Old Photos (Issue 50)

Author: Shandong Huabao Publishing House Editorial Department
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2006-12-01
Features: A single photograph, a piece of memory, "Old Photos" is leaving behind many precious historical fragments for humanity, reflecting the survival and development of humans over the past hundred years. Looking back at these details holds special significance! Each photograph contains a genuine and touching story. Here, they convey to us all the things that modern people do not know—such as personal experiences, the history of the War of Resistance Against Japan, and other famous figures and events. Photos can retain more of the truth of history, thanks to their irreplaceable and unalterable independent voice. Unfortunately, when narrating history, the independent voice of photos is often not given the respect it deserves. Even in books that extensively use photos, they are merely supplementary evidence for some historical conclusions or illustrations of certain historical concepts. "Old Photos" attempts to change this, placing photos at the center of observation and letting the photos speak for themselves. Sometimes, the message and meaning contained in a photo go far beyond what a few simple historical conclusions can encompass. Only by acknowledging and listening to the voice of photos can history become vivid and lively.
Ma: Another change that began after middle school was something I felt much more deeply—the start of rural labor, which happened twice a year, once during autumn harvest and once during summer harvest. Are you going too?
Ye: Yes, we started going in the second year of middle school. We were fourteen then. I heard that before us, the girls from the affiliated high school went to pick strawberries for labor. It sounded like an outing. But from us on, it was real agricultural labor. I remember the first time we went to the Hongxing People's Commune in the suburbs of Beijing for autumn harvest—it was about two weeks. It was my first time living in the countryside, and I got rashes because I wasn’t used to the environment. The purpose of rural labor was to toughen us up, reform our thoughts through labor, and it was an important lesson in cultivating successors to the revolution, so it was always during the harvest season, and we did hard work. Some classmates in my class were really not afraid of hardship or exhaustion. When harvesting wheat, their hands were full of blisters from using the sickle, and they were praised for it. When it comes to not fearing hardship in labor, I have a very deep impression. One autumn, we went to rural labor to harvest rice and were working with a senior high class. We called their class the "older sister class," which is how the affiliated high school refers to it. The best worker in their class was a plump, short woman. She worked incredibly fast, never stopping for a moment, her whole body drenched in sweat. When carrying rice, she couldn’t hold any more, so she used her clothes to carry it. She had several large bundles under each arm, and she tugged at her clothes with her hands, exposing her flesh, yet she didn’t seem to care. I forgot about my own labor and just watched her, feeling so sorry for her—why would anyone work like that? Later, I heard that her family background wasn’t good.
Ma: How did you know?
Ye: Of course, it was someone from the older sister class who told us. She didn’t joke around; she just worked, like a monk. I felt a bit sorry for her at the time. Back then, we were always told that people with poor family backgrounds should focus on their performance, but even though she worked like that, I didn’t hear her being praised. I never received praise for my labor. Even though I’m tall, I always lagged behind. Even so, every time I came home after rural labor, I was so exhausted that my legs didn’t straighten out for days.
Ma: Some people use the phrase "legs going forward" to describe the degree of exhaustion, and I guess you were like that. I remember once in middle school, after helping farmers harvest wheat, the school organized a walk back to Beijing to further toughen us up. We started walking in the evening and walked for a whole night until dawn. It started raining heavily at midnight, and we were drenched like drowned rats. I knew some classmates were on their period, and the blood on their sanitary pads was soaked white by the rain. I had blisters on my feet, and I gritted my teeth and kept going. But as soon as I got home, I slept for the whole day. I slept in my parents’ bed, which was big and had a Simmons mattress. Around evening, my little brother woke me up with the steaming white steamed buns that my mom had just made. After getting up, I exaggeratedly limped around to make my mom feel sorry for me. What I missed the most was my mom’s hand-pulled noodles—，I’ll never forget it.
Ye: You acted cute as soon as you got home. We didn’t have a Simmons mattress at home, but I remember how nice it felt to sleep on my wooden bed after rural labor. In the countryside, we slept on earthen beds, and everyone crowded in...