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| The Salt of Chishui River |
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2010-01-06 14:38:50
China Daily |
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Life for the boatmen was hard. They had to be away from home a month at a time. They ate and slept on the boat. There were a lot of superstitions: Any word that sounded like "sink", "fall", or "drown" had to be avoided. Women were not allowed to walk over a rope. No dead body could be carried onboard. If someone got ill on boat, it was considered unlucky, so he had to hide it instead of seeking care on shore. If he died, he would be buried nearby and not be carried back home. It was believed that dead people would leave ghosts behind, who would haunt and bring disaster to the living.
A ritual at the launch of a new boat, or the start of a long voyage, was to sacrifice a pig or a rooster and splatter its blood on the bow, stern, keel and mast. That was to appease the gods of the river and the boats.
Rats were revered. If the boatmen saw rats jumping into the river, it was considered a bad omen. They would light candles, burn incense and offer food. After a few days, believing bad luck had been averted, they would continue the journey, gnawed by angst.
An important position, right after the helmsman, was that of the lead chanter. Chanting was not for diversion; it was a coordinated and instantaneous way of giving and receiving instructions, explains Yuan. The lead chanter had to know the terrain, especially the shoals - and there were 70 of them that could capsize boats.
Not until a boat reached a straight and peaceful section could the chants turn to frolicking, bantering and even amorous longing. "The Chishui chant is a variant of the better-known Sichuan boatmen's chant," notes Yuan.
"It has not been as well-preserved and recorded, though." But Yuan has been making amends. He has sought out many of the surviving boatmen, now all in their 80s or 90s, and chronicled every word and note. He also reproduces it vocally as he is a trained musician.
The most amazing story about Chishui boatmen concerns one special lead chanter named Hu, who was a woman. "She was so good her piercing pitch could raise the bow up the shoal, so every operator wanted to hire her. Just imagine a single woman, a widow, working among a bunch of naked men. She was one tough cookie, hurling the strongest language, even lashes, at the lazy ones. She is still held in awe, even remembered as a kind of goddess."
In a sense, boatmen of that age are like coalminers today. They were placed low on the social ladder, but were paid more than other jobs they could find. Echoes from the past, including photos and chants, have elevated them to a legendary status. Their sufferings have turned mythic. Their strenuousness, frozen poses of artistic beauty.
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