I have always wanted to write these stories down for myself. But lately, I find that I do many things for Kate because she's our next generation and I want her to know the story. So Kate inspired the process of capturing these stories. So one day when she can understand, she will know who we are and where we came from.
When I think of my father's journey, I always hear that deep male voice from every movie trailer I've seen. {lightening, scene of an ocean storm and Chinese men swimming} "In a world, where friendships span beyond the land, family ties are challenged and the risk of death is better than the life in front of you...a story of three brothers and their journey to freedom in America." {melodramatic music subsides} No one in Hollywood is going to make this movie anytime soon, Kate.
So this is for you.
In this trailer, there would be flashing images of my grandfather being paraded and ridiculed by the Communist regime for his supposed capitalist beliefs in the late 1950's, when his business was taken away by the government in 1954, my grandmother crying and my Dad at her side promising her they WILL see better days in 1960, stoic but heartbreaking goodbyes as the brothers are separated hundreds of miles apart for the "Down to the Countryside Movement" in 1965 and again in 1968, my father storing his treasured belongings in cookie tin containers with his friends before he sets off for his escape to Hong Kong in 1971, and my uncles and my father serving time in prison for their failed attempts to escape China. All these images float in my head from the countless stories I've heard my father and uncles share at our dinner tables growing up. People ought to know their story.
Last Christmas, I asked my Dad if he was superstitious. I remember watching these old men who are fortune tellers in Hong Kong (and in movies) outside of dusty temples who would shake these sticks with words written on them from their wooden cups. I asked my Dad if he's ever experimented with something this silly. To me, it only seemed like old women would go ask about the fates of their loved ones. Men, and rarely young men, would be into this type of "housewife" thing. "No, but...," started my Dad. He continued with a story about how in 1974 he and Uncle Sam, when they finally reunited in Hong Kong after separate attempted escapes from China, wanted to find out what a fortune teller would say about their chance to go West. Just for fun, like how boys be. My Uncle got a stick that indicated he would have a detour. My Dad got a stick that indicated a twist of fate. They just didn't know how it would play out. Back in 1973, they had started discussions on how they would eventually need to make their way to America. After escaping from China to Hong Kong, they knew that Hong Kong would eventually be returned from Britain to China in 1997. Why did they risk their lives with a seven day hike and five hour swim from from China to Hong Kong if eventually they'd be in the same position?
They decided that my Dad should try his chances in the Netherlands and Uncle Sam would aim for the U.S. Then they would figure out which place is better and reunite accordingly. But how?
In their late night discussions, my Dad remembered that back in China my grandfather had mentioned an employee in his shop that immigrated to Hawaii. He wrote a letter to my grandmother asking if they were still in contact. Miraculously, my grandmother was able to get an address and my Uncle Sam started corresponding with this family. Uncle Sam wrote that they will not be a financial burden, they just wanted a sponsor to come to the U.S. and then they would be financially independent as soon as possible. He was an ambitious young man and just needed someone to help them make that bridge to the U.S. where he could escape the misfortune of their circumstances. The couple responded and said they would be willing to help.
This "Uncle" and "Auntie" made several trips to visit us in California when we were growing up. As a child, I always knew that if it wasn't for them, my father would not be in the U.S. In addition to Uncle Sam, they would later sponsor my father. The way my Dad saw it was that they were forever our benefactors. As long as I could remember, each Christmas, he would send them $200 to thank them for the opportunity they gave him. In the 80's this was big bucks for our family of four and my Dad as the sole bread winner. When I was a teenager, my Dad told me that Auntie called one year to tell him to stop. She was going to rip up any future check he sends because my Dad has been doing this for over a decade and he returned whatever he thought he owed them. From this, I've learned that my Dad is the eternal optimist and chooses to remember people for favors they've bestowed and will let me judge later what I think of their character based on other facts that arise. It's really down to what you choose to focus on because really, do we ever get to know the whole story?
As I grew up, I also grew to know that stories are never this simple. It wasn't poof! Uncle Sam and my Dad got a sponsor and they moved to America, had children and lived happily ever after. Details often get left out when stories are told to children and as we get older we learn to ask more complicated questions that might give us a better understanding of what actually happened.
Uncle Sam would head to Hawaii first in August of 1974. And Uncle Sam's fortune telling? They were spot on. A few days before his flight to the U.S. he got appendicitis and had to reschedule his flight. At the time, he was afraid that the U.S. might change their mind if he didn't head for Hawaii right away so before fully recovering he got on the plane to enter the U.S.
And whenever good things happen to you, envy also follows. A relative of this Uncle and Auntie was annoyed that they sponsored my Uncle instead of their own son. In spite, they wrote a letter to them and said my Uncle and my Dad were with the wrong crowd (they stole money and were criminals) in Hong Kong and should not be trusted. So when he arrived in Hawaii, jetlagged, in recovery and basically broke they told him they couldn't host him for more than a week. Sounds cheesy, but those were dark days for a young man who didn't speak English well and had literally no one in a foreign land.
When my Dad made it to Hawaii in October of 1974, Uncle Sam made enough money to also buy him a mattress so that my Dad would have something soft to sleep on. My Dad would try to save 25 cents on bus fare by walking miles from place to place in search of a job. It took him two months to finally land a job cleaning for five hours a day at Palama Meat Market. In the meantime, they subsided on my Uncle's salary and ate at home. They relied on public transportation and one day Uncle Sam didn't come home on time. My Dad's heart felt tight the entire evening worrying about what may have happened to his brother. It turned out that he had taken the wrong bus and ended up at a cemetery. He muttered to himself on his bad luck ("Aiyah!") and prepared to go to bed not realizing that my Dad spent the whole evening wondering if he'd ever see him again when he thought they were finally reunited in America.
And through these rough times in Hawaii, my Dad still has stories of making new friends and setting up a mah jong table at the beach. Locals would come and see what these Chinese boys were doing with this obnoxious game out on the Hawaiian sand. They bought Aloha shirts, hung out at Ala Moana Beach Park, took pictures at Kapiolani Park and tried to fit in. The Uncle and Auntie kept their distance, but slowly started to see that these boys were good boys.
