by May Q. Wong
The process entailed eight steps and took almost two years. The first step was for Ah Dang to submit a Declaration of Intention. The purpose of this was to show how and when he had arrived in Canada, list his trips back and forth to China, indicate identifying marks on his person, and provide information about his family. His signature on the form indicated his willingness to renounce any allegiance to any foreign sovereign or state. On May 25, 1949, the form was notarized by a justice of the peace. The declaration had to be accompanied by two other corroborating documents: a memo from a commissioner of the Immigration Branch, to confirm Ah Dang’s original date and port of entry into Canada, which took a month to be processed; and a confidential report by the Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP), which took two months. The RCMP conducted an investigation and interviews with Ah Dang, as well as with two “prominent British subjects” who vouched for the applicant and confirmed he was recognized as “being of good character.”
Not unlike banns for a marriage in some churches, the Canadian Citizenship Act required the declaration to be posted at the courthouse in a public and “conspicuous place” for three months. This was done starting August 25, 1949.
However, it was not until a year later, on August 8, 1950, that a Petition for Citizenship, in which the applicant “humbly prays” that a Certificate of Citizenship be issued to him and to his minor children, was granted by Judge J.G. Magnan. Ten days later, the petition, attesting to the fact that Ah Dang was “a fit and proper person to be naturalized,” was forwarded to the Minister of Citizenship and Immigration for a final decision. Approval by the Registrar of Canadian Citizenship was granted on November 26, 1950. On January 26, 1951, Ah Dang finally became a Canadian citizen, swearing true allegiance to His Majesty King George the Sixth.
• • •
By the 1950s, Montreal was bustling, becoming the country’s financial centre. Quebec was attracting workers to its growing industrial sector. In the latter half of the decade many in the Chinese community were bringing their wives and children, so the province’s Chinese population rose from 1,904 to 4,794, most of it concentrated in Montreal.
When Ah Dang was in China, he had listened to the locals and the townsfolk discussing the civil war. While he was careful about what he said, to whom he said it, and within whose hearing he spoke, he gained enough information to make a choice. He had been a strong supporter of Dr. Sun Yat-sen and the Kuomintang Party, and although he had not joined any political associations in the Chinatowns of Canada, he had purchased bonds and donated to the local KMT chapter. But he was outraged when, soon after the Japanese surrender in 1945, General Jiang had used Japanese soldiers to fight the Communists. That action had made him stop donating to the KMT Party.
When Ah Dang had last been in China, he had seen the widespread corruption and carpet-bagging greediness of KMT officials. In seeking a solution to his children’s immigration situation, he had given the suggested bribes, but still, nothing had happened. The KMT’s economic policies, intended to curb runaway inflation, were disastrous. In 1937, a hundred yuan could purchase two oxen; by 1949, it could buy only a sheet of paper. In 1948, when the KMT attempted a currency reform measure to create the “gold yuan,” prices rose eighty-five thousand times within a six-month period. Ah Dang held little hope for a continuing government under the KMT.
He could have stayed neutral, for he had chosen Canada as his country, but he had to safeguard his family in China, in case, for whatever unthinkable reason, they could never join him. He decided to learn more about the Communists for himself, so, on his last trip, he had attended some of Ah Thloo’s meetings and work parties.
Ah Thloo had told him how different the Communists were from any other soldiers who had come through the countryside, hardworking and helpful. Ah Thloo introduced him to some of the Communist soldiers. As they did not wear uniforms, but the same clothes as the locals, it was at first hard to distinguish them. However, as Ah Dang watched, he noticed an aura of authority about them, indicating training and discipline. They looked genuine to him.
Having been a victim of the peasant feudal system, he could see the positive intent of, and benefits being produced by, the land reform program. By sharing tools, seed, and labour, his family and neighbours also shared in the diversity of the harvests. Perhaps China had a future with the Chinese Communist Party in government. He made his first donation to the CCP before he left China.
Back in Canada, Ah Dang followed the progress of the Communist People’s Liberation Army in the civil war. Significant battles continued in key locations, including Beijing, Nanjing, the KMT capital, and Chengdu, to which Jiang retreated after resigning as president of China on January 21, 1949. On October 1, 1949, Mao Zedong proclaimed the founding of the People’s Republic of China. On December 10, 1949, Jiang left China for Taiwan.
Following the formation of the People’s Republic of China, the Chinese newspapers reported that many well-to-do citizens were fleeing to Hong Kong and Macau, where living conditions were far from ideal. Relatives in foreign countries feared that China’s new collectivist principles meant that much-needed remittances would be confiscated, but Ah Dang did not have to worry on that account. He had left Ah Thloo the bulk of his savings, and he knew she would keep the money safe and spend it wisely. But he needed her and their children here. Armed with his new citizenship rights, he set about bringing his family to Canada.
• • •
AH THLOO: CHINA, 1949–1952
The war is over! Have you heard—the war is over?! The joyous cries were almost as ubiquitous as the greeting “Have you eaten rice yet?” Especially in Tiananmen Square.
Built during the Ming Dynasty, Tiananmen, the Gate of Heavenly Peace, is where imperial edicts were issued or announcements of great import made. On October 1, 1949, Mao Zedong stood on the viewing balcony of the gate to hoist up the new flag of China—five gold stars on a sea of red—and declared the founding of the People’s Republic of China. Below, on the square, thousands of people cheered, waving banners, lanterns, and scarves. Beijing was once again the capital.
Earlier that day, Mao was appointed chairman of both the Central People’s Government and the People’s Revolutionary Military Committee. Zhou Enlai was appointed premier of the Central People’s Government Council and minister of foreign affairs.
In most parts of the country, a collective sigh was exhaled; outright battles would now stop. However, pockets of resistance by KMT forces and their sympathizers would continue to be a problem for the next few years.
From 1949 to 1952, the Central People’s Government concentrated on rehabilitating the national economy. The state seized control of everything. Private businesses were condemned, and their owners, if they had not managed to flee the country, were in jeopardy. The state took over customs, banks, mines, factories, and transportation systems. Inflation was brought under control. Supplies of basic necessities, such as food, cotton, cloth, coal, and salt, and staples such as grain and seed were all centralized. Transportation systems, including railways, shipping lines, and roads, were revived.
More importantly in the countryside, the government took over all the land and private property. Landlords, considered corrupt and a bane to peasants, were stripped of their wealth and persecuted. Although Ah Thloo and her parents had owned land, they had worked it and not leased it to others, so they were not considered landlords.
In fact, Ah Thloo worked on the land redistribution project, helping to ensure that landless tenants and the poorest peasants gained the most while absentee landlords lost the most. Groups of poor peasants gathered together to celebrate the burning of their rental bills, which had been charged in produce and disguised as taxes and duties. By 1952, more than three hundred million peasants had received forty million hectares of land and were exempted from rents of more than thirty-five billion kilograms of grain.
It is not now known how much land Ah Thloo and her family received in the redistribution, but it was soon irrelevant. B
y then, Ah Lai had returned to school, this time to a boarding school. Soon afterwards, her family experienced a drastic shift.
Chinese war bond.
And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.
For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.
And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying,
Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.
—Luke 2:10-11, 13-14
TEN
First Christmas
AH THLOO: ALASKA, DECEMBER 24, 1954
The airplane meal was distributed not long after the flight took off from Alaska. Ah Thloo did not recognize any of the food: there was some kind of dry white meat, a mound of white, mushy starch, some green peas, and a spoonful of red sauce, and covering everything was a grey-brown sauce. No rice. She tasted a bit of everything and found it was “edible—but only just,” as Ah Tew May used to say about all of Ah Thloo’s cooking. It was very bland, except for the red sauce, which she anticipated might be spicy but turned out to be sweet.
After the meal, the stewardesses gave everyone a small gift wrapped in bright, festive paper. Ah Wei got a toy, and Ah Thloo thought, What a nice way to welcome us to Canada!
• • •
AH THLOO: CHINA AND HONG KONG, 1953–1954
It took some time for Ah Thloo to decide if she wanted to uproot herself and her family to start life anew in an alien environment. In China, she had established an independent life—quite an accomplishment for a woman. She had had to make life-and-death decisions; her family had remained intact and had survived famine, bandits, war, and revolution through her efforts. More recently, she was engaged in important work to improve the economic life of the community. People sought her opinions and her help; she had become a leader.
By 1953, she and Ah Dang had been married for almost a quarter-century, but they had spent less than five years together, much of it in conflict. Who would look forward to more of the same? However, she had to admit that he had tried harder than any other Gim San law she knew of to send money.
It was something in the first letter she received after the revolution that clinched her decision. Ah Dang told her he had received his citizenship, and could now legally apply for her and the children to go to Canada. He had told her he could not apply for his mother: Canada would not let her into the country. He also wrote, “Ah Thloo, you are my second life. I cannot go on without you.” Finally, he had written her some hiem wa, sweet words. Perhaps he had changed.
She showed the letter to her daughter. Ah Lai had known for a long time of her father’s wish for the family to join him in Canada. With his citizenship it was now possible and the declaration of love was making it more of a reality.
Ah Thloo felt it would be cruel to tell Ah Ngange (as she called her mother-in-law, now) that she had not been invited, but the older woman refused to go anyway, claiming, “I am seventy years old, too old to survive the long trip. I wouldn’t last a day living in the country of faan guey law, foreign devils! I’m staying here. I’ll die in my own home.”
She had never spoken out against her son’s wishes and his right to have his children join him in Canada. Ah Thloo knew Ah Ngange loved the children, and that the feelings were mutual. From a distance, she had watched them together; the older woman’s voice became affectionate and she actually smiled when she was with them. As a child, Ah Lai had always run to Ah Ngange first when she came in from playing outdoors, and it was no different now. When she came home from boarding school or if she was upset, she sought solace from Ah Ngange first, then perhaps practical advice from Ah Thloo. Ah Wei, ever watchful of his sister’s actions, followed suit.
While Ah Thloo had always envied their relationship, she was grateful for her mother-in-law’s help in raising the children, and she was surprised but relieved when the older woman so adamantly refused to join them in going to Canada. In her own heart, Ah Thloo nursed a hope that perhaps away from Ah Ngange, she and the children could seal the gap between them.
They were all about to leave the village for the city of Guangzhou when Ah Lai went to her mother in tears. Ah Thloo thought she was feeling sad at having to leave Ah Ngange; she knew they were very close, but she didn’t know how devoted until then.
“Ma-ma, please do not be angry at me for what I’m about to say.”
“Ah Nui, what is it? You can tell me anything.”
“I don’t want to go to Canada.”
“Don’t be afraid. I know things will be different. But I promise, we’ll be together. I’ll spend more time with you.”
“It’s not that.”
“What’s the issue, then? You’re still too young. How can I leave you behind?”
“Ma-ma, I’m eighteen years old. At this age you were married to Ah Yea.”
“We are not talking about me. Times were different then.”
“You know I want to marry Ah Haw One.”
“Ah Yea should choose a husband for you!”
“I don’t believe in that old-fashioned practice of blind marriage, and neither do you!”
This was true enough. Having been a victim of such a union, Ah Thloo had been actively promoting women’s rights since the revolution, but she wasn’t going to let her daughter catch her with that argument. However, she had met Ah Haw One many times and tacitly approved of her daughter’s choice. She had worked with his mother on some of her committees, so she knew something of his background. His father was also a sojourner, to Southeast Asia.
“In Canada, life will be better. There’re no famines or droughts, no food shortages.”
Ah Ngange and Ah Lai, 1956.
UNKNOWN PHOTOGRAPHY STUDIO, CHINA
“How can life be better in a country that hates us? It has kept our family apart! In the four years since Gai Fong, our own lives have improved here. The murderous Japanese have been defeated. The warlords who roamed the country raping the land have been executed. Landlords no longer hold all the wealth in their corrupt hands. The people, peasants like us who work the land, now have rights and power.”
It was a long speech, like something the girl had practised for a school recital. It reminded Ah Thloo of the long passages she had had to memorize during her few years at school. Inwardly, she agreed with everything her daughter had said and was proud that the girl had learned her history so well.
Ah Lai continued, her words tumbling out faster and faster, like hot pebbles burning her tongue. “I’ve just been accepted into college. I’ve worked to stay in first or second place at school! I can get a good education here. I want to help rebuild my country. This isn’t the right time for me to leave! I can’t even speak the language in Canada, and I’ll be too old to start school all over again. My little brother will have his chance. You must go for his sake.”
It was obvious her daughter had thought hard about this, and Ah Thloo could not find any fault in her reasoning. She was right: for four-year-old Ah Wei, everything was still new and no matter where he lived, he would adapt. He would also grow up living with his father, important for a boy.
Finally, Ah Lai said, “Also, there is Ah Ngange. It will break her heart to have her grandson taken away from her. I think she still needs me.” Ah Thloo understood that her daughter had chosen Ah Ngange over her. It must have been as hard to say as it was to hear, but the decision had been made, and was to have long-term consequences.
After their discussion, Ah Thloo cried herself to sleep every night. Ah Lai was away at school. When she came home on the weekends, Ah Thloo acted as if everything was back to normal and never again brought up the subject of going to Canada.
Ah Thloo made plans to go to Guangzhou, where the Chinese emigration offices were located. She did not know how long it would take for the government to grant her and her son leave to emigrate, but Ah Dang had told her to anticipate
a long wait, both in various offices, where she had to be interviewed in person, and between meetings, while decisions were being pondered.
Ah Dang had sent money to buy goods in the city, so Ah Thloo packed only what she could carry in one suitcase. There wasn’t much from their lives in their home village that would be useful in Canada anyway. She took a change of clothing, the least faded and tattered of their belongings; they had been patched so often that even she couldn’t tell what colour the original fabric had been.
She left all of the bed coverings she had so carefully embroidered for her wedding. Although they had been cleaned and stored away with mothballs, after almost a quarter-century, they too had inevitable stains and holes. Besides, they were too bulky to carry. Nothing from the kitchen either, except for their ivory chopsticks. Ah Ngange would need everything else.
Ah Thloo had let the neighbours know of their intention to leave, if not the exact date. Every family had had members leave, so it was not an unusual event. Still, everyone loved sweet little Ah Wei, and Ah Thloo’s contributions to the county were well recognized; they would both be missed. Each neighbour family came to the house to say goodbye with gifts—folded paper packages of loose tea or herbs, trinkets for her son—and letters to their overseas relatives to be sent from Hong Kong.
Some of them, like her neighbour, Ah Chiang Hoo, would themselves be going to Montreal, so they would meet again there. Still, it was hard to say goodbye. Ah Thloo nodded when the families told her they would look after Ah Ngange, although she thought it more likely the old woman would be looking after them. She wasn’t the person for whom Ah Thloo’s heart was as heavy as a bushel of damp grain.