Anecdotes About Sweaters

Written by Margaret Nie

English Translation by Christina

When I was young, we lived a very poor life. I remember that at primary school, we used the kerosene lamp. Back then, there was only one available, my brother and I tried hard to study under the dim light through the charred glass. My mother sat at a corner of the bed, holding needle and thread, either working on shoe soles or sweaters.

After decades, that scene still lingers in my head. Our bed was old style, a handmade, red-wooden structure with three sides of fence. That was my mother’s dowry. The two sides of the opening were engraved with patterns, the old, rude flowers. The carpenter’s skills were not as delicate. It adopted the mortise and tenon joint. The header was engraved with patterns, the details of which I can’t remember clearly. But what I do is that there was a footboard under the bed. I could make it to the bed with its help. My cousin said once she came to our home, seeing the little me laying on the footboard asleep, which made her feel sad.  

Back then, I was always jealous of the girls in my class wearing all sorts of sweaters. Because its diverse patterns best represented the craftsman’s skill and aesthetic level. Many classmates’ mothers were very good at knitting. At that time when supplies were scarce, females were mostly knitting professionals. They were able to make slippers, gloves, scarfs, sweaters and pants at home. I can’t remember how many sweaters my mother made me. During idle winters, women at countryside would sit together to make cotton shoes and sweaters, while my mother was not a skilled one. She sometimes took the needle to neighbours to learn how to knit, then started all over again back home.

One year, a few classmates gradually wore rainbow-coloured sweaters, which was made from mohair of seven colours, furry, bright and so beautiful. I cried to my mother to get one too, but she didn’t have enough money to get yarns of so many colours. Then she torn down my father’s brown pants, adding another colour, and roughly made me a dual-coloured sweater.

When I saw the completion, it didn’t have pretty patterns, neither bright colours. I felt it very ugly and didn’t even want to wear it in front of my classmates. When it was quite cold, I wore that piece inside plus a jacket outside to hide it, because it was barely worth of bragging about for an eight, night year old girl. I even wanted it to be worn out quickly so that I didn’t need to wear it any more.

Then I learnt to knit myself, gloves, scarfs, and even vests and sweaters. I also inherited my mother’s capability, starting all over again, without any satisfactory works.

When I was 18 years old, my fellow workers also loved to knit shoes and sweaters in winter. Some of them did it for boyfriends. I learnt to knit a sweater for my father. It had odd sleeves and smaller collar; anyway, I completed it. Then I brought it to him; my mother said he was very happy about it and talked to others about his girl being able to do that.

I knitted a pair of slippers for my mother, which was made from red yarns. It was also barely good; however, after over 10 years, it is still there back home. Then my mother bought a lot of slippers, while only this red one remains impressive.

With sweeping wind in autumn, cold becomes noticeable. This season in Shenzhen is always back and forth. It will get hot again once you think the autumn is already here. No matter how short autumn and winter are, I would always keep a cardigan sweater in my closet. It can be a good back-up in AC-ed rooms. Its softness is always next to the skin. To get a fashionable sweater is very easy nowadays, any style, any colour, any texture, hundreds of choices out there. But I know that it is impossible to go back to the days when every knitting held warmth. In that dim room, there was my mother knitting, my father bantering with my brother – should you not study well, I would buy you a cow to breed… 

and myself…