Free Leaving Mother Lake by Yang Erche Namu, Christine Mathieu Page A

pork and goat. The dog would not waste his time with grateful tail wagging. While my Ama thanked him for giving us our human life, he would swallow and crunch and choke and crunch again, his stomach rapidly inflating like a blown-up pig bladder below his protruding ribs, then he would squash his muzzle into his empty metal plate and push it around the house until he finally settled in a corner with the plate between his front paws. And at last it would be our turn to sit near the fireplace and enjoy the feast.
    Of course, there is a story about the Dog:
    A long, long time ago, people and animals lived forever. But as eternity went on, there were more and more people and animals and less and less room for them to sleep and play, and less and less food for them to eat. So the animals and the people began to squabble and fight and eventually made so much noise that the Great Heaven could not stand it anymore.
    The Great Heaven called all the animals together and told them that it had found a solution. From now on, aside from the goddesses and the gods, no one on the earth could live forever. Instead, every being was to have a mortal life, which meant that at the end of it, they would die. The Great Heaven, who did not want the responsibility of allocating life spans, had decided to call out a number of years and to leave it up to each animal to call back in response.
    When the Great Heaven called one thousand years, the Wild Goose answered: “Yes! Me!” And when the Great Heaven called one hundred years, the Wild Duck answered: “Yes! Me!” And when the Great Heaven called out sixty years, the Dog said: “Yes!” But the Human Being was so slow and clumsy that it was left with only thirteen years.
    Sorely disappointed at the prospect of such a short life, the Human Being went to complain to the Great Heaven. But the Great Heaven was not interested in complaints and suggested that the Human Being try to sort out its problems with the other animals. So the Human Being went pleading to all the animals, begging them to take its thirteen years in exchange for their own life span. Not surprisingly, no one was interested — until the Human Being asked the Dog, who agreed just because dogs have always loved people. But now the Human Being was so grateful that it promised to take care of the Dog forever. And this is why, every New Year’s Eve, dogs are given a full human meal, in remembrance of the Dog’s sacrifice.
    ON NEW YEAR’S DAY we went to pay the customary visits to our neighbors, to offer good wishes of health and longevity. Under her goatskin cape, my Ama was wearing her red vest and a bright multicolored sash around her waist. My sister wore her scarf, and I wore my brand-new red shoes.
    I felt so proud.
    As we walked from house to house, I could not take my eyes off my feet. When we sat by the fireplace, snacking and drinking, all I could see, all I could feel, were my feet in the pretty, cozy red shoes.
    But then, as the day grew old and darkened, my pretty shoes began to change color. Every yard had been swept clean of last year’s dirt, but clean as the yards were, the red earth stained my soles. And everybody wanted to touch and feel how soft and how warm, and I could not pull back from all the hands blackened from the soot of the fires. When we came home late in the evening, the soles of my shoes were all brown, and the tops were streaked with black marks left by so many inquiring hands.
    Everyone was very tired and full from too much food, and also quite drunk from all the Sulima wine, so they went straight to bed. But I did not want to go to sleep just yet — I was going to wear my shoes again the next day, and I wanted them to be clean and beautiful as new. I ladled some water into the enamel basin and washed and scrubbed my shoes until they were brand-new again, and I placed them against the fireplace to dry.
    As I knew that would take some time, instead of going to bed with Zhema, I climbed up on the kang