by Linda Banks
In the adjoining room, an airy apartment with one side open to the heavens, boys are learning to make bamboo blinds, baskets, etc. Five more frames for matting stand in an open verandah across the compound, and here the boys are of more advanced age. They stand up as we come in, and one man with a happy, intelligent face responds to our greeting of ‘Peace.’
This man was brought to the school by his mother one cold, raw Christmas morning twelve years ago. ‘I have no room for him,’ I had to tell her, for my two tiny rooms were full. ‘Oh, do take pity on him,’ the woman urged, ‘rice is so dear that his father says he will kill him if he stays at home eating it any longer.’ Well, one does not look twelve years ahead in the face of such misery and – we managed somehow.
To return to the main building. Happy voices are singing as the busy fingers move quickly in making string. These are the little boys, and it is well to keep their hands occupied; they are employed in rolling straw and flax into string to be used later in the year for the straw mattresses on which they lie in winter. Others are making door mats from palm-tree fibre. Matting of some twenty different patterns, some with five colours woven into the design, is made here, and four matting frames are in constant use. The building is in native style, and the work carried on in the roomy verandahs that enclose a quadrangle.
Then we enter the dormitories – simple enough as regards bedding; the bed coverings show patchwork quilts made by kind friends in Australia and make the rooms look bright and cheery … to replace these in spring we have a few red blankets, as the native cotton-wool covering is too hot, and the boys are apt to throw them off in the night and catch cold in the chilly hours of the Eastern early morning …
Friends in England can always help us by sending out works in Braille – old magazines or books weeded out from the libraries will bring delight to the boys. One friend not only wrote out St Matthew’s Gospel in Chinese in Braille, but at her own cost had it printed and sent to the boys. This gift encouraged us more than we can say, but I would just add this, that though we are missionaries we are not so narrow-minded as to think our boys should be fed on religious books alone. We want healthy work of all kinds that will widen their ideas and teach them something of what is going on in the world outside. Further, we find it difficult to get paper suitable for Braille writing, the carriage from England costing more than the paper itself, so that we often have to use up old newspapers for this purpose.
Now, leaving the schoolroom, we cross an open space at the sides of which are my study and the matron’s room. And here a door leads us to the drill ground; the small boys do dumb-bell exercise every day, and the older boys are instructed in soldier drill.
In the large school we have a very good organ, and a very useful ‘baby’ organ. The boys are uncommonly musical for Chinese and play and sing in parts quite correctly. One plays the organ, another the violin, another the cornet, and so on; but we are very hard up for musical instruments, and if anyone has such a possession that is unwanted we should indeed appreciate the gift.
The boys assemble in the large school at 6 a.m., when prayers are said. At 7.30 a.m. an address is given by one of the pupil-teachers, followed by lessons, work, meals and play till 9 p.m., then the ‘Last Post’ is sounded, lights are put out and silence reigns.
The dining-room is next to the schoolroom, and is sparsely furnished with the typical Chinese wooden tables and benches, chopsticks and bowls forming the simple table equipment. The boys have three meals a day, consisting of rice, with fish, vegetables, etc.
Domestic work occupies a little of the boys’ energies. On one side of the school buildings is a drying ground, and here, spread out on bamboo poles, some 250 garments may be seen every week – we occasionally receive a present of soap, and it is always most acceptable …
At the far corner of the drying ground is a small isolation ward for the reception of cases of infectious disease, especially small-pox and the like. On the other side of the school is a level piece of ground, where from end to end seven telegraph wires are stretched on posts some three feet high, the wires being a couple of feet apart. This is a device to exercise the little boys. Grasping a swivel in one hand, seven boys at a time can run from one end to the other of the playground as fast as they like in the comfortable knowledge that the way is clear and that there is nothing to stumble against. When boys first come to the school they usually creep and fumble around, but they quickly develop, and I think this running exercise gives them confidence quicker than anything else would. Playthings we sadly need for the younger ones – play is so good for them in every way – but we have little money to spend in this direction.
Beyond the playground is a garden. The poor little lads quite appreciate the flower’s sweet scent, even if they have to rely upon the eyes of others for a description of their beauty.
What is to become of these quickly-growing boys when they arrive at manhood worries them as well as us. We are earnestly seeking the wherewithal to pay for the building of an industrial home on a piece of land, which is already walled in and in our possession. The idea is that a boy who has passed at least eight years of his life in the school and has obtained the certificate should be drafted into the industrial home, earn his own living and at the same time continue to study in the evenings. For some of the more promising boys there are other prospects – teachers, preachers and organists, but the majority must gain a livelihood in mat making or in working bamboo.23
In late July, Amy was one of three main speakers at the Saturday morning missionary meeting of the Keswick Convention in the Lake District.24 Since the Keswick movement had contributed so much to her and George’s spiritual journeys, addressing it was a great privilege. Scarcely was this over when external events took a momentous and unpredictable course. The world was at war in one of the fiercest and deadliest conflicts in history. What would this mean for missionary work in China? What would it mean for her work among the blind?
CHAPTER 6
The Order of the Golden Grain (1915–1920)
The onset of World War I affected the Wilkinson family’s plans for the rest of their furlough. They had intended to sail ‘down under’ in November, then on to New Zealand so that Amy could represent CMS at the Marsden Centenary Celebration over Christmas. However, the German navy, now the most powerful in the world, posed a threat to any overseas travel. For safety’s sake, Amy and George felt they should cancel their travel arrangements.1 Now, with extra time in England, they had the opportunity to think about their long-term plans. To maintain and expand the school, Amy needed to explore more commercial outlets for the sale of its products. This could be done not only in England but also in the United States which, so far, was unaffected by the war.
Providentially, within a few weeks Amy received a letter from the officials who had organised the Nanking Exhibition, asking if her school could supply items for display at the International Exposition opening on New Year’s Day 1915 in San Diego.2 She arranged for her colleagues in Foochow to send a sample collection of woven bamboo, plaited ropes and seagrass twine for making fine homewares, as well as prototypes of mats and chairs for exhibition. Impressed by the craftsmanship of the materials, the school was presented with two silver medals. Despite great excitement at receiving these, Amy’s hopes for contracts from manufacturers were short-circuited when the United States joined the war.
As the fighting continued, bogged down in the trenches on the Western Front, Amy and George had to decide when and how to return to China. The bigger issue, however, was the education of their children. Most missionaries at that time organised their children’s schooling in their home country. This was partly because the quality of education was better, it was provided for girls as well as boys, and there was support from wider family during the holidays. For these reasons, Amy and George decided it would best for the children to remain in England. When they broached this matter with the wider family, George’s mother and his unmarried siblings, Jane and Horace, offered to
look after them for the next five years.
6.1 Amy and George, with Marsden and Isabel, in London, 1915.
After settling the children into school and sharing some good family times, on 23 January 1916 Amy and George, holding back tears, boarded the S.S. Mongolian, a converted cargo ship recently repaired after damage by torpedoes from a German submarine.3
院書光靈
On reaching Foochow, Amy and George began to experience firsthand the wider changes taking place in China. Twentieth-century forms of lighting, transport and communication were appearing, together with a more tolerant official attitude to Christianity.4 Yuan Shikai, president of the republic, had shown himself sympathetic to missionary work and even arranged a generous annual donation to the Blind School.5 However, under his rule, the country began to move away from becoming a constitutional democracy and towards the restoration of a dynastic system. Indeed, for three months, Yuan Shikai took over full control of the nation and proclaimed himself emperor. A notable event during this time was the official ending of the opium trade on 1 May 1916. All remaining stocks were burnt and celebrations were held in Foochow and throughout the country. After Yuan Shikai suddenly died in July, civil war broke out in northern China, and Sun Yat Sen returned to southern China to take control of the Kuomintang government. Though he strongly advocated the reunification of the country, it began to fragment into areas controlled by military leaders or ‘warlords’.
At the same time, Cha Cang Hospital received some substantial gifts from officials in Foochow. In response to the hospital’s help in caring for sick soldiers, the city’s military commander presented certificates to graduating nurses, and its civilian governor gave the hospital a huge lacquer board on which was written:
They Treat All Classes Of People
Who Come To The Hospital Alike 6
Over the next couple of years, the hospital, with a staff of ten (seven of whom were Chinese) and the evangelist Ling Kai from Amy’s school, dealt with a higher than usual number of epidemics. The first was dengue fever, to which George fell victim.7 As a result, he asked Ling Kai to write the annual letter to supporters about the spiritual side of the hospital’s work.
Nearly eight hundred patients stayed in the hospital last year. Some of the patients were very pleased to listen to God’s Word, as we have been to their rooms to talk to them every day. We have given them the Gospel books to read and explained the story of Jesus to them. We have also taught them to learn the Lord’s Prayer, the Ten Commandments, the Creed … We wish all the patients who come to the Hospital to hear God’s Word … most come from other districts or other countries, very far away from the city here, so that it is difficult to tell how many patients believed in Jesus very year. But in the city we have seen that some of the patients have been to church the Sunday after they left the hospital. And … we have also heard from the catechists, who belong to the churches in the other districts, that they have found some patients who left the hospital here joining congregations in other districts.8
6.2 Postcard from Isabel Wilkinson to her father, pre-addressed by George, 1916.
Probably missing Isabel and Marsden, George decided to write his annual Christmas letter to the hospital’s child ex-patients. For the country children, he commented on the latest developments in the city – ‘wide level roads, electric light, telephones, public parks, rickshaws, horse-carriages, and an occasional motor.’9
Shortly after their return, Amy received a copy of an interview she had given, while on furlough, to a journalist from the American Foundation for the Blind. On the front cover of this highly respected international magazine, Outlook for the Blind, a photo of the ‘Foochow China School for Blind Boys’ stared back at her.
The illustration which we use for our frontispiece has been sent to us by Mrs George Wilkinson … who … deserves the approbation of workers for the blind throughout the world. Single-handed … she has solved for herself many of the most difficult problems connected with the education and training of the blind … Her splendid idea of adaptability and energy is shown by the fact that she discovered for herself that the blind boys could make the well known Chinese straw matting, samples of which she brought with her to London, and while there secured promises of orders from one of the best wholesale furnishing houses in England. The purchasing agent assures her that the quality of her blind boys’ product was superior to that of similar material sent from the Orient. If the war had not intervened, Mrs Wilkinson would undoubtedly have had many orders for her boys.10
Receiving this magazine motivated Amy to begin writing a booklet to describe the growth, practices and goals of the school for a wider audience. Drawing on some of her earlier reports and lectures, and adding photos, the result was The Soul-Lighted School of Foochow. Amy saw this as a tool to promote the Blind School and help secure its future.11
Her account opens with a description of the school’s beginnings in Deng Doi, her learning and translation of Braille into the Foochow dialect, as well as the introduction of trades into the boys’ education. She then invites the reader to contrast these humble beginnings with the school as it exists today.
It is situated at the north of Foochow, the provincial city of Fukien. The scenery is beautiful – a very fairyland of peach blossom in the spring – but alas! the boys cannot see its beauties. As you enter the compound, one of the first things to impress you is a white board hanging over the entrance gate, with four large black Chinese characters … ‘The Soul-Lighted School’. Many Chinese look up at these characters, and ask: ‘Why is this school called “The Soul-Lighted School”?’ When told that every one of the ninety, or more, pupils are blind: ‘Truly is that so?’, they exclaim, and often walk up to the first boy and gaze into his eyes, and say: ‘Truly it is so!’12
Asking her readers to imagine themselves as a typical Chinese visitor being shown round this school for the first time, she goes on to describe the varied programs for the range of her students.
You walk into the drill ground and see some sixty boys marching to the stirring sound of the brass band playing, ‘Onward Christian Soldiers’. Knowing that you are Chinese, the band will tactfully strike up a well-known tune, ‘Mi-le-hua’, and then the boys will sing a quartet in English and Chinese or play on the organ.
After this you will be conducted to a classroom where you will find that the boys, though completely blind, can write or read any colloquial or classical sentence, using the ordinary English adapted to the ‘Initial and Final’ system. They can write English on a Blick Typewriter, and work with mathematical problems on the board made for the purpose.
In the kindergarten you will see the little ones are taught to run by holding on to a swivel attached to a telegraph wire stretched between posts twenty yards apart. These small people will next entertain by walking on stilts, climbing swinging ladders and slippery poles, singing, marching, and playing games, all the time brimming over with fun and merriment.
Suddenly a bugle strikes up. ‘Come to the cookhouse door, boys’ and these blind fellows rush across the compound to the dining-room. As they reach their allotted place, they sit down quietly, but at the word, ‘Pray’, they stand, cover their faces with their hands and reverently thank the heavenly Father for that day’s bread. Being Confucianists, you are told the meaning of the prayer to the ‘One true God and heavenly Father’, and are much impressed … Before departing you ask ‘Where does the money come from to feed and clothe and educate all these blind boys?’ and are told that the work is one of faith, daily asking the heavenly Father for daily supplies. Then you take your leave, bowing courteously, and still saying: ‘Wonderful, wonderful!’
Yes, it is wonderful even to us to see the school with its ninety-five boys sent by the different missionary bodies working in the Fukien Province; or coming, as do some of them, even from Singapore. But to the Chinese, there is a greater wonder still. Confucianists, Taoists, and Buddhists do nothing for the blind; they leave them to die or beg or earn their li
ving by fortune-telling. And when they see this school, they realise it is the outcome of the Christian religion, which is one of love.13
Amy then shifts the focus to the educational philosophy underlying the boys’ work and study.
It is interesting to note how a blind boy begins to learn. We will watch one of 8 years old: he has only been in the school a month, and is busy picking out strands of tangled flax one by one and holding them in his left hand … When he has learned to gather these strands of flax mechanically, he is seated next to a boy who is making string out of them by rolling and twisting them in his hands, and is taught how to do it himself! Both this kind of string and another, made of short strains of sea-grass, are used in the school – the flax for the outside of the matting and the sea-grass for binding rice-straw mattresses, of which we make hundreds in the autumn season. We can also sell any quantity of sea-grass string for tying up packets of tea, or for sending to Australia to be used in making fancy chairs; so the small boys are not wasting their time but begin at once to help in the school. From string-twisting, the boy goes into the bamboo department and there learns to plait bamboo, which has been cut into length about half an inch wide.
Each boy works for half a day at learning a trade and for half a day at his books. At the end of eight years, he must be able to make a complete basket, or thread his matting frame, and make at least a foot and a half of matting in an hour. In addition to his trade, he will have leaned kindergarten action songs, singing, probably organ or orchestral music, reading, writing, and other subjects included in the lower primary course. Needless to say, he has daily instruction in the Bible and Prayer Book. If he can pass his examinations, he is given a certificate, and can become an industrial worker, and begin to earn money, living in the school, and paying for his food and clothes …
If a boy wishes to become a preacher or teacher he leaves off working at his trade … and enters the higher primary department where he is trained to become a pupil-teacher. At present there are former pupils making a living for themselves; three are evangelists, one a teacher in a small school for the blind, one organist to an evangelistic band, and one assists in the C.M.S. Hospital, Hingwha.