by Andrew Kwong
MAPS
courtesy of the author
courtesy of the author
DEDICATION
I dedicate this book, with much gratitude and love, to the memory of my Mama Wai-syn Young, and Baba Shek-tong Kwong, who endured the utmost pain as parents watching their family being torn apart, yet who, with fortitude, perseverance and amazing grace, ensured the family’s final reunion.
Also, with much appreciation, to the memory of Brother Casimir, Principal of La Salle College, Kowloon, Hong Kong, who gave me the courage I needed to navigate the world.
With all my love, to my children Serena, Harmony and Andrew-James. The love of a parent is forever.
And, last but not least, to my seven little Australians: Bruno, Louis, Clementine, Charlie, Fleur, Henry and Felix. For you are the reason I wrote this book.
EPIGRAPH
Classes struggle, some classes triumph,
others are eliminated.
Mao Tse-tung
CONTENTS
Maps
Dedication
Epigraph
Historical timeline
Prologue
Part I: By the Wonder River
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Part II: Snake Business
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Part III: Over the Carp Gate
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Part IV: Moonrise
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
Photo Section
About the Author
Praise
Copyright
HISTORICAL TIMELINE
1911 Sun Yat-sen leads overthrow of Qing dynasty
1912 Founding of the Republic of China
1921 Establishment of the Communist Party of China
1927 Beginning of Chinese Civil War between Communists and Nationalist government
1928 Chiang Kai-shek becomes leader of Nationalist government
1934 Communist forces escape Nationalist encirclement and undertake a 9000-kilometre retreat to northern China, the so-called Long March
1935 Mao Tse-tung becomes leader of the Communist Party
1937–45 Second Sino-Japanese War
1946 Resumption of Chinese Civil War
1949 Mao declares victory and founds the People’s Republic of China
1951–52 The Three-anti and Five-anti campaigns urge Chinese people to rid themselves of bourgeois, capitalist elements
1953–57 First Five-Year Plan begins modernisation and industrialisation of Chinese economy
1956 Hundred Flowers Campaign encourages citizens to express their opinions of the Communist regime
1957–59 Anti-Rightist Campaign initiates a purge of ‘Rightist’ (i.e. anti-communist) elements from society
1958–62 Second Five-Year Plan, or Great Leap Forward, Mao’s campaign to collectivise and industrialise the agrarian economy, leads to widespread famine and the deaths of millions
1958 Citizens encouraged to kill rats, mosquitoes, flies and sparrows under the Four Pests Campaign
1966 In Australia, Harold Holt’s government markedly reduces restrictions on non-European immigration
1966–76 The Cultural Revolution, aimed at further eliminating bourgeois elements from society, leads to mass persecution of intellectuals in China
1967 Pro-communist activists riot and plant bombs in Hong Kong
1971 China joins the United Nations
1972 US president Richard Nixon visits China
1973 In Australia, Gough Whitlam’s Labor government officially ends the White Australia policy
1976 Death of Mao Tse-tung
1978 Deng Xiaoping becomes head of Chinese government
1980 One Child Policy introduced in China
1989 Tiananmen Square Protests in Beijing lead to killing of hundreds of protestors by Chinese military; Australian prime minister Bob Hawke responds by granting asylum to 42,000 Chinese students living in Australia
PROLOGUE
Sixteenth Day, Third Lunar Month, 1894
In Shenmingting, a small town situated in the vast estuary of the Pearl River in Guangdong, my great-grandfather Fu-chiu awaits his bride. He strolls around the large courtyard of his ancestral home where more than twenty tables stand ready to seat relatives and distinguished guests. The tables and guests spread onto his cousin’s front yard next door.
Both houses have been splashed with a good coat of whitewash to conceal the ageing grey bricks of the otherwise handsome homes. Days before the happy occasion, the painters had been about to brush over the decorative panels beneath the eaves of the two houses when Fu-chiu’s father had intervened. ‘Stop,’ he’d shouted at them, aghast at their ignorance. ‘Leave them alone. Those are story panels.’ The panels depicted many Chinese legends that had captured the imaginations of past generations and would do the same for generations to come. He’d made sure they were safe before directing other servants and helpers who were putting the final touches to the wedding preparations.
On either side of the courtyard gates and at the back of the houses, incense sticks burn and paper money has been left out as offerings to the door-gods and other supernatural guardians who, in return, it is hoped, will protect the household. The offerings are also made to repel the ghosts that are said to wander constantly seeking souls to take their place in the spirit world and free them to be reborn and reach enlightenment. First and foremost, the aim is to ensure the smooth execution of the important day.
Fu-chiu mingles with the guests and, to ease his nerves, takes deep breaths of the abundant smoke lingering in the sweet-scented spring air. He turns back to look at the panels and is pleased his father chose to keep them, even though their colours have faded under the subtropical sky. Much to his delight, they break the sterile monotony of white paint, and preserve the vivacity of the life he has known. The image of the exuberant General Guan Gong on the panel depicting events from the fourteenth-century historical novel Romance of the Three Kingdoms is his favourite. How fondly he remembers the tale told to him by his father who, in turn, had been told it by his father. Such was Guan Gong’s courage and loyalty in leading the forces of Liu Ban, founder of one of the Three Kingdoms in the third century AD, that he later became not just a folk hero but a god for the Chinese people. From the panel, he seems to beam approval on the family’s important day. The tension eases inside Fu-chiu.
Because he has just turned twenty, the coming of age for Chinese men, it is fitting that Fu-chiu be married. He has never met his bride-to-be; he doesn’t even know her name. While he was away attending high school, the village go-between was arranging a suitable marital candidate for him under his father’s instruction. The process of choosing a wife has remained much the same since his ancestors arrived from the north. People do not marry someone from the same village in case the potential spouse is a descendant of shared forebears who fled the
onslaught of the mighty Mongol armies a thousand years earlier. The expertise of the go-between is important for her intimate knowledge of the many families in the surrounding area. Gossip, hearsay, facts, half-truths and, of course, family trees all help her to assess her clients’ backgrounds and ensure a good fit. When the go-between enters a match-making deal, her vivid and creative imagination, coupled with a keen sense of how well partners will suit each other, is put into play to ensure success. The bride-to-be must not only be obedient, attentive and devoted, but also beautiful, virtuous and able to produce healthy children. As for the potential groom, he should, of course, be handsome, intelligent and rich, and if he is not wealthy yet, he will be one day, as predicted by her fortune-telling skills.
Fu-chiu accepts this way of finding a wife but he is also a modern young man. A few years attending a progressive high school in the big city of Guangzhou has opened his mind to the possibilities of an expanding universe and life beyond the walls that surround his ancestral home. He now sports a smart Harris Tweed waistcoat over his traditional wedding gown of fine black linen, which reaches down to his shiny black shoes. Befittingly, atop his thick dark hair, tamed by imported hair cream, is a Western-style hat: a gift from his father’s cousin in San Francisco. Gone is his long pigtail, even though some young men in town still keep theirs. Instead of the traditional ball of red ribbons fashioned into a big round bouquet attached to the middle of his chest, he has a smart gold watch secured to the left pocket of his waistcoat; the matching chain trails from his top button in a gentle curve. He is a new type of groom in Shenmingting, a prosperous little town made wealthier still by money sent back by the sojourners, the many men who have left China to seek their fortunes in places such as California (known since the gold rush as the Old Gold Mountain) and Australia (the New Gold Mountain) – an exodus that has steadily increased since the defeats of the Opium Wars and the subsequent influx of traders telling tales of riches to be found overseas.
*
It is now well past the third hour after noon, the most auspicious hour for the wedding ceremony to begin. The soft sun above the courtyard has tilted to one side, losing much of its glare. Drums, gongs and trumpets that will herald the bridal procession from a thousand paces are silent. Fu-chiu glances at the long red strings of firecrackers that hang high on strong bamboo poles, ready to ignite. He takes his fob watch from his pocket, flicks open the golden cover and notes the late hour while reminding himself that patience is a virtue. Waves of murmuring begin to ebb and swirl among the guests, like the sounds of the receding tide in the nearby Qi-jiang, or Wonder River, one of the many tributaries that feeds into the Pearl River as it approaches the South China Sea. Perhaps it is best if a messenger is sent to find out what’s causing the delay.
The messenger soon returns with news. One of the two poles of the bridal sedan has snapped, and the bride has tumbled out. The silk scarf covering her face has flown off, exposing a sad maiden with full lips and features as pretty as the moon. Her red-and-gold wedding gown has been stained, and her dainty feet, so carefully bound for the past sixteen springs by her parents for her big day, have pushed through her fine embroidered wedding shoes. It is a sorry scene. Passers-by are shaking their heads in disbelief. The musicians have stopped playing, and the porters are too upset by the misfortune to carry on.
It is a bad omen. The chirpy sparrows flitting to and fro around the courtyard become still. The women of the family rush forward to burn more incense sticks to appease the door-gods and other guardian spirits. Children offer more paper money to pacify the wandering ghosts.
Fu-chiu, his father, the family elders and the go-between congregate in the inner room of the house. A decision is needed, immediately.
‘The wedding cannot go on,’ declares the most senior relative. The glow on his face has vanished. ‘It is not good for the family.’ He shakes his head and wipes away pearls of sweat that are rare on a fine spring day.
‘How do you feel about this?’ Fu-chiu’s father asks his son.
The trembling go-between lifts her head and shifts her gaze to the young man.
Fu-chiu feels the watch ticking in his pocket. Head down, he ponders his father’s question for a while, but the future of the maiden weighs more heavily on his mind than the embarrassment to the family. Still burdened by many rituals, traditions and superstitions, his world doesn’t seem to be changing fast enough.
‘Maybe this is not meant to be, my son,’ his father consoles him. ‘We have underestimated the might of ghostly forces. Perhaps we have angered our ancestors this spring. Barely thirteen nights after the Qingming, when we honour our departed ancestors, is perhaps the wrong day for a wedding, even though thirteen days would be perfect, for “three” means “life”.’
Fu-chiu raises his head and says quietly, ‘I am not superstitious like all of you.’
The noisy room falls silent, somewhat baffled by this calm rebellion.
‘It would be most unfair to the maiden if she were to be turned down now,’ Fu-chiu continues, looking past everyone in the room. ‘No one would ever marry a maiden who broke the bridal sedan pole, not even with her tiny, exquisite feet that the go-between has boasted about.’
The go-between stops quivering. Confidence creeps back into her face.
‘But the hour we chose for the ceremony has lapsed twice,’ his father points out, trying to appease the senior members of the family while feeling proud that his son has spoken.
‘Masters,’ says the go-between at once, touching her fingertips against her thumb in a quick calculation, ‘the hour following this one is the sixth. “Six” means “officialdom”. Wealth follows power.’ Her face beams, and she nods like a starving sparrow feeding on spilled grain. ‘It looks like this maiden is overloaded with fortune, so heavy that the pole . . .’ The go-between is grinning now, secure in the belief that her boundless imagination hasn’t failed her and that her reputation as the best go-between in Shenmingting is intact. She jumps eagerly to her bound feet and shuffles after Fu-chiu and his father, who are returning to the front of the house.
‘Bring on the firecrackers,’ father and son shout in unison.
Drums boom, trumpets blast, cymbals and gongs resonate. The town of Shenmingting erupts back into life.
Fu-chiu marries Loy-chuo, whose name means ‘wrong arrival’. Immediately after the wedding, the family changes her name to Loy-ho, or ‘good arrival’.
She goes on to bear five sons and two daughters. With so many children arriving, the family appreciates the blessings from the gods and ancestors of Shenmingting, even though Fu-chiu has not stopped pondering the possibilities of adventure beyond the town, perhaps even far from China. However, news of his cousin’s demise in the 1906 San Francisco earthquake and fire reminds him of the perils of foreign shores. Fate urges Fu-chiu to remain in Shenmingting and be content, despite the fact that a series of rebellions led by a local son, Sun Yat-sen, are beginning to shake the huge, rapidly declining Qing Empire.
My maternal grandfather, Dai-jun Young, the eldest in the growing family, is born and brought up during the turmoil of the last years of the Qing Dynasty. As a teenager, he witnesses the establishment of the Republic of China under Sun Yat-sen in 1912, ending four thousand years of Chinese imperialism. When he comes of age, he too is married with the assistance of a go-between. Working in the small family business that Fu-chiu established leaves Dai-jun little time to fathom the many social and political implications of the conflicts, upheavals and cultural confusion, brought on by new ideas both foreign and local, that are occurring all around him.
Meanwhile he watches ocean-going vessels sailing up and down the Pearl River, bringing foreigners and their strange goods and customs, and listens to the stories of the sojourners who have returned home to find a wife and settle down, and he can’t help but dream of what the world is like outside Shenmingting, outside China. One day in 1920, soon after my mother is born, he tells Fu-chiu, ‘I don’t want to stay around fat
hering more babies. I’m off to the Gold Mountain.’ He names my mother Wai-syn, ‘safe return’, after calling her older sister Wai-hung, or ‘safe journey’. In 1921, following in the footsteps of many Shenmingting men, he leaves for Hawaii as an indentured labourer. My mother is six months old.
Shenmingting prospers through the efforts of its many sojourners as the years go by, but much of China remains in poverty. Like my grandfather, many people from the Pearl River Delta leave for foreign lands in search of a better future and financial security for their families. They are spared the increasing chaos and bloodshed that follow: the Japanese invasion of China in the late 1930s, during which 35 million Chinese perish, and the brutal civil war between Nationalists and Communists that costs 10 million lives and leads to the founding of the People’s Republic of China (PRC) under Chairman Mao on 1 October 1949.
With the establishment of the PRC, peace finally arrives after more than fifty years of turmoil. Hopes for a normal life are high under Chairman Mao. Even though embargoes are promptly declared by the rest of the world against this latest communist state, Mao’s government makes many wonderful promises: there will be ample food for all, housing for the displaced millions, gender equality, free education, full employment, freedom in marriage – and it will restore much-needed national pride to the downtrodden Chinese people.
*
Into this new era of optimism and promises, I am born. We children are the bearers of hope, harmony and prosperity. Most importantly, we’re regarded as the future leaders of a stable and strong PRC, custodians of a peaceful life that has eluded past generations.
By the time the PRC is proclaimed, my parents have settled in Shiqi, a thriving administrative town in the county of Zhongshan, formerly known as Hongshan, or Fragrant Mountain, but renamed in 1925 in honour of Sun Yat-sen, who was known in Mandarin as Sun Zhongshan. The town is only a few kilometres east of Shenmingting and close to the South China Sea. Mama and Baba are proud and progressive university graduates, who trained as high-school teachers and met and fell in love while working in Hong Kong before the revolution. They’re ready and eager to help rebuild China. The thought of sojourning to goldfields overseas, returning to Hong Kong or moving to Portuguese Macau doesn’t enter their minds; indeed, to them, the colonies are now a national shame.