A Tomb Keeper in the Village

By Han Haoyue

I was really reluctant to visit Dabuzi, a village in Shandong Province that I had left in my childhood. But my third uncle always told me that I should “go back to respectfully visit” my father’s grave.

It’s 35 kilometers from the nearest county town to Dabuzi. I feel I have to mention the terrible condition of infrastructure in the past. Especially on rainy or snowy days, the bumpy and muddy road just made it an incredibly long journey.

Anyway, I did go back there at least once a year, mostly before the Chinese New Year.

Visiting the grave was like a solemn ceremony for my uncle.On each day we were going to do this, he would have his wife make dumplings and stir-fried dishes.He made some paper-cuttings (a kind of paper that hangs on the tomb) himself with my help. All these tasks would take three to four hours, and this always made me burn with anxiety, knowing that I would have to go back to town in the dark.

少年离开大埠子的我万般不情愿回到这里，三叔每次都语重心长地劝我：“你要回来，给你父亲上坟。”

大埠子距县城35公里。以前那里交通极不方便，路坑坑洼洼，雨雪天泥泞不堪，每次去都觉得无比漫长。

不管怎样，我每年至少小年时要回去一趟。

上坟对三叔来说，是很郑重的仪式，他会安排三婶包水饺、炒菜，带我们剪火纸。这个流程要三四个小时，常常让我心急如焚——上完坟天就快黑了，还要赶路回县城。

有一次，三叔在我父亲坟前说：“你们都走远了，不想回来了，以后你们的孩子，也慢慢忘记这里了。没关系，只要你还能来就好。以后的子孙们，不想来就不来了，反正我还在这里，还能守几十年。只要我一天还能动，就会来给你父亲、爷爷上坟。”

My uncle once said to me before my father’s grave, “You boys all have left home to somewhere far away,and don’t want to come back. Sooner or later your children will forget this place. Well, it doesn’t matter, since you can come back sometimes. As for the next generations, they won’t remember, and so be it. Anyway, I’m still here, and will be here for several decades. As long as I can move my legs,I will visit the graves of your father and your grandfather.

Tears were on my uncle’s face, and on mine as well. Since then, I have been willing to come back, and tried my best to console him.

My uncle was already in his fifties.How long could he accompany the dozen tombs? He said it was alright, as his son would take his place when he passed away.

My younger cousin (my uncle’s son, the third oldest family boy of my generation) is a freight-driver who transports goods all around China. But no matter how far he goes away, during his vacation he comes all the way back to the village, and to his father.

Several times I suggested that my uncle and my cousin (who was already married) ought to move from the village to the county town, where they could easily make more money,live a better life, and provide better education for the children. But my uncle just would not leave.

My uncle has lived many years in his house, in the north of Dabuzi, with a yard. Whenever I drove back to the village, I knew where to make a turn and park my car in his yard. One step into his house and a feeling of warmth and belonging would flood my heart.

The ginkgo tree I had planted in my early days has grown very tall. The water well is still in the center of the yard; the pressurizing device on the well is rusted, but it still works. When my daughter was two years old, she visited my uncle’s yard and had so much fun with the device. Now she is already seven, and still plays the same game when we go back.

Since my forties, I have often asked myself in my mind, that if there was a possibility of returning to Dabuzi in one or two decades, when I could rent a house in the village, or just live in my uncle’s house. In our spare time we would have a drink and talk about the past.

That was something I had never thought of, or was reluctant to think of, when I was younger. But finally I understood why my uncle was willing to be a lonely grave keeper in a remote village.

What he has been keeping is not only his deceased families, but also a precious feeling in his heart, and a warm place that he calls home.◆

(FromCaixin Weekly, Issue 46,2017. Translation: Wang Xiaoke)

三叔说这段话时哭了，我也哭了。从此老老实实，到点就回大埠子给亲人上坟，也安慰一下三叔。

三叔五十多岁了，还能在那十来座坟墓前守多长时间？他说没关系，他不在了，还有他的儿子。

三弟是名长途货运司机，经常全国各地跑，但无论跑多远，都会把他的大车开回大埠子，陪着他的父亲。

我多次建议三叔和已成家的三弟，离开大埠子，到县城去生活。毕竟城里生活条件好，挣钱也容易，孩子得到的教育也比乡下强，但三叔执意不愿离开。

三叔在大埠子村的北边，有一座住了很多年的院子。每次进了村庄，拐弯把车停到他院子门口，就要踏进他家门的时候，心里总是感到无比的亲切、踏实。

我小时候栽下的银杏树，已经长很高了。院子中央的压水井，生了锈，但还是能轻易压出水来。女儿两岁的时候到三叔家，就喜欢玩那个压水井，如今七岁了，每年回去，仍然会压水玩。

四十岁之后，我脑海里时常会冒出一种想法：有没有一种可能，在十年或者二十年之后，我也回到大埠子村，在村里租一间房子，或者干脆住到三叔家里。空闲的时候，我们爷俩喝一杯，谈谈往事。

这是我年轻时从来没想过，也不愿意想的事情。这个时候，才真正明白，三叔为什么甘愿在那个偏僻的村庄，当一个孤独的守墓者。

他守住的，其实不是一位位去世的亲人，而是一份他内心珍贵的情感，还有他觉得温暖的环境。◆