Guilt

1936
I wrap the dusty, old cloak tighter around my body as the morning fog falls lower into the markets.
It's a pathetic excuse for a cloak- it supplies no heat or protection from the cold, sticky air, but it is
very large. Many soldiers are roaming the markets because we are in the Civil War. My name is
Malia Song. My families name is Song, meaning strong and powerful. Neither of those names suit
me. I am weak and powerless. My family is extremely poor - so poor that we steal from the daily
market. Dali is our hometown in the Isle of Clouds where everybody is poor. My little brother is
extremely sick and so is Mama. Papa watches over me. He supports and is a member of the CPC
so he is always busy. It is my job to find food.
I pass a trolley of steamed buns. They look so fresh, steam lifts of them and the cook sprinkles a
green herb over them. I lean closer and smell them. The rich smell overwhelms me and I tilt my
head back in appreciation. The smell is so fresh, something me and my family aren't used to. I walk
inside the rest of the market tent and see so many amazing foods. This is it. While the cook flips a
type of pancake, I grab four of the steamed buns that were on the trolley. Quickly, I dig them under
my coat and look around the rest of the market casually. I walk out of the food tent and and start on
my way back to our home shelter.
I pull out one of the steamed buns as I walk between an alley way between two of the richest
houses in Dali lined with brick paving. My teeth sink into the dough and my mouth turns hot and
wet. The rest of the market is filled with souvenir tents, fruit and vegetable stores, jewellery, rice
and fish stores. I finish my bun as I walk into a tent held up with purple curtains with gold
embroidery stitched in it. A beautiful talisman necklace with a bird surrounded by bright rubies sits
in the folds of a piece of black fabric. These pendants are believed to bring a fortress of good luck,
which I am in need of. A lady sitting in the corner is stitching more of the purple and gold curtains
ready to be hung up and sold.
"Ni hao, what beautiful curtains you have made!" I tell the woman.
"Xiexie, thank you haizu. They are called zhengui chuanglian, precious curtains." The woman
beams at me.
"They really are beautiful," I say to her again. She smiles and nods once. I walk around the rest of
the tent, distracting the woman.
"Zaijian, goodbye!" I call out to the lady.
"Zaijian!"
I glance at the pendant again with the bird and the rubies, tracing the outline with my finger . While
the lady is stitching more of the curtain I slowly reach out and grasp the talisman, lowering it into
my pocket. Just as it it about to be hidden in the cloak, a man and a woman walk in to the tent.
Panic washes through me as they catch me stealing the pendant. Their face are confused at first,
wondering what I am doing.
"Tingzhi! Stop!" The owner of the tent calls to me, dropping the curtains to the ground as she
stands. I sprint as fast as I can out of the tent and into the market. My heart hammers in my chest

as I hear yelling and whistle sounds from behind me. It's the police - controlled by the Kuomintang one of the parties in the Civil War. This party is against the communists. They have no sympathy
for poor people. It's all over for me.
I jump into an alleyway and the noises of the whistles die down. I collapse against a wall after
about ten minutes of running.
"Ai!" a woman says next to me, shocking me so much that the I turn, fist ready to lunge out. I stop
when I realise that she has no weapons on her. She is dressed similarly to me, a brown, dirty coat
that hangs down to her bare feet. Her black hair straws down her face and her eyes are wide and
scary.
"Duibuqi, I'm sorry for alarming you, haizu. I am asking for your help. My family is in trouble, we
haven't had food for over two days!" She walks over to me and grips my arm tightly in her grasp. I
gasp as my arm turns white. Her short nails dig into my skin.
"Qing, please, qing. This starvation will take my girls lives!"
I am speechless. Even though Dali is a poor village I have never been asked for food before. The
whistle noises grow louder. I push my hand in my pocket a pull out the pendant.
"Zheli, here, take this," I hold out the pendant to her. She stares at it for a while. "Sell this and great
amounts of money will be yours."
"Oh my! Xiexie! Thank you haizu, child!" she gushes. She throws her arms around my neck and I
feel ashamed.
"I must go," I tell her with a small smile. She hugs me again as the whistles become louder.
"Zaijian." I run down the alley and turn the corner. I want to run back to my shelter, where my family
and safety is, but I can't. I can hear muffled yells and those annoying whistles from around the
corner. My feet stop in their tracks and I turn back and poke my head around the corner. Three
jingcha dressed in brown and black have the lady held tightly by the arms dragging her out of the
alleyway. She has the talisman tucked firmly in her hand. The woman screeches about me, but the
officers pay no attention to her. I feel sick as the guilty pain tears through me. I did something awful
to someone who was completely innocent with two daughters. I have to find those girls - I tore
apart their family- it's the least I can do.
I run back to my shelter as I feel the tears spill out of my eyes and down my face. I feel so horrible I
can hardly breathe. As I approach my shelter, Papa stands with a concerned smile. I run to him and
he hugs me tight, no words said. We pull apart and I give I put my hand in my pocket. He gives my
a questioning look, then a big smile as I give him the three steamed buns.

Bibliography To cite this article using MLA style citation:

"The Cold War for Kids: Chinese Civil War." Ducksters. Technological Solutions, Inc. (TSI), Nov.
2014. Web. 11 Nov. 2014. <http://www.ducksters.com/history/cold_war/chinese_civil_war.php>.
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