“To hit dog with meat bun”
July 7th, 1966
Suk Hing’s homecoming turned out to be far from welcoming. As she walked through the streets to her mother’s house, people she had known for years refused to acknowledge her. They lowered their heads, crossed the street, and generally did anything they could to avoid speaking or associating with her in any way. As she entered the house, she found that her mother also had little to say to her.
Suk Hing could practically feel the disappointment radiating from her mother as she entered the room.
“Hello,” Suk Hing said quietly.
“So, you’re back then?”
“Yes, if that’s okay?”
“Might as well be.”
That was the full extent of their conversation that first night. Her mother never said a word about her leaving, or asked a single question about what had happened to her in the time that she had been gone. Suk Hing was relieved: it wasn’t a story she necessarily wanted to tell. She had done what she had to do, endured what she had to endure, but in the end, she had failed.
The next day, Suk Hing resumed her routine of heading to the town square to see if she was on the list of workers assigned jobs for the day. She found that the situation was the same as the night before, even with those she knew well. Nobody would speak to her. Through the crowd, one familiar face accidentally caught Suk Hing’s eye, though only for a moment. And in that moment Suk Hing watched Jin Jing’s face twist into a grimace of pain and sorrow and her eyes glassy with tears, before, like the rest of the townspeople, she lowered her gaze and turned away. Suk Hing didn’t hold any ill feelings toward her; she couldn’t. Her friend had risked enough to help her in the first place, and Jin Jing had contacts, and her own family, to protect. She couldn’t possibly associate with Suk Hing anymore. It made Suk Hing sad, but it was to be expected.
The small crowd assembled around the chalkboard parted to allow Suk Hing to make her way through. No one wanted to come too close to her for fear of being accused of talking with her. As she scanned the board, she was disappointed to find her name wasn’t on the list. As a defector, she knew that her food certificate would be revoked, stamped with the large red ‘DENIED’ across the page, but now it seemed she had lost the right to work as well. Given communism’s commitment to the notion that one’s very humanity is defined by productive labour, losing the right to work would be perceived as deeply shameful. Suk Hing couldn’t have cared less about how she may have appeared in the eyes of the government, but she did care about how she would be seen by her friends, her mother, and the community. It wasn’t only that she could no longer earn her keep, however meagre; losing the right to work meant that she was effectively cut off from any further contact with anyone who could possibly aid in her future plans to escape. Dispirited, outcast, Suk Hing made her way home.
She had only travelled a dozen steps before noticing the soldier following her at a short distance. As she reached her mother’s door, Suk Hing saw him reverse course back toward the town square, and knew that her steps were very likely to be watched from now on. The contradiction burned within her: as an “undesirable” she was to be cut off, isolated from everyone, yet she would never be left alone. Her mother glanced up at her as she walked back in.
“No work?”
Suk Hing shook her head unhappily. “I’m sorry.”
“It was to be expected, I suppose. I don’t blame you, Suk Hing, but I wish that you had made it. Coming back here is not a good idea, and is bad for both of us.”
“Where else can I go without a food certificate? Why it is so bad for you? What’s happened since I’ve been gone?”
“Much the same as what happened to you out there this morning, I suspect. People have not been kind to me. They assumed that, as your mother, I had to know of your plans and was covering for you. I went through several interrogations by the guards and have been shunned by the people here.”
“But I made sure you knew nothing!” Suk Hing gasped.
“I know, and I thank you for that much at least. However, most wouldn’t believe it, and they were afraid to talk to me in case they or their families were implicated. Now that you have been caught and have returned here, eliminating all doubt concerning your disappearance. I can only imagine that the situation will get worse. There is nothing to be done about it except get on with life, which is what I have been doing, and what you will have to do, for the moment.”
As Suk Hing listened to Nim Ping Kan’s words, she felt ashamed that she had brought this treatment and isolation upon her mother. There was nothing she could do about it now, though, and she couldn’t help but notice the phrase her mother had added at the end: for the moment. It was almost as though her mother was encouraging her to try again, to get out if she could and make a new life elsewhere. Suk Hing knew she would never tell her when she did, but the unspoken understanding was already in place between them.
Suk Hing spent the rest of the day in the house helping her mother, only venturing out once to go to the market with her. It was not a pleasant outing. The townspeople seemed to shy away from them, as if they carried some awful, highly contagious disease. People would cross the street to avoid passing close by and no one would walk too closely behind or in front, either slowing down or speeding up to keep a good distance away from the so-called traitors.
Although none of the townspeople would as much as look at them, they were closely watched. Every step they took was monitored by a guard, who made no effort to remain secret. Whichever one spotted them leaving their home followed them, ready to report anything even remotely suspicious or use any excuse to humiliate them in public.
Suk Hing and her mother didn’t speak to each other during the outing, knowing that their every word was being overheard and noted. Even buying the goods was done in single utterances, the vendors handing over the items in silence. The only words spoken was the price they required. If they could get away with saying nothing at all, they did.
Turning away from the market with their small amount of supplies in their basket, their path was suddenly blocked by a soldier.
“Let me see that basket,” he demanded.
Suk Hing held out the basket so he could clearly see the contents. There wasn’t much in it, only small packages containing small amounts of goods, which was all they could afford. The contents could clearly be seen from where he stood, but he shouldered the rifle that had previously been pointing at them and grabbed the basket from her hand. He took each item out, examined it, and then tossed it on the ground before moving on to the next. Once every item was on the ground, he grunted and threw the basket down to join them.
“Pick it up,” he grunted, taking a step back and training the rifle on Suk Hing again as she crouched to gather the scattered goods and place them back in the basket.
Suk Hing felt humiliated, but not afraid. As she crouched to gather the goods scattered across the ground, humiliation gave way to anger and frustration. How dare they force her to live in a country she didn’t want to, she thought, how dare they treat her like a criminal for simply trying to leave!
She rose slowly, catching her mother’s eyes as she did so. Although her mother was hiding it well, Suk Hing could see the glint of defiance in her eyes. At that moment, she was incredibly proud of her mother. She was an aging woman, not in the best of health, and had been shunned by the community from the moment Suk Hing had left, yet she had not succumbed. She did not tremble in fear and quake under the scrutiny of the soldiers, did not despair in her isolation from the townsfolk, and did not seem to blame Suk Hing for her plight.
In that fleeting glance, they spoke a thousand words to each other. They spoke of all their hatred for the government, how it had ruined their country and their people, of what it had done to their family and their lives. They spoke of how proud they were of each other, and encouraged each other to stay strong. Outwardly, they were powerless, but inwardly, they would never be broken by the hated regime.
Suk Hing and her mother walked slowly side by side, neither glancing at the soldier as they passed. He didn’t prevent them, but he followed. As they reached their front door, they heard him call out.
“You!”
Suk Hing turned and looked coldly at him, saying nothing, wondering what fresh torment he had dreamt up for them.
“Report for work tomorrow morning.”
She turned and walked into the house, giving no indication that she had even heard. Once inside, they stayed silent for several minutes, putting away their purchases, just in case the soldier had crept close to listen to her reaction to the outing.
Suk Hing crept along the tiled floor to the door and listened. She could hear nothing, no small sounds of movement that would give away a position, no breathing, just empty silence. Turning from the door, Suk Hing entered the front room and sat down beside her mother.
“I had thought that with so many fleeing, so many captured and so many dying, that farmers would be scarce. They need every able-bodied person they can out in the fields, considering that it is time for harvest. I am glad I will be able to work again. We need the money.”
“It won’t be like before,” her mother warned.
“What do you mean?”
“Before, you had friends who you shared your day with, the time passed quicker and the work was made easier by companionship and perhaps even laughter, if such a thing can be found in these dark days. Now, you will be an outcast. No one will show you the ropes, or teach you time- and labor-saving techniques. No one will stand by your side and work with you as a team. You will be completely on your own, and the days will be long and the work even more back breaking due to the isolation.”
“I can live with that, provided I can earn money.”
“It won’t only be that, Suk Hing. The jobs they will find for you will be the most unpleasant jobs they can possibly think of. What they really want to do is flog you in the streets, or publicly execute you, but they are still trying to convince people to love the government, so they can’t go that far. They will find other ways to break you, though.”
“Never!” Suk Hing declared. “They are nothing but cowards and bullies. They will not break me. They can break my body all they want, but they will not break my will.”
Her mother said nothing, but gave a small nod, and the two worked silently to prepare the evening meal. It was a dish of the cheapest produce available, soybean and turnips. Once the vegetables had been prepared, Suk Hing would stir-fry them together, and attempt to make it palatable by adding spices. It didn’t work; the dish was disgusting, but Suk Hing would not give the government the satisfaction of starving to death, so they both choked down the meal as best they could. Neither of them ever looked forward to it, no matter how hungry they were. Suk Hing knew that earning the paltry wage as a farmer again would not help their food situation. With her food certificate denied, the household could still only purchase rations for one, which was being split between two. Nothing could change that now; she had made her bed and had to lie in it. Her mother would be better off with her gone, and having her rations to herself. It only made Suk Hing more determined to try again.