My Uncle
He was a tall, thin man with a few wisps of hair falling across his forehead, something like a dandelion head blown by the wind. But he had the eyes of a hawk, and as I told my story, these were fastened intently upon me.
This was my uncle, not at all the man my mother had described to me. She used to tell us how she had a brother in Hong Kong who was smart and strong and competent in so many ways. In fact, we had all imagined him to be a very wonderful man.
He listened quietly as I related to him about my family, the hardships we had suffered, and finally how I had made my escape. His manner was cool, but as I finished my story he broke into a smile.
"Well, you are very lucky," he said. "I knew life on the mainland was not easy, and for many years I have been planning on writing to your parents but haven't found time. Anyhow, you are here now, so don't worry about anything. Just make yourself feel at home as best you can."
I expressed my gratitude to him, glad that I had somewhere to stay.
Upon my initial arrival in Hong Kong I had been at the police station for a few days, as was normal for arriving escapees. When I was released two days later, all I had to wear was a pair of swimming trunks. Providentially, the owner of a small tailor's shop took me aside and set me up with a shirt and a pair of pants. He even gave me a few dollars for my bus fare so that I could look up some of my relatives. They put me in touch with my uncle, and it was only when he opened his home to me that I felt free to
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breathe again.
When he took me shopping in the department store I was amazed to find that we could buy things so easily. Back in China we needed both money and government coupons to make a purchase. Normally we were limited in what we bought by not having the necessary coupons. The few clothes I bought that night would have represented a year's ration back in China and I would have had to save up for a long time to get them. Although I had heard about not needing coupons in Hong Kong, it was hard for me to fully appreciate without seeing firsthand. The clothes I bought, too, were in the old-fashioned style of the mainland, all of them black, blue, white or gray in color.
When we returned from our shopping expedition, I was so happy and content that it all seemed like a dream. I had begun to feel very close to my uncle. My aunt and cousins all treated me very warmly. They asked me many things about my family and life on the mainland. They seemed to look upon me as some kind of hero, almost like a TV star, because of the adventurous story I had to tell.
I lost no time getting in touch with some of my former classmates who, like me, had also escaped to Hong Kong during the last year or two. We met in a restaurant one afternoon — Chen, Tseng, Liu and Liang. What excitement as we shook hands and laughed and joked together! We all knew each other well since we had spent three years in class together, three years in the Cultural Revolution as Red Guards, then finally three or four years on the farms.
Just ten years before we had sat listening to our teacher telling us of the evils of Hong Kong. "There," she would say, "the people are like flies. One day they will all wither away together with their capitalistic society."
Who would have known that many of her best students would choose to become some of those flies!
We had all survived the ordeal by sea, so we knew only too well how dangerous and horrible an experience that was. But now we were all alive together in this new and strange land and congratulated ourselves on our various
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providential escapes.
Tseng had arrived about two weeks earlier than I, so to me he looked no different from how I remembered him on the mainland. Chen had been here several months already, and both his long hair and brightly colored shirt demonstrated how well he had already adjusted to his new surroundings.
Liang looked a shy boy still. He worked as a mechanic in a factory. Liu, on the other hand, was the one who had been here the longest. He had always been a serious person who constantly had jokes played on him by his classmates. But now he wasn't dull in the least. Far from it, for he had a good job as manager in a factory.
I began to think about the great changes we were experiencing in Hong Kong, then compared them with life back on the mainland which changed little, and only by government decree. Yet, as I thought, I resolved to make the most of these opportunities opening up to me and take my chances as never before.
Realising our new-found "freedom of speech," we discussed many issues loudly and openly, not least of all the political situation in China and the government there. But when we said the names of some of the great leaders we felt tongue-tied because it almost seemed irreverent — or even a crime — to say their names in public.
Tseng reached out for some more sugar to put in his lemonade. I, too, felt mine was not sweet enough. Liu looked at us. "You know why it doesn't taste very sweet?" he asked with a smile. "It's because you lost so much energy while you were swimming. Your body needs to replenish its supply. I did the same when I first got here."
It was so good to realize that we could have all the sugar we wanted. It was not limited here, as in the mainland where everyone received a monthly ration.
After a long chat together Liu had to leave to go to work, so the rest of us decided to go for a walk. I hadn't yet seen around the city since arriving.
We walked along busy Nathan Road lined on both sides
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by many tall buildings. My first impression was that of bright colors being used everywhere — advertising signs, cars and the clothes people wore. Back in mainland China cars were only painted in drab gray, blue or black, so it seemed to me absurd to see cars, and even buses, painted in bright reds or yellows. They were so dazzling my eyes began to ache. I was also amazed to see the great variety of clothes people were wearing. "Why don't men feel embarrassed to wear such brightly colored shirts?" I asked myself. They were even too bright for women!
It also disturbed me to see the familiarity between girls and boys. "How dare they!" I thought. And some of the girls' dresses were so short it made me blush. Back in China it had been hard to tell the difference between male and female either by their appearance or behavior. A human being in his or her life was only considered to be part of the social machine and a fighter for a cause.
We entered some department stores. The beautiful clothes, watches, TVs, radios and other goods were all so tempting! "Maybe, someday, I shall be able to have some of these things," I thought to myself.
As we passed by one of the big stores, Chen suggested that we go inside. "This is a so-called 'Mainland company,' managed by leftist businessmen in Hong Kong or from the mainland directly," he told me.
Upon hearing those words I stopped dead in my tracks. Chen laughed, "Don't be scared, nobody will know where you've come from! There could be a million people here who escaped either before or after the liberation; they won't know about you."
I followed them into the store but still didn't feel safe. The salespersons were all wearing blue uniforms. Some even wore "Mao" badges just like on the mainland.
Now it was highly unlikely that they should take much interest in an insignificant Red Guard such as I, but if they felt they could exercise control over my family by persecuting me, they would certainly do so, so strong was their influence even in Hong Kong.
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But in spite of the bad feelings I used to experience in these "Mainland company" stores I still felt drawn to them. There I could smell something of my homeland, and with the fragrances and perfumes came back treasured memories. It made me feel proud to see the many new and quality products from China, but I also felt saddened to think that our own people would never reap the benefits of their own hard labor. Instead, these "flies," the capitalistic gentry, would enjoy them.
Out in the street, night was falling. the city seemed to be coming to life as the dazzling signs lit up all around and people poured onto the streets. As we walked along we were jostled by the crowds. "What a prosperous society!" I thought. "I don't feel at home in it yet but one day I will."
Two days later I was hired as an electrician. My foreman was a young man. He gave me a hammer and chisel and told me to cut holes in the wall for installation of electrical outlets and switches. I was very contented with that job because back on the mainland I had always wanted to be a worker, the most glamorous and highest political attainment at that time.
But the work was not easy. When I hit the concrete wall I would be showered with pieces of sharp stone and sparks. These would get in my eyes, making them sore and making it hard to see. Also, holding a heavy hammer for eight hours a day was not easy. At the end of the day my hands would be blistered and bleeding. But I used to receive my reward from the foreman, for with a smile he would say: "It will be hard at first but you're doing a good job. To begin with I worried about you because I'd heard that people from the mainland are not good workers. They don't obey orders and they even wreck their tools sometimes."
This surprised me because it was the first time I had heard such bad opinions of "Mainland boys," but it served as a reminder for me not to make a bad impression.
When I returned home from work that first night my aunt asked, "How did you feel after this work? It must be very hard — you look so tired."
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"What work is not hard?" my uncle joined in. "Here every kind of job is hard."
"Compared with what I did on the farm it was nothing," I said, "but I know I shall find it easier once I get used to wielding that heavy hammer."
After one month I had become more experienced. Also, I was beginning to get used to Hong Kong. When I received my first month's salary I had been so happy, for it was many times more than what I used to earn back on the farm. I wanted to give my uncle HK$2001 towards my living expenses, but he refused firmly.
"You keep the money or send it to your parents. I am not exactly wealthy but neither do I need to take your money. I am happy to have you staying here with us because you are the son of my dear sister."
I felt extremely grateful to him. Although my first impression of him had been rather strange, and some of his behavior, such as scolding his wife and children and getting drunk, made me feel uncomfortable, I had begun to respect him and love him because he was my closest relative in Hong Kong. In fact, he appeared to be very concerned about my well-being and later bought me a new bed so that I could sleep more comfortably.
One evening the dinner my aunt served was especially lavish, almost like a celebration banquet. After a drink or two my uncle turned to me. "Do you know why all this food?" he asked in confidential tones, his breath heavy with alcohol.
I had no idea so I smiled and shook my head, waiting for him to explain.
But instead of speaking he rose to his feet and went to his room. A moment later he returned carrying a pile of books and a heavy folder. The books were all on horse-racing, and the folder was full of newspaper clippings of horses.
"I've spent years researching horses," he said proudly,
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then proceeded to tell me the ins and outs of horse racing and all the specialized terminology connected with the sport. He was completely carried away in his enthusiasm.
I listened patiently to all he had to say, but deep down it made me feel sick to hear about his gambling habit. He kept talking, his eyes shining with excitement, little knowing that he was changing my feelings toward him.
"Don't you believe this nonsense!" my aunt interjected. "This is how he loses all his money!"
"Didn't I win today?" my uncle retorted defensively.
"But you lose far more often than you win."
"Ah, that's because my luck has not yet come in. You wait, one day I'll win thousands and millions!"
"Bah! That is only your dream, but don't you lead that nephew of yours into bad ways!"
"Shut up! You just want to spoil my fun and get me upset!" My uncle had the last word. His face flushed with anger. Then, quieting down, he went on to talk about his "battle results" in the horse race. He was completely up to his neck in gambling.
For me, the glitter of Hong Kong was beginning to fade. That night it had begun to show me the ugly side of its face, and as I went to bed I had many things on my mind. I still wanted to believe that Hong Kong was a perfect place, something like heaven itself, and that my uncle was a clever man, an elder whom I should respect.
The next morning he came to me apologetically. "Please forget what I said last night," he said. "Maybe I drank too much. You know, many people gamble their whole fortunes away."
I told him as nicely as possible that I was not at all interested in gambling my money on horses, but thanked him for his kind advice. In my heart I pitied his weakness, but in spite of this I still loved and respected him. However, our relationship was soon to change.
One evening as I was relaxing in front of the television, my uncle suddenly called me outside. He indicated that he wished to meet me in a nearby coffee shop. "Why couldn't
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he talk with me at home?" I wondered.
When I got there I found him sitting at a table in the corner, wearing a thick coat and looking very pale and drawn.
I sat down. Without looking up he began to share with me.
"I have something to tell you," he said, "I know that it would make your mother very sad."
As I watched him, he seemed very perplexed and distraught.
"I have been cheated," he said coldly.
"Really?" I sat up.
"Yes. I've just lost thirty thousand dollars in gambling. I was swindled."
"How did that happen?" I asked incredulously. My mind started racing. Intuitively I knew that he would get into big trouble some day, but I never dreamed that it would happen so soon!
Without any trace of emotion in his voice he described how it happened, but I was too disgusted to pay much attention to detail. My mind was running ahead. If he were unable to pay off his debt, gangsters would most likely take his home or, worse still, bring much trouble upon me, a boy who had just escaped from China.
"I don't want to get you into any trouble," my uncle's voice trailed on like that of a dying man. "If you can possibly find somewhere else to live, perhaps you should move out of here for awhile."
I studied him in silence. What could I say? I had so much enjoyed the warmth of his family since arriving here in his strange place, especially because, ever since 1968, I had been deprived of the warmth of a family, living a lonely, abandoned life away in a village on my own.
And now I would need to start over again. For this reason I felt very sad, but also felt partly responsible myself. Because of the love and care that I had received from my uncle's family during the last few months I couldn't now abandon them in their time of need. What could I do to help them?
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My uncle gave back my savings that I had asked him to look after for me. I suggested to him that he take this money to help pay off his debt. After all, I was a single person and had a regular job. But he refused it. He kept talking and talking, saying how sorry he felt for my mother, letting her down in this way by turning me out. Because of this he could never take my money. So I did not want to persuade him any further.
Now I would need the help of my friends.
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1. One Hong Kong dollar is approximately equal to U.S. 20 cents.
