The Vine Basket by Josanne La Valley Read Free Book Online Page B

neighboring carts. Except for her white jacket and fancy scarf, she looked much like the other women, but Mehrigul knew who she was. She was the wife of the local party leader. A Uyghur, no more trusted than her husband.
    When Mehrigul was free, the cadre’s wife came over and examined the squash as if deciding whether or not to buy a piece. “Your teacher tells me you no longer go to school,” she said, still looking at the squash.
    Mehrigul kept her head down, too. She couldn’t let the woman see the hatred that seethed inside her.
    â€œIt’s true, isn’t it?” The woman moved closer.
    â€œYes . . . yes,” Mehrigul said, struggling for control.
Be calm. Think. Act like Hajinsa—not Ana.
She pulled in a deep breath and lifted her chin. “I’m helping my family for a while—during harvest. I have no intention of giving up my opportunity for an education or my chance to become more proficient in Mandarin. I know that is my key to a successful future.” Mehrigul shot her words straight into the face of the cadre’s wife.
    The woman did not back away. She narrowed her eyes. Looked intently at Mehrigul. Kept looking. Waiting.
    A numbness crept inch by inch up Mehrigul’s body as she strained to bring in more than tiny gasps of air. She must hold her gaze. She must!
    Finally, the cadre’s wife backed away. “We’ll see, my dear,” she said. A lopsided grin crossed her face. “I’ll keep track of you.” Her hands rested on her hips as she puffed herself up. “Remember, if you’re not in school, it will be easy for me to arrange your papers so you can be sent down south to work in one of the big factories.” She shrugged. “We have our quota to fill, you know, and you’ll be much more useful to your family if you go.”
    She paused. The sickening grin left her face. “You’re not going to run away like your brother did. Right?”

Nine
    E CHOES OF M EMET’S VOICE swirled through Mehrigul’s head as she watched the cadre’s wife slip back into the bustle of the market.
    Don’t be taken in, Sister. Don’t be taken in.
Be careful, Sister,
Memet had sung to her just before he left.
    Mehrigul shivered at the memory. It had been the end of market day. She and Memet sat on the edge of the cart as they headed home. Not saying much, Memet calling out to the donkey now and then when he went too slow. They’d had a good day, but Memet was on edge, sliding off the cart, jumping on again. “If Ata makes a deal to send you far away to work in a Chinese factory, don’t go,” he’d said suddenly. “He may try to make you do it. Some of his friends who need money are sending their daughters away. A few of the girls even want to go. But don’t, Mehrigul. Just don’t do it.”
    â€œWhy?” Mehrigul had asked.
    He wouldn’t answer. Wouldn’t look at her.
    Now he was gone.
    Mehrigul had learned the meaning of Memet’s warning by listening carefully to the whispered chatter of the women at market. She heard stories of girls who were sent south and never returned. The leaders didn’t want their daughters here at home, the women said, where they’d marry Uyghur men and have Uyghur babies. They hoped the girls who were sent away might find Chinese men and marry them; there was a shortage of Han Chinese women. Mehrigul learned it was even worse for the girls who did return home. No Uyghur man would marry one; he couldn’t be certain that a girl who’d been sent away was still a virgin.
    Don’t be taken in, Sister.
    Memet had known and now she did, too. And anyone honest with himself knew that things would not change, the Han would never leave.
    Mehrigul thought of the courage it had taken for Memet to take a stand against them. They’d tried to kill him, but they would punish her in a different manner. For no offense at all, she’d