The Nanmen River of My Hometown

Everyone misses their hometown. Even after traversing countless ravines and crossing numerous mountains， the hometown remains a tender and indelible memory embedded deep in the heart.

My hometown is Guanzhu Town， Dianbai County， Maoming City， a beautiful little town in western Guangdong. Speaking of my childhood， the Nanmen River in my hometown is what I find to be the most unforgettable. The Nanmen River， as the name suggests， is a small river flowing south of Guanzhu Town. This river isn’t long， and it’s not famous on any map -- its trace is hard to find， but it ran through my entire childhood， bringing endless joy to those years.

The past is like a dream， like smoke. Opening the letter of memory， recalling every detail of my childhood， the long-sealed years reappear before my eyes. The ceaselessly flowing water of the Nanmen River， its tinkling like a lovely melody， always lingers at the door of my heart. No matter where I am， I will never forget that small river that accompanied me as I grew up， the Nanmen River of my hometown.

In my memory， the Nanmen River is truly a beautiful river. The riverbanks are covered with lush grass. In the morning light， the green grass is lush. The mist is pale， and wildflowers bloom all year round， with colorful butterflies and dragonflies flitting through the grass， occasionally joined by reed warblers， sparrows， and other lively birds. After school， I would help my mother wash clothes in the Nanmen River， and when tired， I’d sit on the riverbank to rest. With a supremely content heart， I’d casually pick a few wildflowers， smell their rich fragrance， and watch the butterflies flit back and forth， free in the grass， feeling the spiritedness of nature. I’d lie in the grass， gazing up at the vast blue sky， watching clouds float by as if right before my eyes， with a gentle breeze whispering in my ear. At those moments， my thoughts would drift with the wind， floating far away. Breathing in the scent of the hometown soil， filled with anticipation and a myriad of thoughts， I’d dream of the future of attending university， gaining expertise， and one day returning successful and revisiting my roots.

At a glance， across the riverbanks， the fields are a lush green. The fields are filled with rice and a variety of fruits and vegetables. In spring， the fields are a vibrant green， turning golden in autumn. When the wind blows through the rice paddies， it’s like waves rolling continuously. I remember in second grade， our music teacher taught us to sing “Beautiful Fields”: “Our fields， beautiful fields， the green river waters flowing through endless rice paddies， endless rice paddies， like the undulating surface of the sea ...” and the rice paddies along the Nanmen River looked just as described in the song. When I sang this song， I sang with great vigor and emotion， and the music teacher even had me lead the singing onstage.

In third grade， when we studied the text Zhaozhou Bridge in Chinese class， my mental reference was the Nanmen Bridge over the Nanmen River. Though the Nanmen Bridge doesn’t have the ancient history of Zhaozhou Bridge， the naive and innocent me thought our hometown’s Nanmen Bridge was a replica of Zhaozhou Bridge， equally beautiful， magnificent， and functional. Even today， as I drift in a foreign land， admiring ancient poetry， whenever I read Xin Qiji’s “The fragrance of rice flowers speaks of a bountiful year， listen to a chorus of frogs，” I am reminded of the enchanting rural scenery along the banks of the Nanmen River. When I read Wang Wei’s “Over endless river the sun sinks round，” I recall the magnificent sunset over the Nanmen River. At dusk， standing on the Nanmen Bridge， watching the egg-yolk-like sun slowly setting， its afterglow turning the rice fields on both banks a glowing red， these are vivid memories from my childhood， unforgettable.

In the season transitioning from spring to summer， when the town experiences power outages， and darkness descends with only the chirping of cicadas， my friends and I would often take flashlights to shine on cicadas just emerging from their burrows， climbing up branches， shedding their shells. We also enjoyed playing by the riverbank during these times. When the full moon rises above the trees， it appears especially large and round， its silvery light reflecting on the shimmering river surface， making the Nanmen River resemble a silver ribbon， ethereal and winding， stretching into the vast night sky. The moon is hazy， the birds are hazy， and the riverbank is a picture of tranquility and peace. Hidden in the grass， the continuous chirping of insects sounds like a melodious nocturne under the vast night sky， with countless fireflies dancing along to the nocturne. Under the moonlight， as reflective as a mirror， we would frolic on the riverbank， chasing fireflies or catching crickets， our laughter echoing throughout the village， drifting into the clear and expansive night sky. What a joyful childhood!

I remember on one side of the riverbank (towards Shangtun Village)， small bamboo groves were planted intermittently， a paradise for many kingfishers. At dawn， as the eastern sun rises slowly， the early birds joyfully chirp among the lingering morning mist around the bamboo， and children love to come here to watch and catch kingfishers. About a hundred meters from a small bamboo grove (on the side of the riverbank near Kantouka Village)， there is a stone archway and culvert where clear river water flows out to irrigate the fields along the bank. People like to sun-dry preserved radishes on the top of the stone archway and culvert， and children enjoy playing around it， playing with mud and sliding down the stone steps， waiting for their mothers who were washing clothes by the river， sometimes rolling up their trousers to catch tadpoles or crabs in the river， having the time of their lives.

On one side of the bank near the Nanmen Bridge (toward Kantouka Village)， there are three ancient banyan trees. Their trunks twisted and robust. Their branches rugged. Their leaves lush and dense. Under the old banyan trees， the sand is soft and white as snow， as fine as cotton， a place we children loved to play in during childhood， sometimes climbing the tree branches to catch birds. It is said that at night， young men and women in love from the town prefer to sit under these old banyan trees on the soft， fine sand， intimately sharing their feelings.

Day or night， the meandering river murmurs and flows ceaselessly. The clear river water reveals many uniquely shaped， smooth， crystal-clear pebbles and patterned agate stones along its course and banks. Little fish and shrimp play freely and contentedly in the river. When I was washing clothes in the river， little fish and shrimp would swim around my feet. Although I tried to catch them， I could never manage to. In the sandy holes along the riverbank， many clams live， the small rings of sand around the holes are the air holes made by the clams， and we often dug them out， took them home to cook， and after a satisfying meal， we would receive praise from the adults. The taste of Nanmen River clams is still vivid in my memory. In the morning， the Nanmen River is a realm for women and girls washing clothes; they chat about daily life while working， their vibrant speech and cheerful atmosphere enlivening even the fish and shrimp in the river. In the hot summer evenings， the Nanmen River becomes a haven for boys and men from the town and nearby villages， who bring their children to swim and bathe in the river， the joyous scene and bustling atmosphere seemingly infecting even the spectacular sunset， as if the setting sun is smiling along with them.

After I started working and returned to my hometown， the Nanmen River had completely lost its past beauty. The trees along the riverbanks had been cut down， leaving them bare， with not a single tree in sight. Those three ancient banyan trees had vanished without a trace. The stone archway and culvert were reduced to ruins， dilapidated and barely standing， and the area was covered with black， smoky trash. Due to the loss of tree roots， some parts of the riverbank had begun to collapse， no longer having soft， fine， snow-white sand. Trash piled up along the riverbank， filling the air with stench. Ah! The Nanmen River had become a dumping ground for residents， who threw their trash into the riverbanks， sometimes even discarding dead chickens and ducks， emitting foul odors， with flies swarming everywhere. The river water， once crystal clear with groups of lively fish and shrimp， had now turned into a stagnant， murky flow， devoid of its former vitality and prosperity. Seeing the Nanmen River transformed into this state， I clasp my hands in despair， deeply saddened， even the distant mountains seem to have lost their former brilliance.

“As the river flows， so does time， ceaselessly， day and night.” Recalling the Nanmen River of my hometown， the land that give birth to and nurtured me， my heart is inevitably filled with sighs and melancholy. The deeply cherished scenery of the Nanmen River from days past has now completely changed. As a wanderer returning to seek the shadows of childhood in my hometown， many beautiful impressions from those years are now gone without a trace， and the thought of the once-clear Nanmen River now being so turbid feels like a wound， a fracture， a gap spreading in my heart. I remain silent， but tears are already welling up in my eyes. Ah， the old times， where have they flowed away to? How could they have disappeared and never return? How could they have vanished without a trace? Our mother river is suffering， ravaged by sand miners who have left her deeply scarred and bleeding murky blood， weakly moaning， and we owe her far too much. As children， everyone longed for distant places， for the lovely stars afar， but only after leaving did we realize that home is always the root.

The ancients said， “What is beautiful? The water of one’s own village. Who is kin? The people of one’s hometown.” Lately， I often dream of my mother and the Nanmen River of my hometown. In my dreams， the Nanmen River has regained its former glory， just as it was in my childhood: the three great banyan trees by the Nanmen River bank are still lush and shaded， the banks fragrant with rice flowers， birds chirping competitively， a scene brimming with life; the waters of the Nanmen River are still crystal clear， with fish and shrimp in abundance， singing their joyful song day and night， year after year， season after season， never ceasing， from spring to summer， from autumn to winter， forever and ever.

This book is the author’s latest collection of essays， including her essays about Guangdong customs， food and fireworks， and cultural celebrities. It is comprised of more than 30 essays.

Wang Guangfen

Wang Guangfen graduated from the Journalism Department of Jinan University. After graduation， he worked in Guangdong Radio and Television Station， and is now an employee of the editorial department of the news channel， loving prose and poetry.