meanings were far beyond our experience or knowledge.
That year, on the eighth day of the fourth lunar month, Elder Sister’s sworn sisters met at our house for Bull Fighting Day. The five girls were already showing how well they would manage their future households by renting out the rice their families had given them to form the sisterhood and using the earnings to finance their celebrations. Each girl brought a dish from home: rice-noodle soup, beet greens with preserved egg, pig’s feet in chili sauce, preserved long bean, and sweet rice cakes. A lot of cooking was done communally too, with all the girls gathering to roll dumplings, which were steamed and then dipped in soy sauce mixed with lemon juice and chili oil. They ate, giggled, and recited
nu shu
stories like “The Tale of Sangu,” in which the daughter of a rich man remains loyal to her poor husband through many ups and downs until they are rewarded for their fidelity by becoming mandarins; or “The Fairy Carp,” in which a fish transforms itself into a lovely young woman who then falls in love with a brilliant scholar, only to have her true form revealed.
But their favorite was “The Story of the Woman with Three Brothers.” They did not know all of it and they didn’t ask Mama to lead the call-and-response, although she had memorized many of the words. Instead, the sworn sisters begged Aunt to guide them through the story. Beautiful Moon and I joined their entreaties, because this well-loved true-life tale—tragic and darkly funny at the same time—was a good way for us to practice the chanting associated with our special women’s writing.
One of Aunt’s sworn sisters had given the story to her embroidered on a handkerchief. Aunt pulled out the piece of cloth and carefully unfolded it. Beautiful Moon and I came to sit next to her so we could follow the embroidered characters as she chanted.
“A woman once had three brothers,” my aunt began. “They all had wives, but she was not married. Though she was virtuous and hardworking, her brothers would not offer a dowry. How unhappy she was! What could she do?”
My mother’s voice answered. “She’s so miserable, she goes to the garden and hangs herself from a tree.”
Beautiful Moon, elder sister, the sworn sisters, and I joined in for the chorus. “The eldest brother walks through the garden and pretends not to see her. The second brother walks through the garden and pretends not to see that she’s dead. The third brother sees her, bursts into tears, and takes her body inside.”
Across the room, Mama glanced up and caught me staring at her. She smiled, pleased perhaps that I had not missed any words.
Aunt began the story cycle again. “A woman once had three brothers. When she died, no one wanted to care for her body. Though she had been virtuous and hardworking, her brothers would not serve her. How cruel this was! What would happen?”
“She is ignored in death as in life, until her body begins to stink,” Mama sang out.
Again we girls recited the well-known chorus. “The eldest brother gives one piece of cloth to cover her body. The second brother gives two pieces of cloth. The third brother wraps her in as many clothes as possible so she’ll be warm in the afterworld.”
“A woman once had three brothers,” Aunt continued. “Now dressed for her future as a spirit, her brothers won’t spend money on a coffin. Though she was virtuous and hardworking, her brothers are stingy. How unfair this was! Would she ever find rest?”
“All alone, all alone,” Mama chanted, “she plans her haunting days.”
Aunt used her finger to carry us from written character to written character and we tried to follow, although we weren’t fluent enough to recognize most of the characters. “The eldest brother says, ‘We don’t need to bury her in a box. She is fine the way she is.’ The second brother says, ‘We could use that old box in the shed.’ The third brother says, ‘This
That year, on the eighth day of the fourth lunar month, Elder Sister’s sworn sisters met at our house for Bull Fighting Day. The five girls were already showing how well they would manage their future households by renting out the rice their families had given them to form the sisterhood and using the earnings to finance their celebrations. Each girl brought a dish from home: rice-noodle soup, beet greens with preserved egg, pig’s feet in chili sauce, preserved long bean, and sweet rice cakes. A lot of cooking was done communally too, with all the girls gathering to roll dumplings, which were steamed and then dipped in soy sauce mixed with lemon juice and chili oil. They ate, giggled, and recited
nu shu
stories like “The Tale of Sangu,” in which the daughter of a rich man remains loyal to her poor husband through many ups and downs until they are rewarded for their fidelity by becoming mandarins; or “The Fairy Carp,” in which a fish transforms itself into a lovely young woman who then falls in love with a brilliant scholar, only to have her true form revealed.
But their favorite was “The Story of the Woman with Three Brothers.” They did not know all of it and they didn’t ask Mama to lead the call-and-response, although she had memorized many of the words. Instead, the sworn sisters begged Aunt to guide them through the story. Beautiful Moon and I joined their entreaties, because this well-loved true-life tale—tragic and darkly funny at the same time—was a good way for us to practice the chanting associated with our special women’s writing.
One of Aunt’s sworn sisters had given the story to her embroidered on a handkerchief. Aunt pulled out the piece of cloth and carefully unfolded it. Beautiful Moon and I came to sit next to her so we could follow the embroidered characters as she chanted.
“A woman once had three brothers,” my aunt began. “They all had wives, but she was not married. Though she was virtuous and hardworking, her brothers would not offer a dowry. How unhappy she was! What could she do?”
My mother’s voice answered. “She’s so miserable, she goes to the garden and hangs herself from a tree.”
Beautiful Moon, elder sister, the sworn sisters, and I joined in for the chorus. “The eldest brother walks through the garden and pretends not to see her. The second brother walks through the garden and pretends not to see that she’s dead. The third brother sees her, bursts into tears, and takes her body inside.”
Across the room, Mama glanced up and caught me staring at her. She smiled, pleased perhaps that I had not missed any words.
Aunt began the story cycle again. “A woman once had three brothers. When she died, no one wanted to care for her body. Though she had been virtuous and hardworking, her brothers would not serve her. How cruel this was! What would happen?”
“She is ignored in death as in life, until her body begins to stink,” Mama sang out.
Again we girls recited the well-known chorus. “The eldest brother gives one piece of cloth to cover her body. The second brother gives two pieces of cloth. The third brother wraps her in as many clothes as possible so she’ll be warm in the afterworld.”
“A woman once had three brothers,” Aunt continued. “Now dressed for her future as a spirit, her brothers won’t spend money on a coffin. Though she was virtuous and hardworking, her brothers are stingy. How unfair this was! Would she ever find rest?”
“All alone, all alone,” Mama chanted, “she plans her haunting days.”
Aunt used her finger to carry us from written character to written character and we tried to follow, although we weren’t fluent enough to recognize most of the characters. “The eldest brother says, ‘We don’t need to bury her in a box. She is fine the way she is.’ The second brother says, ‘We could use that old box in the shed.’ The third brother says, ‘This
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