked as if they were twisted hemp. Anyone with muscles like that must be more than an ape. Her father actually kept two apes, which he called their teachers. During the off seasons, her father and uncles lived on the income from nests collected the previous year, while making preparations for the next round of nest-gathering. Nearly every day, they took the apes up the mountain and had them scale cliffs and climb trees while they themselves imitated the actions. My mother-in-law said that some nest-gatherers on the Malay Peninsula had tried to train apes to gather nests, but weren't very successful. The apes' unreliability affected production. She said that even in his sixties, her father was agile as a swallow and could climb slippery bamboo stalks like a monkey. In any case, due to their genes and to their training, everyone in my mother-in-law's family was adept at scaling cliffs and climbing trees. My mother-in-law said that the most outstanding climber was her youngest uncle, who, with skills like a gecko, could climb a cliff several meters high, bare-handed, without the help of any equipment, in pursuit of swallows' nests. She said she'd nearly forgotten what the other uncles looked like, but clearly remembered this uncle. His body was covered with aging skin like fish scales; he had a lean, dry face, in which two deep-set blue eyes reflected sparkles of melancholy.

My mother-in-law said she was seven years old the first summer she accompanied her father and uncles to the islands to gather swallows' nests. They owned a double-masted boat made of pine and covered with thick layers of paulownia varnish that gave off the fragrance of a forest. A southeastern wind blew that day, sending long, billowing waves chasing after each other. The white sand on the beaches shone bright in the sunlight. My mother-in-law said she was often startled awake by a blinding white light in her dreams. In her bed in Liquorland she could hear the waves from the south sea and smell the seawater. Her father, smoking a pipe, was directing his brothers to load supplies, fresh water, and green bamboo poles on board the boat. Finally, one of her uncles brought over a burly male water buffalo with a strip of red satin tied to its horns. The animal's eyes were bloodshot, white froth gathered at its mouth, as if wild with anger. The kids from the fishing village came out to see the nest-gathering boat set sail. Among them were some of my mother-in-law's playmates, Sea Swallow, Tide Birth, Seal … An old woman stood on a rock at the entrance of the village shouting, Seal, Little Seal, come home. Reluctantly, the little boy left, but before he walked off, he said to my mother-in-law, Yanni, can you catch a swallow for me? If you get a live swallow, I'll trade you one of my marbles. He showed her the marble clasped in his palm. I was surprised to learn that my mother-in-law had such a wonderful pet name, Yanni - Swallow Girl. Good heavens! It was the same name as Mrs Karl Marx. Mother-in-law said sadly, That boy, Little Seal, is now a military commander. Obviously, she was airing her dissatisfaction with my father-in-law. What's so great about a military commander? my wife said. My father's a college professor and a distilling specialist, every bit as impressive as some little military commander! My mother-in-law glanced over at me. She always sides with her father, she complained. It's the Electra complex, I said. My wife stared daggers at me. My mother-in-law said, 'On the day the boat set sail, the most exciting event was getting the buffalo on board.'

'Buffaloes are very intelligent,' she said. 'Particularly when they're not neutered. Knowing what was in store for it, the animal's eyes turned red as soon as it neared the pier. Panting heavily, it tugged mightily on the harness, nearly jerking my uncle off his feet.' My mother-in-law said, A narrow gangplank connected the boat at a slant to the stone steps of the pier. Beneath it only muddy seawater. The buffalo's front hooves stopped at the edge of the gangplank and it refused to move another inch. My uncle tugged with all his might, like a baby at the nipple, until the steel nose ring stretched the buffalo's nose to bursting point; the pain must have been unbearable. But the buffalo held its ground and refused to go on board. In a life-and-death struggle, what does it matter to lose a nose? My mother-in-law said that her other uncles rushed up to help get the buffalo aboard, but no matter how hard they pushed they couldn't budge it. Not only that, the buffalo kicked out angrily and crippled the leg of one of her uncles.

My mother-in-law said her youngest uncle was not only stronger than his brothers, but more intelligent as well He took the rope from his brother and walked the buffalo along the beach while talking to the animal, leaving a trail of their footprints in the sand. Finally, he removed his shirt, covered the buffalo's head, and led it back to the gangplank all by himself. The wooden plank sagged heavily from the weight of the animal, turning it into a bow. The animal knew it was walking a dangerous path, for it placed its hooves as carefully as a circus goat on a tightwire. Once the buffalo was aboard, the people boarded, and the gangplank was cast off. With a
whoosh
the sails were set. Her youngest uncle removed his shirt from the buffalo's head. The animal was quaking, its hooves skittering on the deck. It let out a mournful cry. Gradually, the land disappeared, and the island loomed larger and larger, shrouded in mist and fog, a fairy mountain, a mythical palace.

My mother-in-law said that after her father and uncles anchored their boat in a cove, her youngest uncle took the buffalo ashore. The expression on everyone's face was grave, almost religious. As soon as they set foot on the desolate, thorn-covered ground, the irritable buffalo turned as docile as a lamb. The blood-red color vanished from its eyes, replaced by a deep ocean blue, the same color as her youngest uncle's eyes.

My mother-in-law said it was dusk when they landed on the deserted island. Red lights flickered on the sea, flocks of circling birds filled the air with deafening shrieks. The party of gatherers slept under the night sky, hardly speaking to one another. Early the next morning, after breakfast, her father said, 'Let's do it.' The mysterious, risky job of gathering swallows' nests had begun.

A great many dark caves dotted the island. My mother-in-law said that her father set up an altar outside a large cave, burned a bundle of spirit money, kowtowed several times, then commanded, Kill the sacrificial animal! His six brothers rushed up and shoved the buffalo onto its side. Strangely enough, the powerful buffalo put up no resistance; rather than being pushed off its feet by the six men, it was as if it lay down on its own. Its legs simply crumpled, as if made of dough, and it fell to the ground, where it lay quietly, its powerful neck resting on the rocky surface, connected awkwardly to its gigantic head with its steel-green horns, as if they were welded together. The way it lay there showed that it was willing to accept its fate of serving as a sacrifice to the god of the cave. My mother-in-law said she vaguely sensed that the swallows' nests were the private property of the god of the cave, and that her father and uncles were offering this powerful buffalo as trade with the god, which must have been a ferocious monster, if it could eat a whole buffalo. My mother-in-law said that just thinking about it terrified her. After pushing the buffalo to the ground, her uncles stood aside, and she saw her father remove a glistening ax from his waistband. Holding it in both hands, he walked up to the animal. Her heart, seemingly in the grip of a massive hand, was barely able to start again after each beat. Her father mumbled something, a look of fear danced in his black eyes. Suddenly she felt immensely sorry for her father and for the buffalo. She sensed that this man, who was as skinny as a monkey, was as pitiable as the buffalo that lay stiffly on the rocky ground: this was not something that either the butcher or the butchered wanted, but both were driven by an overpowering force to do what must be done. When my mother-in-law saw the immense, oddly shaped opening of the cave, heard the strange noises coming from inside, and felt the ominous air spewing from the mouth, she was inspired by the thought that what scared the daylights out of both her father and the buffalo was the god inside. She saw the buffalo's tightly closed eyes, the long lashes squeezed by the eyelids into a thin line. An emerald-green fly was picking at something in the corner of its moist eye. My mother-in-law was so troubled by the disgusting fly that the corners of her eyes began to itch, but the buffalo didn't so much as twitch. My mother-in-law's father walked up alongside the buffalo, looking around as if in a trance. What was he thinking? My mother-in-law said that, as a matter of fact, he saw nothing, that looking around was a sign that his mind was empty. Holding the ax in his left hand, he spat into his right palm, then switched the ax to his right hand and spat into his left palm. Finally, he held the ax in both hands and shifted his legs slightly, as if trying to stand more firmly. He took a deep breath and held it; as his face darkened and his eyes bulged, he raised the ax high over his head and brought it down hard. My mother-in-law heard a thump as the ax split the buffalo's head. Her father exhaled and stood there weakly, as if his body were falling apart. A long time passed before he bent down to pry the ax from the buffalo's head. The animal let out a dull cry; it made several attempts to stand up, but failed. It was unable to raise its head, for the ligaments in its neck were severed. Then different parts of its body began to twitch, one after another, seemingly beyond the control of its brain. My mother-in-law's father raised his ax again and chopped down savagely, enlarging the wound above the buffalo's neck. He made a ‘hey-hey' sound as he hacked away, each chop right on target, making the wound deeper and deeper, until black blood spewed from the buffalo's neck. The smell of hot, raw blood streaked into my mother-in-law's nostrils. Her father's hands were covered in blood; she could feel the slipperiness of the ax in the way her father repeatedly dried his hands with grass. Following the further enlargement of the wound, fresh blood splashed over her father's face. Bubbles gurgled out of the buffalo's severed windpipe. With her hands around her own neck, my mother-in-law turned away; when she turned back, her father had already chopped off the head. He threw down the ax, picked up the head by its steely horns with his bloody hands, and carried it over to the altar outside the cave. What puzzled my mother-in-law was the buffalo's eyes, which had been tightly closed before it died, but were now wide open. Still as blue as the ocean, they reflected the people around them. My mother-in-law said her father stepped back after arranging the buffalo's head on the altar. Mumbling something unintelligible, he knelt on the ground and kowtowed by the cave opening. Her uncles also knelt down on the rocky ground and kowtowed to the cave opening.