It suddenly occurred to me that our generation is experiencing great changes in the history of urbanization in China, and we are losing young people in villages, land, old houses, neighbors and ancestral graves. When the "old man in hometown" is gone, how will the homesickness of the wanderer be placed? Where will the soul and faith live? When our successors set up modern farms, the century-old trees in the village, the ancient temples and the ancient and simple rural customs and culture, who will rescue them and inherit them? Maybe by then, we have forgotten our hometown? If so, will those who seek roots in the future end up like today's rescue of Confucius culture?
The last cow
When I returned to my hometown, it was around Qingming. I always want to see the spring of rape blossoms in my hometown again. I am afraid of the great changes in my hometown in the future. Spring in my hometown is no longer what it used to be. In my memory, my hometown is an endless green field, just like "Our hometown is in the field of hope" sung in the village loudspeakers in the last century. The villagers worked in the terraced fields, wearing straw hats, bent down, driving buffaloes, carrying bamboo whips, holding plowshares, humming songs, smoking tobacco bags and renovating the soil after rice harvest. Pieces and piles of rape flowers are in full bloom in the fields, and the whole village is shrouded in the fragrance of spring. ...
In the village, the cement road replaced the loess road, and the flat and clean village road was sparsely populated. In order not to disturb my neighbors, I got off early and walked. I rushed to the country road where I played as a child, to the pond where I fished as a teenager, to the field where I sweated as a teenager, and to the field where my companions and I picked straw mushrooms. ...
I want to be close to every hilly yellow land, every soil, every weed and my dream place.
The monsoon in the south is moist, like a girl's hand touching every wisp of kitchen smoke, like a girl's lips kissing every crop field. The delicate aquatic plants poked their heads out of the pond, trying to smell the spring breeze. Lavender desperately absorbs the growth of young flowers and tries to explore Chunniang's waist. I breathe deeply and try my best to bring every breath of spring in my hometown into my heart and put it in my softest place to fill my years of lovesickness.
However, the green vegetable fields I tried my best to find, and the rape flowers all over the mountains did not appear in front of my eyes, and the fields were deserted and empty.
I found a cow in the east corner of the village.
Cattle are chewing straw by the haystack, which is very leisurely and lazy. Its head is a gray sky. The cow looks a little depressed. It is an old cow. It may be due to long-term idleness, long hair almost touching the ground, tail swinging feebly,' eyes lacking collagen are dull and posture is weak.
This cow is raised by Brother Lobby.
According to Brother Lobby, because of the popularization of mechanization in the village, most cows don't need to work in the fields. Five years ago, there were about 300 cows in the village, but in recent years they have all been sold and killed, and now this is the only one left in the whole natural village.
"This cow, when it was bought, was still a calf. People raise it for plowing, raking and threshing, and pulling grain with scooters ... but after it is established step by step, it is not easy to grow into a strong labor force. It has followed me 10 for many years. In the past years, it accompanied me to come here in the muddy water. It is meritorious. It used to support a big family. I'm still active, and I'm still qualified to plow vegetables. In the future, even if it can't go to the fields, I will continue to raise it and be its companion. Save it for old age, and save it for death. As long as I am alive. "
Brother Lobby was very emotional when he said these words, and his eyes were filled with muddy tears. But my stomach suddenly has a particularly uncomfortable feeling. It's like tingling and cramping. I seem to see another red sun, fragrant grass, fragrant cauliflower, cattle and sheep all over the slope, far and near, one capital after another is a song calling for spring, and people and cattle waded through spring mud, spring water and spring water.
The last well
I have an old neighbor in my hometown, Uncle Zhong. He is over seventy years old this year and has been looking after the old house for my family for more than twenty years. I never thanked him in person. This time I went back to my hometown, I just went to his house to have a look.
The hall has a white wall and a white roof, and a fluorescent lamp is hung in the middle. In addition to the grain harvested in previous years, the hall is full of sacks and sacks. On the other side of the hall are some farm tools and wooden chairs. There is a liquefier stove at the back of the hall. There is a small iron pot on the stove with unfinished vegetables in it. There is a steam tank next to it. It seems that Uncle Zhong no longer cooks with traditional clay pots.
Behind the back door of the hall is the backyard. The cowshed and pigsty in the backyard are still there, but they are empty. There are no animals in the fence, and there is a wooden fence outside the door. The kitchen opposite is crooked, and half of it has fallen down. The exposed wooden rafters are bent and drooping, and the remaining tiles are crumbling. Uncle Zhong seems to have never meant to repair it.
There is a well in the backyard. It was played in the early 1990s, which is similar to our house, because the house was built in the original paddy field, and the groundwater can only be seen around 15m. During the prosperous period of population, water is enough for a family to eat.
Uncle Zhong said that now all the children are married and working, and his son and daughter-in-law moved to town ten years ago. The water in this well has become rich, and it will stink if it is not eaten for a long time, especially in spring and summer. So a water pump was installed to pump the excess water into the ditch behind the yard.
I remember that in the natural village, our family was the first to dig wells. Back in those days, the villagers were all carrying buckets to fetch water, queuing up, talking and laughing, talking about their parents' shortcomings and making fun of their daughter-in-law and brother-in-law. Children sometimes follow, waiting for clear water to come up and have a drink, so that sweet water can swim in the throat. The children are comfortable, the village is warm and the days are full of vitality.
Nowadays, most of the old houses twenty years ago have lost their homes and the wells have been abandoned. However, due to the sharp drop in population, the wells of other families have been dormant for a long time, and the mechanical rods for taking water will rust. After changing it several times, I was too lazy to change it again, and the result was abandoned.
Uncle Zhong said that his well would be the last well in the village. But how long can it last?
Final slope
Because most of the young and middle-aged laborers are working in big cities in the north or south, most of the land in the village has been lost. When the uncultivated land was transferred to the left-behind villagers, the village mobilized to repair the tractor-ploughed cement road, clear the way to dig canals, turn rice fields into fish ponds, and build an economic zone for raising turtles. The arid land is also used to raise ostriches, peacocks, frogs and insects ... In the past, wild flowers were fragrant, grass was all over the hillside, and children were in groups. The natural landscape of Jinhai Snow Mountain, where cattle and sheep care for each other, gradually disappears.
I walked to the south of the village where I used to slip through the slope when I was a child. It was found that mulberry trees, bitter plum trees, lotus trees, acacia trees and trees on the slope were all cut down. The river slope covered with moonlight flowers in spring and summer has become a canal.
The river behind the house, only two or three meters wide, may be an irrigation canal dug across counties and cities during the period of collective labor, stretching for nearly a hundred miles. The river is rich in aquatic plants, and the green grass on the river slope is rich and tender. The dry season is the only way for children to go to school and adults to go to the streets in our natural village. Across the river is a green vegetable garden. Children often help their mothers and sisters choose farmyard manure to grow cucumbers, tomatoes, peppers, long beans, lentils, eggplant, carrots and sweet potatoes. Later, some people who moved here bought some corn and sunflowers. Rain or shine, spring, summer, autumn and winter, early morning and dusk, from a distance, the girls are watering and fertilizing the vegetable fields-bending over, lowering their heads, raising their faces and twisting their braids. It always reminds people of scripts describing rural love, such as Love of Hawthorn Tree. Every spring and summer, the unique fragrance of cauliflower peas and the red, white and purple fruits hanging on the branches will always make people drool unconsciously, take a breath of fresh air and make their lips and teeth fragrant.
Uncle Zhong said, "The vegetable fields on both sides of the river are no longer planted, and the river is full of new reeds." The river slope you want to see is only available in the village next door. There is also a long slope next to the path leading to the township road. The pumping station is still there, but it is rarely used. At this time, it should be overgrown with weeds, and the path that no one walks is afraid of being blocked by weeds, so there is nothing to see. "
The last cabin
In the village, there are four small natural villages, which we call Qizi. Thirty years ago, an example lived in an earthen house. Roof after roof, a hundred strands of rain. The village is a family, row by row, open in the open space of the field, ensuring that every family can receive the blessing of spring at the same time to welcome the red sun in Dongsheng.
More than twenty years ago, more than half of the earthen houses disappeared. Ten years ago, there were less than five huts left here. Now I hear there are one or two mud houses left.
I passed a loess road behind the village. I used to take this road to my cousin Hougang. Lu Xu has been in a place where no one walks. There are weeds all over the ground, leaving only two ruts.
There are not many people in Houwan, and several houses have been demolished in the early tile house, leaving a large open space in the middle. Behind Houwan, there is another one. The head of the household is Zhao Shu. His family has been living in an old house with gray tiles and earth walls. Zhao Shu is a shrewd old man. He used to be an expert in farming in the village and enjoyed the scenery for a long time. Uncle Zhao is also famous for his hard work and wisdom in the village.
When I lived in the village, I often went to Zhao Shujia to run around. His children are all ambitious people, and Yao is a kind girl with a very gentle spirit. This is my childhood. At that age, a group of our peers often got together and talked about cooking wine and playing the piano. I like Zhao Yi's home cooking, and I like Qing Er's earthen house, which is warm in winter and cool in summer. Qing Er's brother is a handsome scholar in the village. We call him Niu Ge. Niu Ge writes well, and there are many books at home. I am an old customer of his family.
When I visited, Uncle Zhao was not at home, and a bronze lock was hung on the door. There are long bamboo poles hanging clothes on the eaves on both sides of the gate, and both ends of the bamboo poles are hung on the beams with ropes. Some washed cotton-padded clothes are hung on one side of the bamboo pole, and a row of corn skewers is hung on the other side. There are firewood and hoes for the fire in front of the house. A greyhound saw me approaching and barked.
This is what I am familiar with. This earthen house should have stood here for fifty or sixty years. The door tilted slightly, revealing a very irregular crack.
The host is not at home, so I can't disturb him. Besides, if I see what dope is, I don't know what to say, and I don't know if both sides can recognize each other. After more than 20 years' changes, is Zhao Shu still the plowman holding a whip and driving donkeys and scooters from one village to another, shouting and echoing?
Zhao Shu offered to buy our brick house twice, but both failed. He continued to live in that earthen house. If one day he falls down, or the hut disappears, too many childhood memories will disappear.
The last old man
There used to be 50 or 60 families with 200 or 300 people in my natural village. Now there are only a dozen households with a population of less than 30. And most of them are over 70 years old.
Uncle Zhong said that in the past, people came and went on the village roads, and they often heard villagers irrigating crops for river water or quarreling over trivial matters in Li Zhi. Now they can't even find someone to quarrel with, let alone get angry.
The oldest in our family is Uncle Sande, who is 88 years old this year. The two sons and grandchildren moved to the town and the county town successively to do the business of tofu and vegetables respectively. The two tile houses in the village are now guarded by Uncle Sande. It's a bit difficult to look after two houses by yourself. The old man's eyes can't see clearly what is three meters away, so it is difficult for him to take care of himself. Like many old people, Uncle Sande eats very little at every meal. When you are hungry, go to the field and pick some Chinese cabbage or radish and cook it with boiling water and oil.
When I returned to the threshing floor, people from the natural village gathered together. There are five people standing in such a big venue. Sister Qing said, "Look, there are only a few people left in the cellar now." She glanced at Uncle Thornton sitting on the porch of the house in the sun. "You have seen that Uncle Sande is in this state. I wonder if he can survive this winter? "
Talking about my plan to renovate the old house, Uncle Zhong said, "It's not worthwhile to spend money here. You saw several houses cracked and damaged in the village. Even the two-story building has been abandoned. In a few years, the town will send people to tear down the house. It is said that other villages are now trying out the new policy of land transfer, concentrating most of the fields, leveling out small pieces of uneven land to expand roads and build farms, and all the householders who have not built suitable houses in the village have moved to new countryside. Even the day when the old house in our village was pushed away is not far away ... "
Sister Qing replied, "Now the youngest couple in the village are in their fifties. Their children have an unfinished task, and they are still in college. I'm afraid I'll take my children away after they graduate from college and have jobs. Finally, who will stay? "
Brother Dean, a bricklayer in the village, lit a cigarette and took a drag. "You are a man of heart, also know that come back to see folks, look at the old house. There are not many children who want to come back now. Some find a partner and don't want to come back to live in the village when they get married. It is said that it is too inconvenient to stay at home and there is no place to take a bath. "
When Brother De 'an said this, I saw a slender vegetable field near the threshing floor. There are several kinds of wild rape flowers in full bloom in the spring breeze, and pink flowers attract some bees. Among the flowers, several chicks are looking down for food. This scene of spring is in sharp contrast with the rows of old houses that have long been deserted and lifeless. The village is extremely quiet!
Who will be the last old man left in the village? Is it Sister Qing? Is it Brother De 'an? ……
I dare not think.
Hometown, hometown, no house, no land, no relatives, is it still a hometown?
Emotional attachment and yearning for life will be the hometown I am no longer familiar with, the hometown of others and the soil of others. Wandering in the distance, where will you put your homesickness in the future?