by Zoë S. Roy
They jumped out of the ditch to cross Defence Road and scampered along the shore to the reef, where they found a boat camouflaged with seaweed. Nina pulled away the seaweed as Rei cut the mooring rope. As they climbed into the boat, the blinking lights far across the sea beckoned to them.
“Be sure your wallet remains tied to your waist,” Rei said as he dipped the oars into the water. “How’s your basketball? Is it securely tied?”
“It’s in the right place,” answered Nina, sitting across from him at the other end of the boat. Her hands were clasped tightly around the ball strapped around her waist. Her voice quavered with fear. “What should I do?”
“Keep an eye open for anything suspicious.” Rei propelled the boat smoothly and glided toward the east.
The sky darkened, and the oars creaked occasionally. About twenty minutes later, they could see the faintly-lit sky over the New Territories of Hong Kong, and Nina could feel the pounding of her heart slow down as she regained control of her edgy nerves.
Suddenly, an engine rumbled from the northeast. Nina felt her limbs suddenly go weak. “An army patrol boat is coming straight at us,” she gasped. Rei’s arms pulled the oars through the water as fast as they could muster.
The sound of the engine grew louder, indicating that a boat was speeding toward them. “What are we going to do?” asked Nina, panicked.
“Push the ball onto your back now, drop into the water, and then swim east. That’s Starling Inlet over there,” Rei said, pointing. Then he stopped rowing. “Hurry!”
Nina felt her body stiffen as she dropped into the water. She swallowed a mouthful of water and choked, but with Rei’s voice echoing in her ears, she forced herself to propel her arms through the water in the direction he had pointed to. Turning her head slightly, she noticed Rei’s rowboat moving in the opposite direction and heard the engine rattle away. Nina ploughed through the water until she touched several reeds on shore.
Bang! Bang! Shots erupted in the distance. She shivered and knelt into the sand. A chill spread through her limbs. Her eyes wide open, she peered into the dark, but could see nothing. Darkness blanketed the water and engulfed Rei’s boat and the terrifying sound of the engine.
Nina wiped the water from her face and listened carefully but heard nothing suspicious. She detached the netted basketball and plodded through the reeds. Is Rei dead or alive?
As she staggered to the weedy shore, it began to rain. She waded through mud and bushes and darkness for what seemed like forever. About a hundred metres away several scattered houses loomed ahead of her, and she shuffled over to one of them. The rain was pouring heavily by the time she reached some kind of wall. Just as she was about to lean her weary body against the wall, a huge dog darted out from a corner and jumped on her, growling and angry.
“My God!” Nina’s shriek held the dog back only momentarily; it flinched and then attacked her again. She stooped, groping at the ground with shaking hands. Before she could grab a rock, she saw a faint flash of fangs and felt the dog bite her leg. She screamed as she grasped the rock and hit the dog’s head with all her might.
The attacker finally yelped and galloped away, its tail drooping. Nina touched her leg and felt the warmth of her sticky blood mixing with the cool rain. Then she collapsed.
“Momma!” a child’s voice called out. “She’s moving!”
Nina slowly opened her eyes. She found herself lying on a low bed in a strange room with a little boy staring into her face. She blinked hard and tried to remember what had happened.
“Don’t be afraid.” A woman in her thirties, with a bowl in her hand, walked over to Nina. “Did you slip through the border?”
Before Nina could respond, the woman continued, “Last night, I heard a dog barking and then somebody shrieking. I rushed out and found you lying on the ground.”
Nina sat up and felt a pain in her left leg. She lifted the sheet draped over her leg and saw a bandage wrapped tightly around her calf, which triggered the memory of the dog’s assault. Looking up the woman, Nina asked, “Did you bandage my leg?”
The woman nodded.
“Where am I?”
“We’re near Wu Kau Tang Village,” answered the woman, as she sat down on a chair next to the bed.
“Is this your home?”
“Yes,” said the woman. “Me and my husband escaped the Mainland two years ago. Now he works on an oyster farm.” She handed a bowl, with a spoon, to Nina. “You must be starving. Have some congee.”
Nina took the bowl gratefully. The warmth of the congee spread to her heart, which was still heavy with last night’s nightmare. She burst into tears. What’s happened to Rei? How is Dahai?
“Don’t weep.” The woman patted her shoulder. “You’ll feel better after you eat.”
“Thank you for helping me,” Nina said, wiping away her tears. “What should I call you?”
“Everybody calls me ‘Gui’s Wife’ or ‘Gui’s,’ because my husband’s family name is Gui.”
Nina nodded, aware that in the rural areas of her homeland it was customary to address a married woman by her husband’s name. A married woman belonged to her husband.
“My name’s Nina,” she told Gui’s Wife.
“That’s a strange name.”
“Yes, it’s Russian.”
“You city people are always funny. Aren’t you afraid of being called a ‘running dog’? The radio is always critical of the Russians.”
“When my parents named me, the Soviet Union was our fraternal country,” Nina said. She knew that since the Sino-Soviet split, the Chinese media was critical of the Russians as modern revisionists driving home the point that the Soviet Union was now China’s enemy, even though many people, including herself, did not really understand what being a Russian revisionist meant.
Nina spooned the congee into her mouth, devouring it as she had not eaten a home-cooked meal since she had gone to live on the military farm. The pork congee tasted salty and sweet and was full of Chinese cabbage and lotus root.
Seeing Nina gulp the food, Gui’s Wife asked with a chuckle, “Want another bowl?”
“Yes, please. It’s delicious.”
“Momma, I want a bowl of congee,” said the boy.
“Go and get it yourself, Bean.” The mother smiled.
Nina felt better after she swallowed her second serving. No longer dizzy, she was eager to get out of bed. “Where’re my jacket and pants?”
“Not dry yet. Try mine,” said Gui’s Wife as she pulled a blouse and a pair of slacks out of a closet.
“You are very kind,” said Nina hugging the clothes to her chest. “Do you know how to get to the Office of the Residents’ Affairs?”
“You’ll have to ask Gui when he comes home. Don’t worry; you’ll get a resident card. The Hong Kong government is kind. Why don’t you get dressed now and join me in the kitchen.”
Nina took a few steps and was thankful that the pain from the bite was bearable. She pulled on the baggy clothes and peered around the door. “Gui’s Wife, can I help you with anything?”
“My goodness!” Gui’s Wife slapped her thigh, a broad grin lighting up her face. “I forgot I was hanging kelp.”
Nina followed her into a walled yard. Numerous pieces of half-dried kelp hung on bamboo sticks across the low walls, waving in the breeze that blew in salty air from the ocean. Gui’s Wife stooped over a vat to pick up kelp, piece by piece, and along with her, Nina hung the kelp on available bamboo sticks. With a deep breath, Nina felt the sea again, and its familiar odour aroused more memories.
Five-year-old Nina enjoyed ambling on the beach with her mother, where she had gathered seashells and colourful pebbles into the toy bucket she carried. She spied sails on the choppy sea and thought about her father, who was always busy working on a naval base in Hainan Province, and who only returned home once or twice a
month. She wondered which one was her father’s navy vessel and asked, “When will Daddy come home?”
“Perhaps in a week,” answered her mother. “Someday, we’ll let you see what a navy vessel looks like.”
“It must be big. Like this?” Little Nina tilted her head, and her arms stretched widely toward the far-away sails. The pail in her hand fell, spilling the shells and pebbles all over the sand.
“Much bigger,” answered her mother, with a wide smile on her face. She helped refill Nina’s pail. “You’ll see.”
Nina did not see her father often, let alone his vessel. She was ten when she finally got the long-awaited opportunity to visit her father on the vessel along with her mother.
Nina climbed with her parents on a warship anchored at a military port. The ship looked like a three-storey building floating over the water. Together, they had a seafood meal in a light blue dining hall. Nina imagined the table would shake if the currents pushed the ship, so she jumped hard on the floor, but nothing budged.
After supper, the family strolled along a path in the compound. Holding her mother’s hand on one side and her father’s on the other, Nina bounced along, kicking up tiny rocks with joy. She raised her head to look at a number of dark green, basketball-sized objects in the high palm trees. “My heavens, what are those balls?”
Amused by her old-fashioned exclamation, her father laughed out loud. “Oh, my silly girl. They’re coconuts.”
“But I’ve never seen big coconuts like these.” She pulled at her father’s hand.
“Nina, take a break.” Gui’s Wife’s loud voice called her back to the present. Nina turned around, found the vat empty, and all the kelp already on the sticks. Back in the kitchen, Gui’s Wife brewed a pot of herbal tea.
“Are you hot?” Gui’s Wife asked as she soaked the tea pot in a basin of cold water. “In ten minutes, we’ll drink cold tea. It’s really good.”
“You work really hard.”
“I learned to do all kinds of chores as a little girl. Kids in the country start working early, not like city kids.”
“I didn’t learn about the hard life of farmers until I lived on the military farm.”
“Tea’s ready.” Gui’s Wife handed a tall glass to Nina. “Let’s forget the past. We have a better life here. When Gui comes home, you can ask him anything you want about Hong Kong.”
The following day, Nina went into town with the family. Gui was about forty years old. His suntanned skin indicated he worked outdoors. He sat with his son on the bus, and Nina sat with his wife. When the boy became excited about the view, a satisfied smile filled the deep creases at the corners of Gui’s eyes. As soon as they arrived downtown, Gui led Nina to the Office of the Residents’ Affairs while his wife took their son to a department store. By the time they met again, Nina had received her resident card, and Gui had bought himself rubber boots, his wife her favourite floral cloth, and Bean, a toy gun.
Gui’s family offered her a room and Nina decided to stay.
Two days later, Nina visited the American Consulate on Garden Street and requested an application for political asylum. On the same trip, she bought a Chinese-English dictionary from a bookstore. With the help of the dictionary, she worked on the application form and filled it out with the following information:
Applicant: Nina Huang, born in 1949. Student, 1956-68. Thought reform on the Number Five Military Farm, 1968-1969. Arrived in Hong Kong on August 28, 1969.
Father: Jim Huang, born in 1924. Studied at the U.S. West Point Academy, 1946-48. Returned to China and worked in the Nationalist Army, 1948-1949. Joined the People’s Liberation Army in 1949. Served in the Chinese Navy, 1955-1966. Persecuted because of his training in the U.S. and died in October 1966.
Mother: Min Liao, born in 1925. Medical doctor at Guangzhou Children’s Hospital, 1950-1967. The May Seventh Cadre School, 1967-69. Under house arrest, 1969-present.
She attached two additional pages describing why she was applying for political asylum and then sent the package by registered mail.
During the week, Nina helped Gui’s Wife pick kelp on the beach. The collected kelp was then dried in the yard, and later, packed and stored. Every other week, Gui’s Wife sold the kelp packages to a vendor. In the evening, Nina taught Bean how to read and write.
Several weeks later, she returned to the American Consulate for an interview.
She had written to Rei’s grandmother in Guangzhou to ask about Rei but she had not heard back. Her letter may have been intercepted or Rei’s grandmother may not have dared answer. The word “death” haunted her so much that she could not help but sob. Gui’s Wife would pat her shoulder and say in a tender voice, “Crying is no help.” But she wept along with Nina, wiping her tears with the corner of her apron.
Often, Nina wondered about Dahai. How would he be punished if caught crossing the border? Has he gotten to Vietnam? The questions were like worms eating away at her heart. She felt hollow, but she could not contact Dahai or Zeng for answers. Any letter from outside of China, to either of them, would create suspicion and cause problems for them. All she could do was pray that Dahai and Rei had survived.
Nina began to follow the Voice of America’s “English 900” program on the radio. Listening to the English conversations provided her with glimpses into American society and culture. She imagined her future and felt happy. She would not be forced to read Mao’s or anybody else’s works; she would not be afraid of expressing a different opinion; she would not be judged by her family background and be regarded as the offspring of the revolution’s enemies. She would have the right to make choices in her own life.
When, six months later, a package arrived from the American Consulate, Nina opened it with trembling hands. She had been granted a visa to enter the United States. The visa stamp showed March 17, 1970, as the entry date into the United States. Relieved, Nina could not keep her hand, which held her passport, from shaking.
“Don’t go. Those blue-eyed and high-nosed people are scary.” Gui’s Wife pleaded. “Stay here, with us.”
Nina raised her head and looked deeply into Gui’s Wife’s eyes, knowing with certainty that she could not stay. The green sheet of the paper that had unfolded in front of her, granting her asylum, looked shiny, as if a sparkling star had emerged in a starless sky.
“Don’t worry about me,” Nina said.
She gazed at the visa and wished someday, somewhere, that she might meet Dahai again.
3.
DEAR UNCLE SAM
ON A SUNNY AFTERNOON in March 1970, a Pan Am airliner landed at Augusta State Airport in Maine. The land of freedom and opportunity, Nina thought as she stepped onto Uncle Sam’s soil. A carry-on bag in her hand, she walked among the passengers to the baggage carousel. She looked around, her face beaming with excitement even though she felt groggy after the twenty-hour journey.
She finally spied her suitcase. It was navy blue canvas with white stripes, colours she enjoyed because they reminded her of her father’s uniform. She pulled it from the carousel and placed it and her satchel in a buggy, then pushed it to the nearest exit. The interpreter at San Francisco International Airport’s Customs Office had said that someone from the Catholic Church Refugee Settlement in Brunswick, Maine, would meet her. The image of a nun in a traditional habit, her solemn face under a white coif covered by a black scarf like she had seen in the movies, crossed her mind.
She eyed the crowd around her as she moved her buggy. She passed two young men in black suit jackets and noticed that one of them was looking at her intently. Her eyes met his and then widened as she saw her name printed in Chinese on his placard. Before she could say anything, the other young man turned to her and asked in fluent Chinese, “Are you Nina Huang?”
“Yes,” she answered, very surprised to hear the familiar Chinese words from a Caucasian man here in America. “Are you from the Church Refugee Settl
ement?” she asked.
“Yes, I’m Jim. I’m here to help with translating,” he replied, turning to his companion. “And this is George.”
George shook hands with Nina and took her buggy. “Follow us. We’ll drive you to your host family.” He led them out of the airport and into a parking garage.
Nina tried to speak in English, but some words became Chinese. Jim translated for her: “I’m surprised to see snow in spring!”
George, in English, and Jim, in Chinese, replied at the same time, “I’m surprised to see you without a coat.”
Nina chuckled with them as the three settled into a dark blue Ford and George pulled the vehicle onto Interstate 95. Nina looked out the window from her back seat. Pine and spruce trees lined the road. Half-melted snow banks on the road’s shoulder glistened in the sunlight. George talked about the services of the Church Refugee Settlement, while Jim interpreted for Nina. “Mr. and Mrs. Duncan are your host family. Mr. Duncan is a veteran, and his wife, a retired schoolteacher. They volunteer with the Settlement and are willing to accommodate you for free.” Jim told Nina that if she needed translation services in the future, she could ask for this at the office where they were going.
Two hours later, they arrived at the building that housed the Catholic Church Refugee Settlement in Brunswick.
George led them inside an office where an American couple in their sixties sat on a bench waiting. “This is Mr. and Mrs. Duncan.” George introduced Nina to the couple and then wished her good luck. Nina thanked George and Jim as they turned to leave, then approached the couple.
The woman smiled and said, “You can call me Eileen and him Bruce.” Nina was surprised that they would invite her to call them by their first names. In China, it was customary to call a couple of her parents’ generation, “aunt” and “uncle,” or address them by their title and family name, as a gesture of respect. Nina smiled back. Calling them by their first names makes me equal to them, like we’re friends. Maybe this is the equal spirit of Americans. With Eileen’s help, Nina filled out the necessary forms, handed them to the secretary at the desk, and then followed the couple to their car.