‘Tso shan? You mean good morning?’ he questioned.
‘Yes, that is what I said, Tso shan.’
‘That, my dear cousin, is weak attempt at speaking Chinese,’ he said in a bad imitation of an English accent and tugging my queue. I should have heard the joking way he said this but I didn’t. As soon as he said those words I turned around. I glared down at him, and did something that I deeply regret. Mother and Father will be so disappointed with me. I have never done anything like this before. I do not know from where inside me this rage emerged but I hit my cousin with such force in the stomach that for a moment I thought that he would not breathe. I quickly ran ahead, up the hill. Then, I did not know why I hit him, now I know.
In my mind I was walking to school with Mee Sing, not my cousin. I was hearing his words over and over again teasing me about going to China, about Chinese lessons with my cousin, about learning the Chinese culture, about my queue. ‘None of that makes you Chinese. You can only ever be part Chinese, not real Chinese.’
Why did he say these words? I do not know but they were still spinning around in my head. I know that my cousin was only joking at my poor Chinese. We had often joked about it when we were together. That’s why he helped me learn the words and phrases but yesterday’s words have been caught in my head.
From the hill I saw my cousin bend over and immediately I was feeling great remorse. I dropped my bags there on the hill and rushed back to my cousin’s side. I begged his forgiveness. I begged him not to tell our parents. I apologised for my shameful behaviour. ‘What can I do to repay you?’
He said nothing. I waited in silence there by his side till he could once again breathe easily. I carried both our bags as we climbed the hill to our schools. Then my cousin turned to me and he apologised for teasing me about my poor Chinese and offered to work harder with me. I thanked him but I felt even worse.
‘And maybe for the week you can carry my bags as payment,’ he said to me with a smile in his eyes and a thump on my arm that was just a little too hard.
Saturday, 8 August
Father says that it would be very beneficial if there were Chinese schools where children like his, Australian-born Chinese children (actually half-Chinese) could attend and learn to speak the Chinese language, read the scripts and learn the Chinese culture. If this happens then I would not have to go to China.
But now I have more school. Father has decided that he will spend part of each Saturday with me. We are studying the Tung Wah Times—no one studies newspapers! He says this will help me read as well as speak the Chinese language. My sisters escape this school. That’s so unfair. While the rest of the family have enjoyable Saturday mornings I attend Chinese school!
My sisters sniggered when Father announced this at breakfast. They stopped as soon as he told them that they would also begin classes, when it was their turn. He already had the paper open for me when I went to the counter to begin my chores. School began instead. I sat on the stool and pointed to Father the characters that I could already read. I picked out the numbers and some of the days. I am not sure if Father is pleased with what I know or displeased with what I don’t recognise. He pointed to characters in the paper and then drew each of them into squares on the paper. I had to copy them and then write the English sound of the word and the meaning! This is tedious, worse than lessons at school. At least I know what I am reading at school.
Mother came into the store smiling and asked how her Chinese student was and whether I was perfecting the characters. I looked at her with a sour face but did not answer.
‘Never fear Edward. Chinese is a hard language to speak, let alone to write. Practise with your father. This is good.’ When she said ‘this is good’ it could have been Father using those words.
I don’t remember much of what we read. There was an article on some Chinese men; three were arrested for gambling. I remember this because Father talked about the gambling and the smoking and the problems that a few Chinese were causing for the whole community.
‘Like one bad apple it can spoil the whole barrel,’ he told me. Father says that there were stores near ours that were causing many problems but now that has stopped because they are not here. They have moved down to the other end of the city. But some of the gambling and opium stores are still in streets nearby. And then Father placed his large hands over the paper and looked at me and told me that never was I to enter these stores under any circumstances—ever.
‘Yes BaBa,’ I replied in Chinese. Father looked puzzled at first because I never called him BaBa.
‘Good, yes good,’ he said.
We talked for a while about the stores in George Street and where the Chinese were. We read only a little more and then today’s Chinese lesson was complete but before I could enjoy the rest of the day I still had my chores to do.
Monday, 10 August
I do not know really why I have had to go to the new school except that my brother went there and I must go too. The work is much the same as the work I did before. I felt more comfortable at my old school. People liked me there.
Tuesday, 11 August
Once again Father reminded me that I am going to China. Elder Brother has only a few more months in China and then he will be home. When he returns he will assume more of the business, and I will go to China. Father says that the sooner I go the sooner that I will return here. He has plans requiring both sons to know the business. I do not know what Father’s plans are. I do not know whether I want to work in the store. Maybe I want to write.
I said to Father that maybe I could delay going to China until all the extra work that he is doing for all the Chinese people is resolved. His reply was very quick and sharp. ‘M’hei.’ He paused. ‘This not likely to happen for a long time Chek Chee—maybe not even in my lifetime. Some European people here are not very kindly towards the Chinese. They are a very loud and powerful voice.’ There was no discussion. I am going to China like first brother and sister before me.
Father wants me to go to China. Mother too wants me to go to China. Sister wants me to go to China so that she can have my bed. I do not want to go to China.
Wednesday, 12 August
As I entered the store after school Father apologised for his sharp words yesterday. Mother might have talked to him. ‘Remember, a person is never too big or too important to admit error.’
While we were talking a man entered the store. He introduced himself with the usual Chinese greetings, even bowing to me. Straight away Father hugged me and passed me the dusting cloth at the same time. I tried to avoid it, unsuccessfully. He mumbled something about talking later and escorted the man into his office. All afternoon he was with the man, in between serving customers.
We didn’t see Father until the evening meal. Then he returned to the office. He is still there now as I am writing.
Thursday, 13 August
Yesterday’s visitor was a man who had travelled from the country. He came to the store requesting help in completing the government documentation. This has become a more frequent task since the death of Mr Quong Tart for Father and men like him. More of Father’s day is taken up with letters and documents. ‘Having someone to operate the store would be helpful.’
Maybe if I can be more help in the store then Father will see that I do not need go to China. But Elder Brother is due home soon. Still I gathered the cloth and furiously dusted the shelves. I was preparing to mop the floors as I usually do on Thursday afternoons but Father wanted jars moved instead.
Tuesday, 18 August
I visited Mr Lee’s store this afternoon. King Woo came over after school to talk so he came too. We didn’t just visit Mr Lee. We had tasks to do. Mr Lee needed help in his laundry. It was steamy and hot. We were sweaty when we finished so we sat to drink cha with Mr Lee. He has a queue like mine but there is not much there.
‘For how long have you grown yours?’ I asked Mr Lee.
‘Down to bum.’
We giggled. ‘No not how long
,’ I said with hands wide apart, ‘how long, how many years?’
‘Ah, very long. For ever maybe. Not sure. But thin now, not like yours.’
‘Why don’t you cut it?’ added King Woo.
‘Many Chinese live here cut queues to show cut off imperialist past. But queue or no queue they still Chinese. Short or long hair does not show Chineseness. Why you wear queue?’ he asked me.
That answer was simple. Father does, Elder Brother does, I like it … its part of where I am from.
Wednesday, 19 August
I am once again in severe trouble. Father and Mother are going to be so ashamed once more, especially Mother because she told me to hold my head high and ignore the comments.
But I couldn’t. I was already suffering at school with my poor results in the arithmetic test. I will never be able to assist Father in the store if I do not soon attain excellent arithmetic results. And as I was walking across the playground I heard one of the senior students much bigger than I call moon-face.
‘Are you talking to me?’ I asked the boy.
‘Are you talking to me?’ he mimicked. ‘Well if the shoe fits …’
I took three steps closer and belted him in the stomach, much harder than I hit my cousin. He doubled over in pain. I did not know that I had that strength. Immediately I was grabbed behind by one of the Masters and he screamed in my face that Fort Street boys do not punch anyone let alone another Fort Street boy. He called to the senior who was the target of my fury, ‘Stand up. It wasn’t that hard.’ I wanted to ask the Master if it was correct to speak hating words but I knew that it would only make matters worse. And then I thought of Mother and Father. And then I wanted to cry. I had offended and hurt them so much.
I was ordered to the office. The gods must have been smiling on me for at the office Mr Horan was there. I remember Elder Brother talking about him and how he had respect for this man. Well this must have been a different Mr Horan because he started questioning me immediately I entered his room.
‘Having trouble are we Edward? Throwing punches are we Edward? How about a few switches now Edward?’ I held out my hand as he demanded. I knew what was going to happen and it was going to hurt. His reputation with the switch was impressive and for fighting I would receive at least six. He lined up the end of his cane with the tips of my fingers. Then he lined up the cane with the base of my fingers. Top of the fingers. Bottom of the fingers. Teasing me, making me sweat. Top of the fingers. Bottom of the fingers. He positioned the cane to strike and continued, ‘Now Edward are you not of sufficient mettle, do you not possess the intestinal fortitude to resist this prehistoric behaviour? Have you not the strength to ignore this imbecilic slur?’ He uses such strange words. Top of the fingers. He did know what the boy said. Bottom of the fingers. And as I write I can only remember some of the rest of the lecture—teacher’s job to sort it out, not boy’s task, parents will not be pleased. I was sweating badly now. I had never had the switch. The palms of my hands were getting clammier with every syllable. Top of the fingers. Bottom of the fingers. The words ‘hold out the hand’ were bouncing off the walls, ringing in my ears. I wanted to collapse. He placed a note into my upturned palm to take home. I was relieved when he told me with his cane poised in the air that Father would not be required to attend his office but then he said that that I would explain what happened and our discussion.
‘Well boy. Go now. And see me tomorrow.’ I was still waiting for the switch. ‘Go to class Edward,’ and he slowed his voice but with emphasis as if to wake me from a trance, ‘Now.’ And like lightning I was out of there and sitting in class.
I told Father and Mother as soon as I was home from school.
‘Has it been resolved?’ said Father. ‘Oh Edward,’ sighed Mother. I stayed out of everyone’s way for the rest of the day.
Saturday, 22 August
Father says that my reading the paper is good not only to learn the Chinese characters but also to receive a broad perspective of what is happening in the world, especially China. Maybe this would be good—if I could read the characters fluently. I don’t know how long it took me but I could barely read the first page, even with Father hovering nearby correcting my many mistakes. I do know that Mother delivered afternoon tea while I was in class.
Tuesday, 25 August
King Woo and I play chess some afternoons. I never win, at least not yet. He has been teaching me and I am learning but I never win. He came around this afternoon so I was freed from duties. We sat in the lane, board on the box and played. Again my general was cornered. Again I was defeated. One day I will win. At least my elephant survived and saw the general cornered. I should not expect to win against King Woo. He even defeats Father.
Wednesday, 2 September
Father is not to be disturbed today. That was Mother’s message when I arrived home from school. My sisters are lucky. Mother often buys them a treat on the way home from school and they get home earlier than I do. I receive no such treats.
Thursday, 3 September
Again Father is not to be disturbed. Even Mother is assisting in the store, and Mr Lee. Father is meeting with Sing To, one of his customers and Mr Lee sometimes goes in. It must be important. The doors were closed; they were there a long time.
Saturday, 5 September
Saturday morning with Father in the store. I began tidying the shelves and dusting and then counting the stock for Father as usual. He called out the product and I counted each item for him. He recorded the number and then the next product was called. This was only broken by the occasional interruption from a customer who was requiring Father’s assistance.
I thought that I might escape my Chinese studies for today’s duties were very time consuming, but there was no such fortune. Father had the paper ready for me under the counter. This is what I discovered: lots of people, 150 (although first I told Father that it was 15) were arrested by police in Pitt Street for gambling and another opium den has been closed and the owner, a Chinese man, was arrested.
We stopped reading and writing soon after that. Father is so annoyed with Chinese people because they still are messing with this evilness. He is also annoyed because the reports complain about the Chinese gambling but he says that there are just as many, and probably more, European men gambling in the dens too. Mostly Chinese men abuse the opium he thinks.
Father has again said that he never, ever wants to see me around those parts of the street. Again I am told not to enter those stores but to walk across the other side of the street. ‘Your mother and I will be most ashamed if you go there. This will be a great disobedience and I do not know what we would do.’
Father and some of the other merchants were involved in the government examination of the opium and gambling in Sydney. Father saw things that he would not even tell Mother.
Sunday, 6 September
There must be strange planetary alignments at the moment; Father says the gods are doing strange things up in the heavens. For what greeted us after we had returned from church and were preparing for lunch this morning was very, very surprising. My cousin and her family came to the store today. Being Sunday we were closed for trading but we are never closed for visitors. Chinese people visit but we were so surprised when the knock at the door revealed Europeans.
I did not recognise any of the people. Father did. He rushed to open the door. I don’t think they had ever been here before because they stood outside.
‘Welcome, welcome,’ Father said. ‘Please do come in. Wonderful it is to see you here.’ Father is very sensitive about customs and practices. He opens the doors for Chinese people (and many others) bowing and clasping visitors’ hands, shaking them up and down, but not this time. Mother had tears in her eyes. This was her family. Father stood aside, cleared the air with a waving hand and welcomed them. The men shook hands. My uncle wiped his hands over and over on the side of his jacket afterwards. When Father bent to kiss my aunt’s cheek my uncle quickly pushed her along. That was not going to ha
ppen. I heard Uncle mumble. I am sure he said something about it is just Asiatics and customs. Mother once said that Uncle was just like her father. He really did not like Chinese people. He forbids his family to visit. So I wondered what they were doing here.
Mother kissed them both on the cheek, her sister especially, and I could see tears like rivers flowing down her cheeks. She has not seen her sister since her father’s funeral. And she hugged her niece tightly. The girl, my cousin, shook Father’s hand too.
‘We are privileged that you grace us with your presence,’ stated Father. ‘You must stay for lunch. You will like lunch.’
Sunday lunch is always special. Mother spends lots of time preparing meat and the vegetables. We spend hours eating and joking. Uncle was about to say something but my aunt was glaring at him before he could barely open his mouth, just the way Mother does—and that stare had the same effect. My uncle was silent.
Children, we have visitors, I expected Father to say but this time it was Mother calling, and we all knew what that meant. There was no jostling for position next to the meat serving dish or next to Father who often spooned an extra ladle of gravy onto the plate next to his. We were to be on our best behaviour. So of course while we were eating we all had impeccable manners, the correct cutlery was used and there was no chewing and talking—sometimes we can but not when there are visitors. And I am amazed. Mother transformed our family lunch into a feast for three additional mouths. She did this with minimal fuss and everyone was filled to eloquent sufficiency as Father liked to announce.
The Melting Pot Page 2