The Unbending Spirit of “Big Cannon and Small Cannon”
Latest blogs
Scan to Follow
- April 30, 2025
- 6:38 am
Hey there! My name is Big Cannon and Small Cannon, and yes — I was once quite the star.
I’m made of two sturdy wooden poles, each as thick as a bowl. The longer one is called Big Cannon, the shorter one Small Cannon. Iron rings and chains link us together. I’ve been lying quietly behind this glass case for decades now, my metal rusted, my wood darkened with age.
Visitors often stop and ask, “What were these used for? And why such a fierce name?”
I smile silently. After all, few people today know that I was born in Lin County, created by the workers themselves during the construction of the legendary Red Flag Canal in the 1960s.
A Tool Forged by Need
Back then, Lin County was poor and mountainous. To build the aqueducts and stone arches of the Red Flag Canal, workers needed to move huge blocks of stone — each one long, wide, and impossibly heavy. There were no cranes, no forklifts, and even if there had been, they couldn’t climb the narrow trails of the Taihang Mountains.
So the people relied on something stronger than machines: their unity and ingenuity.
When two men couldn’t lift a stone, four tried. When four couldn’t, eight joined in. And that’s where I came in — a simple, handmade lever of survival.
Don’t be fooled by my rough shape. I was crafted carefully, chosen for my tough grain and solid core. The team leader ran his hand along my wooden scars and said, “This one’s got bones of steel.” Then they fitted me with iron rings and chains, making sure I could bear the full weight of the mountain stones.
Carrying More Than Stone
When the work songs echoed through the valley, I carried the stones — or rather, they carried me, with the stones resting across my shoulders. Dozens of strong young men, their backs bent and faces shining with sweat, marched step by step up the rocky slope. Their arms trembled, their shirts soaked, but no one complained, no one stopped.
Every rock they carried brought the dream of the Red Flag Canal a little closer to reality.
Years passed. My wood has warped, my chains rusted. But the spirit of those workers — their songs, their sweat, their unyielding determination — still lingers deep within my grain.
The Weight of a Dream
Last autumn, a little girl stared at the grooves in my wood and whispered,
“Mom, how heavy do you think this old stick could lift?”
Her mother smiled and said,
“When people work together, nothing is too heavy. Even half a mountain can be lifted.”
And that, my friend, is exactly what we did.
The Red Flag Canal was not just carved into rock — it was carved into the hearts of the people of Lin County. And I, the humble Big Cannon and Small Cannon, will forever remember the day when ordinary hands achieved an extraordinary miracle.
