陶玉明《远方的故乡》

My hometown perches on the southwestern fringe of the Yunnan-Guizhou Plateau, nestled on a ridge west of the Lancang River. The azure sky, pure white clouds, verdant river waters, and earthy-gray dwellings lend an air of time-worn solemnity and desolation to this ancient village.

It's not just the land that is lonely and sorrowful but also my wandering body and soul. Whether I search for my hometown on the map of China or Yunnan, I cannot pinpoint its exact location, as it is smaller than the tip of a needle. Standing high on the hilltop, gazing towards my hometown, the sun blinds my eyes, and the hardships endured by several generations of my family pierce my heart like the tip of a needle.

I have never mentioned the name of my hometown to outsiders. Among all the rural place names I have heard, my hometown's name is the most rustic and unpretentious. Perhaps that rustic name was a voice raised by the tribal people in hardship during those distant times.

The name of my hometown's village is inherited from an ancient minority language. In those days, the Chinese language had not yet reached this village, and its translation in Chinese roughly means "a place where water is carried in earthen jars." The fact that a village related to water relies on earthen jars to fetch water speaks volumes about water scarcity.

The vast Lancang River is rich in water, yet my hometown, situated along its banks, finds water scarcer than tears.

Earthen jars were the earliest utensils used by the people of my hometown. They could cook food, hold water, store valuable items, and even hold the deceased's ashes. In primitive societies, they were first used in sacrificial activities to house the spiritual objects of ancestors, and archaeologists refer to them as "Pu jars."

Archaeologists believe that wherever there, "Pu jars" once existed in this ancient nation. Wherever this ancient nation lived, one can find fragments of Pu jars. Based on excavations of Pu jars and human activity sites, ancient Pu people have lived there for over 3,000 years. Carrying water in a village in earthen jars for 3,000 years carries not just water but bitter tears.

In the ethnic language of my hometown, the name of my village is perhaps a "bird language" that no one in the world can understand. Having studied Chinese for a lifetime, I have tried to write my hometown's name in Chinese characters, but I cannot find the most accurate words. Perhaps the wordsmiths never invented such a term. Once, a folklore expert asked me to pronounce my hometown's name in my native language so he could follow me. After repeating it three times, no matter how much he tried to correct his pronunciation, it still sounded like the meow of a nocturnal cat. I don't know if such a pronunciation can be represented in the International Phonetic Alphabet.

After all, my hometown is my hometown, and the native soil is the motherland that nurtured me. For this reason, I intend to write a piece about her.

My hometown boasts towering mountains, steep slopes, and deep ravines. The hard rock forms the bones of the hills, the dark, ash-grey soil is their skin, the crystalline springs flowing like tears are their blood, and the vegetation struggling to survive in the crevices is their hair.

My hometown has many mountains, but the ground is hardly level, and the roads are scarcely wide. The topography is diverse, and the names of the mountains are equally eccentric. Some hills are named for their shapes, like Fairy Mountain, Horseback Mountain, Oxhead Mountain, and Grindstone Mountain; others are named for their colours, like Big Black Mountain, Great Green Mountain, Red Soil Mountain, and Yellow Earth Mountain; still others are named for people, such as Aibao Mountain, Nizhang Mountain, Bula Mountain, and Yue'e Mountain; some are named for animals, like Deer Mountain, Muntjac Mountain, Leopard Mountain, Monkey Mountain, and Rock Goat Mountain; some are named for trees, like Camphor Tree Mountain, Olive Tree Mountain, Pine Tree Mountain, White Flower Mountain, Cherry Tree Mountain, Birch Tree Mountain, and Mango Tree Mountain; some are named for stones, like Big Stone Mountain, Small Stone Mountain, Slate Mountain, and Stone Pillar Mountain; and some are named for myths, legends, and stories, like Princess Mountain, Battle Mountain, Ox-Buying Mountain, and Horse-Resting Mountain. Every mountain has a myth, and every piece of land has a story. These myths and stories nourish the souls of the people of my hometown, making them firmly believe that this land is a shared home for both humans and gods.

### Gumiaya: The Mythology of Creation

In the mythology of the Blang people, there is a revered legend known as "Gumiaya." Long ago, the universe was without sky or earth, veiled in a mass of dark, floating clouds and mist. A colossal rhinoceros roamed these ethereal realms, befriending the clouds and keeping company with the fog, wandering freely through the infinite space.

The giant deity Gumiaya and his twelve children transformed the rhinoceros into the world we know. They peeled off its skin to create the sky, adorning it with beautiful clouds. They made stars from its eyes, and from its flesh, they fashioned the earth. Its bones became stones, its blood turned into water, and its tail morphed into various flowers, trees, and plants. Finally, they used their brains to create humans and their marrow to give life to birds, beasts, insects, and fish.

However, the newly formed sky and earth were unstable. To fortify them, Gumiaya used the rhinoceros's four legs as pillars to support the sky and enlisted a giant turtle to hold up the earth. It is believed that earthquakes occur due to the turtle's movements. Thus, the sky stabilised, and the earth solidified. The sky was adorned with beautiful clouds and sparkling stars while life flourished on the planet below. People worked diligently, birds soared through the air, bees sang among the flowers, deer roamed the hillsides, and fish swam in the rivers.

In those ancient times, the mountains of our homeland began to take shape. Judging by their names, it is believed that this land was once a place where dense forests thrived, animals flourished, and humans and gods coexisted harmoniously. Large and small mountains dotting the landscape within a radius of less than a hundred li resemble a steamer filled with steamed bread. During the transition from spring to summer, when the rainy season arrives, the misty mountains and hills emit wisps of smoke, transforming even barren landscapes into a dreamlike, enchanting realm.

The people of our homeland have always relied on the mountains for sustenance. These unassuming mountains have nurtured generation after generation of our fellow citizens. On the mountaintops, meadows serve as grazing grounds for cattle. These grazing areas lie about seven to eight li from the village on the near side and over ten li on the far side. Cattle herders drive the cattle out at dawn after a light breakfast and return only after dark. If they return too early, the cattle won't have eaten enough grass. Lunch, packed in a bamboo box from home, usually consists of a simple cornmeal cake. Several families often entrust one person to look after their cattle to save labour. Typically, one adult handles five or six cattle, while a child manages three or four. The narrow and steep mountain paths make it challenging to oversee many cattle.

Compared to other farmwork, herding cattle is considered the most relaxed task and is often undertaken by older people and children. However, this is only relative to the heavier tasks of rural life; herding cattle is still no easy feat. I herded cattle as a child, and the scenes of grazing on the mountain are vivid in my memory. The slopes by the riverbank are steep and deep, with jagged cliffs. Driving cattle uphill always made me feel anxious and breathless, my limbs weak; descending the slope was equally terrifying, leaving my limbs sore and shaky. If my cattle got into a fight with other herds, I had to use a long stick to disperse them. If a cow accidentally stepped into a hole and broke a leg or got injured during a fight, I would hesitate to bring it home, fearing punishment from the adults. Cattle are the lifeblood of farmers, essential for ploughing the fields along the riverbank. Without them, these fields would have to be dug by hand.

The mountain ridges are home to trees from which locals cut timber and collect firewood. Locals must venture deep into the mountains to build houses to find straight, thick, and sturdy logs. The felling site must be on the upper slope of the hill where the village sits; otherwise, transporting the logs back would be impossible. Once felled, the timber is left to dry for two to three months before being hauled back with a thick vine rope. Felling timber is challenging, requiring a sharp axe explicitly designed for the purpose, and only the physically strong can wield it. The size and quality of a wooden frame house, with its varying heights, the thicknesses of its pillars, and the straightness or curvature of its rafters, all depend on the skill of the timber cutter. One can gauge a homeowner's capability by looking at their house's height and regularity. Families with strong labourers tend to build taller houses, while the homes of widowed or orphaned households are more minor.