Sorrow wells up in me, but I push through it, knowing I have a job to do. I tap one of the workers and ask, What happened?
Recognizing me and my status, she bows before answering. A section of wall had become unstable. The foreman put a placard up with a warning to keep us away from that area, but Bao didn’t see it.
Someone pushes his way through the crowd, and I feel my breath catch when I see Li Wei. He pauses to wipe sweat from his brow and peers around avidly, his dark eyes sharp and concerned. When he spies his father, Li Wei hurries over and kneels down by the old man. Whereas yesterday Li Wei was fiery and indignant, today he is all tenderness and compassion. I feel myself choke up as I watch him gently touch Bao’s face, hoping for a response. An overwhelming urge to run over and comfort Li Wei sweeps me, but I stay where I am. Resignation soon fills his features as he realizes what the rest of us already have: Bao is gone. That resignation turns to a mix of rage and grief. Li Wei clenches his fists and opens his mouth.
A sound comes out like none I have heard so far. Really, I’ve heard little in the way of human sounds. There is no need for us to make them. We stopped communicating with our mouths and voices ages ago. But the instinct is still there, especially in times of high emotion. I’ve felt the vibrations myself when I’ve sobbed, when I’ve let out little cries of sorrow, though of course I had no idea what they sounded like.
I do now, and it sends chills through me as I listen to Li Wei. A section of Feng Jie’s words comes back to me:
A scream is a sound we make that is born of intense feeling. A scream of fear, of being startled, is often high-pitched. It may be short or prolonged. A scream may also accompany delight or amusement, though often that is more of a squeal. And a scream of sorrow or rage . . . well, that is an entirely different thing. That comes from a darker place, from the depths of our souls, and when we scream in those times, because we are sad or angry, there is a terrible knowledge that accompanies it, that we are giving voice to our emotions, to what is simply too big for our hearts to contain.
And as Li Wei cries out, I know Feng Jie is right. It is his heart I am hearing, a way of expressing what he feels over his father’s loss that is both primal and far more eloquent than any words can convey. It is terrible and beautiful, and it comes from his soul and reaches something within mine. It is the sound my own heart made when my parents died, only I didn’t know it until now.
Li Wei attempts to pull himself together and peers at those gathered around. This shouldn’t have happened! he tells the crowd. He shouldn’t have been working down there, with his vision failing. Many of you knew it was. The foreman knew. But everyone pretended not to notice. How many more of you are like that? How many more of you are hiding your failing vision so that you can keep working?
No one answers that question, but one man at last bravely says, We have to work, or we can’t eat.
Only because you allow it to be that way! Li Wei protests. You further the system by continuing to be a part of it! So long as you keep sending metals down the mountain without question, nothing will ever change.
A woman responds, As long as we send metals down the mountain, my children continue to have dinner. If there is no food, they will starve. I will work my fingers to the bone to stop that from happening. Several other miners nod in agreement.
But there must be another way, Li Wei tells them. At the very least, if you are losing your sight, don’t go back to work. Don’t go down there to risk your lives and the lives of others. Don’t end up like him. Tears brim in his eyes as he clutches his father’s sleeve.