I’ll Spend weeks to recollect my 9 days of returning to my Northwestern home in Xinjang.
1st week from the Lunar New Year Holiday. Still homesick, reminiscing about hometown, father, mother and everything.
Last September my college mate Robin had advised me about working as his subordinate and repeated few times afterwards. After I told this to my parents, they were pretty much approved of me working somewhere near home. But at this stage of my life, I’m the least tempted by that. I would, of course, have been tremendously grateful and feel fortunate had his offer come a year or so earlier. It simply reached me too late.
On my way home, the train running towards Xi’an was horrible. No hot water, heating, seatless and congested as hell. In two days I ate only two bowls of instant noodle, submerged in cold bottle water. Actually it wasn’t a bad idea to eat and drink little under situation like this, thus avoiding the inconvenience of having to go to bathroom. Being roughly 40 meters away from the toilet was almost like the distance from Guangzhou to Harbin. There were people and luggage everywhere, stiffly piled into each carriage. Every inch of space had been utilized. Not even enough room for you to turn around or get loose of your ached ankle, sore arms. You could only stand or squat miserably in the sea of people, and get constantly pushed or shoved. Such torture reached its peak at late night when the icy wind blown in through numerous apertures, kissing you desperate while you were helplessly struggling between the fatigue half dream and harsh reality.
To the contrary, the train from Xi’an heading Changsha was unbearably hot and suffocating. Sweater and coat were taken off, wearing only a shirt while the temperate outside is minus 10C. What hasn’t changed still was it wasn’t any lesser packed and stuffed with countless people, their weariness and agony than the previous one. Taking train saved me pretty money, yet it consumed my time and energy relentlessly.
Almost when I close my eyes, I was able to see again my house, parents, native folks, village. I’m the thirteen year old again, running around playing, having dominance over that land, trees and sky. Now I’ve gradually come to realize that my homeplace has already penetrated into every cell of my body, my blood and occupied the core of my soul. So when the wind driven generator slowly came to view across the vastly barren Gobi desert, I was awestruck and meanwhile connected, close to tears. No longer an outlander, there I felt I was welcomed, loved, missed like a dear friend. I used to be a part among them then left. Being away in the South for four years, at that moment I found my real identity by going back to them. No matter what gonna occur to me in the days to come, having grown up in the North West, I know that I have been and shall always be a westerner, a son mother Earth you brought up with bright sunshine and bounty sand. .
Should I be destined to move and seek long for my direction and root, set the sail and I shall regretlessly take on board and confront the battle.
