My Yard on Blackfish Street

零零星星

　　At the age of 7, my family moved to Blackfish Street in downtown Songjiang, Shanghai. The two-story house was a bit obtrusive amidst the ordinary bungalows surrounding it. There was a large yard in front of our house, with a low wall on one side and bamboo fences on the other two. The yard gave us three siblings a private space to play.

My oldest brother planted a tree in the yard in front of the house. I dont remember what kind of tree it was. Maybe Mulberry. In one corner of the yard, there was a fig tree. The fig flowers were beautiful when they blossomed, and its figs were big and sweet. One time, my father asked me to sing, but I was too embarrassed. Dad said that if I sung, I could pick some figs and eat them. I turned my back to face the fig tree and began to sing: "swallows that wear a flower dress come here every spring..." Quietly, a medical cotton factory was built the next door, and one side of our yard was torn down. The fig tree was cut down too. No such sweet figs were ever eaten again.

The bamboo fence lined Blackfish Street. Passerbys peeked through the fence of my yard and sometimes would pull down one or two bamboo strips. One by one, the bamboo strips were pulled, and soon, the fence was gone. Now, the bare yard was under the eyes of the public.

My yard lost two sides, leaving only a short wall. There was a door in the middle of the low wall, and when the bamboo fence was gone, the door became obsolete. The kids in the neighborhood and my playmates loved to play on the low wall, climbing up by the door and jumping off from the low wall. The bricks of the wall fell off a piece at a time. The wall became shorter and shorter, and eventually, the low wall was gone too.

After that, my yard became a public gathering place for my neighbors. It was used to cool down in the summer evenings and sunbathe in the cold winter. It was very lively. Girls played with rubber band jump ropes, shuttlecocks, "make a house"...etc. Boys played marble balls, turned cigarette shells, rolled hoops, fought chickens ...etc. Women would gather together to do needlework, while chatting and gossiping.

In the evenings of the heated summer, the neighbors made their beds in our yard by unhinging their doors, stacking them on benches, and sleeping on them to stay cool. Often times, they had to scramble for a spot in my yard on the hot summer nights. Sometimes we even had to unload our door early to get good spots. Clear night skies, starry skies, the Big Dipper, Cowherd Weaver, Sirius… I liked to lie on the door and gaze at the stars, counting them as I fell asleep. When the wind picked up at night, most of us went home to sleep, yet some people remained in my yard till next morning.

At that time, my Shandong Grandma lived with us and took care me and my brothers. Grandma was born in Shandong into a scholar family. She was well educated and knew a lot of stories. Often, on those hot summer evenings, my brothers and I sat on the door beds and listened to her stories. Grandma was a good storyteller. She would point to the stars in the sky or look at the birds flying by, and start to tell stories about them. According to her, everything had a story, no matter how far fetched - stories about feudal superstition, demons and goblins. At that time, these stories were forbidden. I often heard my father sternly warn my grandma of this.

My dad also loved to tell stories. He talked mostly about the history of the Chinese dynasties or Romance of the Three Kingdoms: Yang Xiu’s Chicken Ribs , Zhuge Liang's empty city trick, Guan Gongs passing five cities and killing six warriors...etc. Sometimes, Dad would shout from the yard, "My little chubby, come here to listen to stories." I obediently moved a small bench, sat next to my father and listened. While at times I could only comprehend half of what he said, I understood this was more to let my father enjoy himself.

During the Cultural Revolution, the large houses of families on the governments five category blacklist were occupied by several families of working class. Although no one moved into my house, the yard of my house became the target of public interest. The neighbor on my right, a family of eight, crowded into two bedrooms and had no place to cook, so they built a kitchen on a corner of my yard. Other neighbors also found it a good idea to take over part of the yard. One neighbor even opened a small grocery store in my yard facing Blackfish Street. By then the courtyard no longer existed, we had to zigzag around to get into our house.

When I was 25, my family moved away from Blackfish Street and bid farewell to the two story house that I lived in for 18 years. I bid farewell to the yard that had once brought me great joy.