第8章 Strolling Among Flowers—Tahuahua Activity
Entry: Strolling Among Flowers
Strolling Among Flowers is an outdoor activity in Xiangxi for young people to meet each other and pursue their love life. It is held in May each year. Thousands of men and women gather on a hillside or on several hilltops, picking flowers, singing antiphonal songs and romancing.
When we are rushing between domestic and national affairs, tidings of spring are brought by trees, bursting with budding flowers, whispering in mountain breezes. A warrior, named Time, holding a gun called spring, shoots bullets of flowers towards the mountain where withered grass and fallen leaves are defeated and replaced by green hills and rivers as well as exuberant flowers. The flowers of these days are like ducks surfacing in large flocks and landing on the rivers, lakes and ponds while flapping their wings. They can be seen dancing joyfully in clusters to the tune of the wind everywhere, in the valleys, on the sunny slope, atop the mountains or along the riverbanks when men and women in Xiangxi begin strolling among flowers.
Pairs of feet come out leisurely from villages and narrow lanes; those feet have felt the night rain dripping from sycamore trees, passed by the frogs croaking in the ponds, and left traces in villages, gardens, fields, hillsides and valleys. Thousands of men and women, like thousands of bamboo shoots, rush out from mountains and dense forests all of a sudden. Their bright eyes blink among the shadows of flowers. Among the fair maidens, some are lively, some fairylike, some quiet and serene and some courteous, walking through the flowering shrubs, treading on the flowers and singing songs merrily. Men can be found in another ocean of flowers, handsome and manly, brave and energetic, and passionate and masculine. These men and women are dressed in their national costumes and even their hands, feet, eyes and eyebrows can tell you where they come from and who they are in a melodious language jingling like the silver ornaments on their costumes. They themselves are in full bloom, brilliant with passion burning inside. Ever since they were able to walk, they've known that flowers are good things, so they would like to make friends with flowers. Flowers, red or light-colored, blooming along the edge of the fields, filled their youthful dreams with beauty and joy. Now, instead of being engaged with the sight of a few flowers hanging on the boughs along the fields, they run to mountains of flowers with cherished dreams and wishes at the bottom of their hearts. They know the language of flowers that symbolizes youth and the vigor of life itself.
Pick a flower, smell and touch it. Then hear the whisper of flowers, which is so gentle and sweet.
Pick two flowers, smell and touch them, feel their unseen blood flowing and appreciate the warm and lovely pistils and stamens.
The first flower will be offered to their parents, the second to their brothers and sisters and the third, the most beautiful one, to their lovers.
People yearning for love stand among the flowers by the wooden railings. Will the man in a homespun and embroidered garment win her affections? Will the young lady in a batik cloth gown or the charming one with her sparkling eyes steal the heart of her admirer? As always, it is men who take the initiative of amorous advances. They can be easily captured by a single smile or wink and bewitched by the graceful feminine gait. They sing many love songs and flirt with their beloved sweethearts. Those songs and words cross clusters of flowers, march on relentlessly towards the hearts of their love and leave noticeable impressions there. Their female counterparts, reserved and reclusive, find nowhere to hide, nor do they want to hide. Instead, they hold a bouquet of flowers above their heads and throw them upwards until they disperse and fly in the sky, as splendid as the fireworks at festivals, especially Spring Festival. Those admirers, like packs of wolves that have long suffered from hunger and cold, watch such a beautiful scene excitedly and rush to stamp the flowers the minute they fall onto the ground. Their masculine limbs, which usually carry the smell of soil, can be seen speeding across the valleys in a life-and-death struggle, with bodies being tripped down over and over again, and flowers being spattered everywhere. The waves of shouts ebb and flow. Each of them is targeting the gate of love with their primitive vitality and passion, despite layers of obstruction and interception in between, as if they were clamouring, "Shoot! Shoot!"
The female side, moved by men's tussling with one another, also swarm towards the men and begin stamping on the flowers, turning the flowers into petals and finally tiny flecks. Soon, flowers can be seen lying everywhere like red lips. Thousands of men and women push, shove, touch, pinch and chase each other. When they fall down, they'll hold onto someone they love, seal their lips with a kiss, bear in mind their shape and wait their love to be in full bloom and bear fruit. However, that's not the end of the story. Crowds of people still hurry from one hill to another, one mountain to another until patches of green grass are stamped flat on the ground; leaves are shaken off the tree branches and lie in layers. Even ridges in the wheat fields are occasionally stamped flat. Flowers, like matchmakers, tempt the young lads and damsels into the swirl of loving sensibility.
When the tide water calms down, thousands of men and women like mermaids are sent to the shoal where they will bask in the sunshine. They will neither run nor shout. Instead, they will sit on huge rock plates or lawns in threes and fives and chat with one another. At some quiet corners, young lovers will be found. He will cautiously pluck a flower and offer it to his lover, who accepts it, holds it in her hands and smells it. It seems as if they were walking out of a painting. Her heart is stolen in the man's love-struck sight. Then flowers will be put in her hair and be made into a garland."It's so considerate of you!" She starts with acknowledgement."It is only for you." Responds her admirer. She voices, "You are so naughty." And the other replies, "It's only for you, too." "What a playboy you are. You'll be sick of love if you keep on picking flowers like this." She complains, or is trying to. Her love answers, "The love is my cure for my sickness." The woman says, "Put that garland on my head." The man will do as he is told. Now the woman is crowned with the beautiful garland.
Wind in the countryside blows through the red flowers and green trees. Wandering clouds, melodious birds' songs, the golden sun and murmuring brooks all witness the passionate love of the young souls. They, naked, hold each other tight in their arms. Men will sow seeds of love into their women's body in the hope that the seeds will sprout, bloom and bear fruits.
When the dusk is descending, women get up and walk away, because they will go and fetch more and more flowers in return for their men's love. The woman pinches her man's nose before she leaves. When she comes back with branches of flowers, she will sit beside her man, gently stroke his body and kiss it all over. She loves her man more than anything in the world. Neither power nor money can snatch away her heart. She will put one flower after another on her man's chest and belly until her man's naked and wild, robust and beautiful body is fully covered with fragrance. The man is her masterpiece that she feels most proud of for her entire lifetime. Those beautiful flowers, which have covered the man's body, will be buried deep in the woman's dreams. Even if the two do not get married in the end, the beauty and fragrance of life brought by those flowers will warm their hearts forever. Flowers, the battlefield where Xiangxi men and women fight for their love, have nurtured many brave champions of love and generous composers of love poems.