Written by Shining Young
Read by Thomas Chen
Lizhi Podcast Operation by Clark Shaw
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When I was a child, my mom used to tell me a story of a man selling sugarcane, who moved into our village 30 years ago.
He offered free sugarcane for kids every day after school.
Although his business was not going smoothly, he earned a reputation as “sweet man” for his kindness and simplicity.
I heard from my Mom that he was a teacher before, teaching children Chinese characters. My Mom was busy at that time, so I always stopped by his booth as long as I was free.
What I enjoyed there was more than the free sugarcanes; I could also partake of his stories—to me, he was walking story book full of tales, legends and historical events.
As a curious child, I often raised questions.
One time I asked him,” how does the sugarcane grow? Can you show me?” I remember his wrinkles crawled to the edge of his cheek and formed a smile, his eyes shining below his furrowed forehead. “I will show you someday.”
The very next day, He took me to a sugarcane forest where he handed a bag of sugarcane seeds to me, and said: ”Plant your own dream and witness how it sprouts”. I was stunned and stared at him with my mouth agape. He tapped me on the shoulder and gave me a fatherly smile. I nodded and planted the seeds.
Since then, I got obsessed with sugarcane. Every weekend I rushed towards to the forest, hoping to see the progress that my little sugarcane made. On a summer day, my sugarcane sprouted.
I was so excited that I could wait to show this to him. So I shouted his name loudly all the way in the forest. I could hear my echoes everywhere.
After 20 minutes, I found him. He was digging the dirt.
He turned around, staring at me with the same fatherly smile on his sweaty face.
“How was your little sugarcane?”
“I am just going to tell you about my sugarcane sprouts but I keep calling your name for long time. You didn’t hear it at all?” I was not happy that time.
“Good boy. Congratulation!And I am sorry, I was absorbed in digging my dirt.”
Later my Mom told me he was slapped by his father on in the face when he was young. So hard the slap was, he nearly got deaf.
That is why he could not hear me.
Thing changed on a spring.
That day, I finished my class and went home as usual. I didn’t see his sugarcane booth which was supposed to be there at that time. When I got home, I saw a tribe of people gathering in front of his house. Someone was crying...
He was dead.
My Mom told me he died from an accident. He was drunk the night before and pulling his sugarcane trolley. So careless he was, he dropped into a furrow, with his sugarcane trolley pinned on his body for a whole night.
That was a story 20 year ago and I can hardly remember what he looks like now. The sugarcane forest no long exists, But every time when I passed by the place where my sugarcane tree was planted. I can always recall the memory that day, I was yelling his name while he was digging the dirt.
I seldom eat sugarcane now, but the seed he planted in my mind is still there—it is the dream seeded in my childhood, and I will witness its sprouting.
This is my sugarcane man, forever a friend in my life.
Thank you!