CHINA> Post-quake Life
Quake sorrow etched in stone
By Yi Ling (China Daily)
Updated: 2009-05-14 09:59

"The chisel left not only a mark on the stone, but also a scar on my heart. Even now, I can't believe that such a nice person is gone forever," he says, burying his face in his hands.

Since the quake struck, Wu has received barely 20 tombstone orders, just half the number over the same period in previous years.

He is not surprised. "Life is tough. The survivors are finding it difficult to make a living. Besides, it is customary here to make gravestones three years after a person is buried."

Most tombstones in Wu's shop are made of local marlstone and a finished piece sells for 300 to 400 yuan, while those made of marble or granite cost twice as much.

Wu doesn't mind the slack business. His shop sells funeral articles like wreaths, incense, and paper money that help him make ends meet.

Actually, he feels somewhat relieved with the slack business, because customers "bring back painful memories of the quake".

Quake sorrow etched in stone

However, when he does get a customer, business is usually conducted in a chilly silence. No bargaining, no chatting. Even necessary conversation is simple and short. Families don't want to talk about the departed, and Wu doesn't pry.

"Sometimes, you may not see the pain in their faces, but you can still feel the sorrow over the permanent loss of a loved one," he says.

Usually, family members tell Wu all that they want to say to their loved ones - and Wu then tries to put them into inscriptions.

But it's not easy, because no tombstone is complete without its epitaph. A traditional Chinese epitaph includes the name of the deceased, the date of birth and death, the cause of death, the names of family members and the date the headstone is put in place.

The most important part is the elegiac couplet, where families express their feelings for those dead. When it comes to the quake victims, penning this couplet poses the greatest challenge for Wu, who now blames himself for quitting school when he was 16.

Even the old reference book on couplets, a gift from Wu's master when he finished his apprenticeship in 1987, is not of much help.

"It does list several examples but none of them talks about earthquakes," says Wu.

He now has a notebook that contains 24 couplets he created specially for quake victims. Examples such as "ruthless quake takes mother away, endless love keeps her soul stay" have won over many customers.

Of all the tombstones he has made, the one for a nine-year-old schoolboy named Xiang (which means "flying") left him with the deepest impression.

Wu remembers Yang's teary mother insisting on using a full-length picture of Xiang in the headstone, although the common practice is to have just a head picture.

Wu says: "The picture showed Xiang in a park, jumping high, wearing a big smile, and with arms wide open, as though he were really flying in the sky.

"I could tell the picture symbolized Xiang and said so much of his parents' love for him."

 

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