The Melting Pot

by Christopher Cheng

  Chinese people are being punished because last century Chinese men worked so hard and successfully. That’s what is happening.

  Mr Lee knows a lot. Helping in his laundry this afternoon he told me. I did not know he had a relationship with a woman—he was going to marry her but her family (he called them big noses too) would not permit it.

  ‘Your baba lucky. Your mama strong,’ he was very quiet when he was speaking now. He also told me that not only was Mother’s family not pleased with her marrying a Chinese man but there were people in Father’s family, too, who were not pleased that he was not marrying a Chinese woman. His mother organised girls to meet when he travelled back to China, from good families to be his future wife. She was not happy with Father and thought that he was marrying an inferior person.

  Friday, 16 October

  I could not cease thinking about my father and my mother wanting to marry and my mother’s family wanting her to marry a better type of person, better than my father. What is a better type of person? Is it a person just like her with white skin? Is it because Chinese men have different skin? Is it because they speak a different language? Maybe it is the food that Chinese men eat. Do they think that Chinese men are inferior in some way? If that is so then because I am half Chinese and half Australian does that make me half as good?

  I think I shall never get involved in marriage.

  Saturday, 17 October

  I know what the men should do when they arrive. I worked it out last night before I slept. They should disembark and pretend that they do not understand and when the immigration man reads out the 50 English words then they can spell them correctly the first time and not even have to attempt anything in some foreign language. That would be a brilliant idea.

  Father and the other Chinese men here in Australia could send messages to people leaving China telling them to pretend they cannot speak English. They should put an I do not understand look on their face. Then the immigration man would be very surprised when he discovered the truth after the test had begun. Or another idea … maybe one of the men could find out what the test words are (just like the cheater boys at school). They could learn the words before they arrive and pass the test.

  But when I mentioned this to Father he said that not only is this a dishonest practise but that if the Chinese man being tested could understand English or could write English or any other language that was chosen then the official would simply choose another language that the Chinese man did not understand. Eventually the official would win and force the Chinese man out.

  Father says that it is a government policy and that the only way it will change is if the people want it to change. Why do the people not want to change this?

  I found a ball in the lane this afternoon. It is like the ball that the boys use at school to play cricket. I threw the ball at the wall and it bounced straight back at me … and hit me in the ankles. I hobbled back inside, with the ball.

  Sunday, 18 October

  And now I hear more distressing news, and I should not have been eavesdropping while the men were in conversation but as soon as I heard the word immigration my ears were alerted. Besides, if they did not want me to hear they should be talking in Chinese.

  It is vital that Chinese merchants be able to travel unhindered throughout the Commonwealth—especially if they are travelling on business checking out their interests or establishing further trading possibilities in countries overseas. What is the point of being in the Commonwealth if they have these restrictions that other merchants doing business do not have? All the merchants are to unite and discuss what to do.

  Very unfair. Father is a merchant. If they impose merchant restrictions then Father will not be able to travel and his family will not be able to travel either. Maybe that is good. I would not have to go to China.

  Monday, 19 October

  Yesterday Elizabeth spent time with my sisters and more time chatting pleasantly and courteously to Mother. I felt nauseous hearing it. She also spent time alone in the store—when it was closed. I watched her wander pensively into the store, and she might have made it to Father’s office. Spying is wrong I know. Father keeps reiterating that to me but he was not around and Mother was resting so someone had to watch what was happening. I do know that Father would be supervising if he were here and I keep being told that as the eldest son here it is my responsibility, so … I was being responsible.

  She was lifting plates and opening jars and peering inside and searching through drawers. Most of the drawers that she opened contained Father’s correspondence and books, and most of those were in Chinese script, so she was very, very frustrated. She even opened some of the ginger jars. She nearly saw me. I muffled a giggle as I watched her clumsy attempt at opening a jar. It is as if she has never seen a jar like this before. Surely she remembers what happened the first time? Finally she lifted a lid and slipped her hand in. I was sure her fat hand would get stuck. As soon as she sampled some of the contents she rapidly screwed up her face (she looked just like the boys at school who are made to suck lemons) and loudly spat them out. I do not think that she likes pickled pork very much. I nearly revealed my location because I sniggered a little too loud at her reactions. Not too carefully she pushed under the shelves with her foot the spat-out food. She dropped the lid back onto the jar, which might have cracked; I will have to check, and hurried out of the room. I could hear her gulping lots of water.

  When she was gone I cleaned up her mess—again. I should have left it there to reveal her snooping and prying to Father and Mother.

  Tuesday, 20 October

  I found my brother’s old copy of the Fortian magazine. The puzzle was to multiply the numerals 1, 2, 3, etc up to 9 inclusive (but omitting 8) by 9, and the result would be a row of 1s. I tried this and the first time I did not achieve the answer. I thought the magazine had made a mistake. But then I tried it again, just to make sure and what was my result? 111,111,111. I tried it again just to make sure and the same answer was achieved. No mistake. My brother’s name was in there too. He achieved an academic award. That’s what Father wants from me too.

  I tested Father on the puzzle this afternoon in the store. Right the first time. Too smart. He complimented me on the task but then suggested that if I spent more time applying myself to my academic studies then I would achieve a better result. He wants my name to appear in the magazine.

  I wanted to tell him that maybe I will never have my name in the magazine because I will never achieve the top result. I am not the brilliant student that Elder Brother was, but I know that would be pointless. I know that Father wishes he had the academic opportunities that are at our beckon.

  Wednesday, 21 October

  There will never be pleasing Father. I showed him my work that I had completed this afternoon after school. ‘This is good Chek Chee, most pleasing. But you can do better.’ The work at school was all correct. The completed homework tasks were all correct I know because I did them twice just to make sure. How can I do better?

  Thursday, 22 October

  Another boat from China has arrived in the harbour. I saw it at the wharf this afternoon with Father after school. I hope that it only has goods for the stores and not human cargo.

  Another boat like this one with men from China arrived earlier this year. The immigration officials boarded the boat before it moored at the harbour to check each man. They were taken to customs house and given the dictation test. They failed.

  I was sent to some of the businesses in Chinatown by Mr Lee, Father and some other men. I had a list of businesses to attend, with a letter all the men are to read. It advised all the traders what has happened with the latest ship and that a donation fund was being established to help the men.

  They will use the money to release some of the men on the boat. They can’t release them all. Some of the men gave me money to take back to Father. Some have said that they will deliver money personally. I pieced most of it together … it cost £100 to release each man fo
r 30 days. The released man will work for some of the merchants doing jobs. At the end of that time the man must be on a boat back to China, otherwise he goes into jail until the government can find him passage. £100 is so much money. I have never seen £100. With £100 I could …

  But the men will never raise enough money to release all of them. The rest are imprisoned on the ship till passage back to China is arranged.

  Mr Lee knows a man who escaped. He did not make his passage back to China. He is somewhere in this country so the government kept that £100 that Mr Lee placed on bond for the man. He was not pleased that he lost his money but the Chinese people raised the money to pay him back. I think Mr Lee might have helped him escape, I remember him smiling wickedly when he told me.

  I did not visit any traders who were not Chinese. Even those who like the Chinese businesses. My uncle and men like him would not donate money—only to send them back!

  I did not see the government men stopping people from other countries, only Chinese. ‘That is why, Edward, that we are writing letters and documents. This is not fair for the ones coming here and not fair too for the Chinese men already here. They should apply for exemption papers and not have to do this.’

  Friday, 23 October

  Father is furious, no, he is boiling. He went to the government offices today with Mr Goh but Father’s word is not good enough to vouch for him. Mr Goh will not be allowed to return here if he goes to China. Father was in the offices all afternoon drafting a letter, while Mother attended to the store. I had to prepare dinner. Mother rushed between the store and the kitchen with dinner preparation instructions. Dinner was late, and not too good.

  Saturday, 24 October

  I delivered a package and letter to King Ming’s store this morning. I was pleased, for no Chinese lessons today for me. King Ming was quiet and weeping.

  He was one of the released men. He didn’t go back to China. He was sponsored to work here. He is ashamed that he was able to stay here while all the other men from his clan were sent back to China. He wants to be successful to bring other Chinese men out too … but he does not even own his own store.

  King Ming has a Certificate of Domicile even though he failed the test. He can live here and go back to China and come back again. He was lucky. His knowledge of trading in other parts of the world and Chinese goods saved him from being sent back. Like a few of the other men on the boat the £100 deposit was paid for his release so he worked in his sponsor’s store for the 30 days before he would be shipped back to China. While he was working his sponsor filled out the papers requesting an exemption certificate (the sponsor said that King Ming was irreplaceable) and amazingly the government official granted the certificate.

  Father was not convinced it was clean because he knows that other businessmen completed the same forms with the same reasons but with a very different, unsatisfactory result.

  Sunday, 25 October

  Sunday afternoons in the store used to be restful. With no customers it is a good place to spend time quietly. I wanted to sit and read but this afternoon, there she was, hanging around like a bad smell.

  ‘Oh, it’s you,’ was all I could blurt out when she appeared after lunch.

  ‘Course it’s me. Who did you think it was, your mother checking up on you? What you hiding now.’

  ‘I’m not hiding anything. I want to read.’

  ‘Read?’ She questioned. ‘Reading? You? How nice. Father says that reading is for the soft hearted. What you reading anyway? They teach you that at that school of yours?’

  ‘Nothing that would interest you and of course they teach reading … but not to me because I can already read.’ I wanted to tell Elizabeth that if she went to Fort Street School then the Elocution Teacher would be very pleased if she did not have any money on elocution lesson days. Then she wouldn’t have to teach her!

  We continued sniping at each other. ‘We nearly came here many months ago you know. Ma wanted to but Pa said no. Ma insisted that she and I were coming over whether he likes it or not, specially now as woman in New South Wales have got the vote, so we did. He had to come.

  ‘He’s alright me Pa you know. Works hard for a livin’ and makes a good crust but he says your Pa’s …’ and she stopped speaking.

  ‘He says what?’

  ‘Oh, can’t remember now.’ I knew she could. She didn’t want to say. And I was sure I knew what she would say, a leopard can’t change its spots. But that was the end of our conversation. She was running to talk to Mother. She would put on sweet charms to Mother I know. I do not think I enjoy having Elizabeth visiting us.

  I grabbed my cricket ball and threw it 120 times at the wall, catching it every time it came back. Not bad. That made me feel better.

  Monday, 26 October

  Father was furious when we returned this afternoon. He didn’t even open the door for me to go in first as usual. He went straight to his office without a hug for us and a kiss for Mother. He usually sits on the stool for a chat too. Mother followed him in, eventually, convincing him to join us for dinner.

  This afternoon Father and I were walking along George Street, stopping to greet people we knew as was custom and we did this at Mr Chun’s store. Like Father he is a merchant and also a respected businessman. They agree on many things but he and Father have very different thoughts on the immigration policy. He approves of the new Immigration Restriction Act with the evil dictation test that the government is enforcing. I know. I was standing right there with him as he told Father. He said that it was good restrictions are being placed on the Chinese coming to this land. Father was stunned when he heard this statement. I was too. He squeezed my hand tighter when he heard those words.

  Father gathered his thoughts and then asked him why he supports the policy.

  ‘Simple,’ he told us. ‘The less Chinese permitted into country the better.’ And then he continued to ramble on and on ‘… we all here now; we all do very, very well; many of us opening branches of stores through town even into country; best of all we have citizenship. Think about what happen if many, many more Chinese merchant took residence and build businesses. We would have very much competition. Not only we competing against the white traders, we have to compete Chinese traders too doing the deals.’

  For Father this simply was not a valid argument. He tried to argue that there was no justification for restriction of entry just because of possible competition. ‘That was the same argument used by the white traders here to keep Chinese out.’

  We left the store with Father walking so fast he was dragging me. He barely muttered a word all the way to the store, except that we are no longer permitted to spend money at Mr Chun’s store.

  Tuesday, 27 October

  Father was calmer today but he did continue to walk around the store shaking his head. He did not say much but he did keep mumbling in Chinese. That is a sure sign that everything is not settled. A little rain too would make Father more unsettled. He does not like the damp. It affects his bones. He will be visiting the herbalist for his remedies too I am sure.

  Wednesday, 28 October

  He did. Father, together with Mr Lee, visited the herbalist for treatment for bones and to talk Chinese.

  Thursday, 29 October

  I talked to Mr Goh’s son Stephen this afternoon while Mr Goh was talking with Father. I thought they might be discussing using the store next door. It would be great to have another boy my age around. But then I remembered …

  Stephen told me that his father has to make an impossible decision. Does he go to China to attend to his dying relatives as an only son should, leaving his wife and children here? Or does he remain here never seeing his parents again?

  ‘You all could go,’ I replied.

  ‘Not possible. If we all go no-one returns.’

  ‘Course you can come back,’ I replied to Stephen as we tossed another round of knuckles.

  ‘Mother was born here’ (which surprised me because she looks Chinese and only ever spe
aks Chinese). ‘Father was born in China so he might never be allowed back in and neither will we.’

  ‘But you were born here so you have to come back in,’ I said spilling all the knuckles. My concentration was ruined. And then Stephen told me that his father was not certain. He doesn’t have the naturalisation papers that Father does and the officials might refuse the whole family re-entry. Some of the men insisted that they would be permitted re-entry but no one is certain of anything with this government.

  They are all Australians. They all should be permitted to return. I am to travel to China. What if the government decides that Elder Brother can never return? What if they decide that I should never return?

  Monday, 2 November

  Today, a group of men had a meeting with some of the government ministers on behalf of the Chinese residents here. Father closed the store for a while. Mother was not pleased. The government didn’t take notes. So the men have to write a letter about the immigration problems and what is happening to the Chinese men—even after the talk.

  So tonight, while I am writing these words, Father is in the office writing his. He has to write what was discussed. He writes in his head first.

  Before Father ever writes a letter he composes it in his head, then he writes one copy. He reads it aloud (very loudly) at the altar (or the clock or any other object around the room that will listen to him). He did that on Saturday when I was home (we didn’t have any lessons!) He spent lots of time in the office, only coming out when one customer needed assistance (she only spoke in Chinese) and when he wanted an opinion of the words he was writing. He walked out from his room and talked to the wall. Then he turned around and told me the same sentence and asked how the phrase sounded. But without waiting for my response, and I do not think that the wall could advise him, he spun on his heels and was back at his desk writing.