“If one does not plow, there will be no harvest.”
1962 – 1966
Suk Hing’s formal education ended after her fifteenth birthday. Sixteen was the oldest the government allowed anyone to stay in school, putting them to work as soon as they reached this age, no matter how much aptitude they showed for education. The government didn’t want men and women educated to the point where they might think for themselves: they wanted workers.
For all that, staying at school for another few months seemed pointless to Suk Hing. Her family desperately needed money. It was 1962, and despite the changes made, the situation was too far gone to see much improvement. As Suk Hing matured, she learned more of how the government used fear and poverty to control the people. She also learned that it had become virtually impossible for anyone to really earn a decent living; the government kept wages low and capped everyone’s earnings at measly amounts.
Kin Mou had returned from the city, giving the family another mouth to feed. The government ordered him to sign up as a farmer the same as his sister. Sitting with Suk Hing in the bland, under-furnished house, Kin Mou waited until Nim Ping Kan retired for the night before broaching a difficult subject.
“Suk Hing, can you keep a secret?”
“Of course, brother,” she replied, curious. They had been apart for so long that Suk Hing didn’t exactly consider them close, and she was surprised her brother wished to confide in her with something that sounded so serious.
“I don’t want to stay here and I don’t want to farm. I am tired of the regime, tired of the poverty, starvation and death I see every day.”
Suk Hing was startled. Although she felt the same way, no one ever dared speak out against the government. She wondered if it was a trick; if someone had spotted her contempt and disbelief in the propaganda that had been served up to her at school. Perhaps her brother was trying to get her to admit her distaste for the government, and then the soldiers would come and arrest her. Not quite trusting the situation, she remained silent, gesturing with her hand for her brother to continue.
“There are no opportunities. I spent all that time at school, and for what? To labour in the fields of the state-run farms, earning a pittance, and receiving a certificate giving me the right to buy food? Why should any government be allowed that much power, to decide who is allowed to buy food and who isn’t?”
“But what else can you do?” she asked, fearful of the consequences of his impassioned speech. “Think of the outcome if you refuse.”
“I have already refused.”
Suk Hing gasped; she was shocked to hear that a member of her own family had taken such a stand against the system that ruled their lives.
“What happened?” she asked in almost a whisper, as if afraid of the question as well as the answer.
“They laughed, and said I would soon change my mind once I was starving.”
Kin Mou removed his food certificate from his pocket to show her. Suk Hing stared glumly at the large red letters stamped across the certificate: “DENIED.” There wasn’t a single place in China that Kin Mou could legally buy food.
“What are we going to do?” she asked sadly, knowing that they would now have to stretch their daily ration of three ounces of rice to accommodate him. They couldn’t let him starve, but they would all have a little less now.
“Don’t worry; I won’t be a burden for long. I’m going to Hong Kong where people have a chance, where they can work and earn a fair wage, enough to live, not barely exist.”
Suk Hing knew enough to know that the island was under British rule, exempt from the harsh communist regime of mainland China. Despite her dislike of the political situation, she had never taken the time to consider the implications of the different situation in Hong Kong. Hearing her brother talk of it now, the idea both terrified and thrilled her.
“How will you get there?”
“Swim,” Kin Mou replied simply.
“That’s crazy!” A shudder went through Suk Hing as she thought of the dangers, the gruelling journey and the risk of capture.
“You’ll never make it. You’ll be caught and sent to jail, shot, or drown. Please reconsider?”
Her brother shook his head. “My mind is made up. Besides, Dad made it and so did Li; he’s there now, waiting for me to join him.”Kin Mou grinned at his sister’s shocked face. If the government found out the family were in touch with their eldest brother, who was now considered a traitor, they would all be severely punished, probably by a prison sentence at best.
“How did he get there? How do you know he’s alive?”
“Do you remember Chang Chang?”
“Your old school friend? We met a few times.”
“Best you don’t know too much, little sister, but she and her family have connections. They all make a living from helping escapees, so can set up safe houses along the way on quite a few of the popular routes. I’ll ask her to set some up for me, the same as she did for Li. Now, don’t ask any more and promise me you will never speak of this conversation again,” he said as he rose to retire, ruffling her cropped, jet-black hair.
She watched his retreating back for a second before blurting out, “I’m coming with you!”
Her brother turned and looked at her sadly.
“You’re too young and too delicate. Look at yourself, Suk Hing; you’d never make it. Anyway, you need to stay and look after mother. I’m sorry, little sister, but your place is here by her side.”
Suk Hing hung her head, knowing her brother spoke the truth, but resenting the implications that she was too weak to make it.
Suk Hing arose at five a.m. the next morning to complete a few household chores and prepare a meagre breakfast for her family. At six, she left the house and joined the working population of China for the first time.
Others were already in the street, making small talk in the cool morning air as they made their way to the town square. Among the steadily growing crowd Suk Hing noticed her friend Jin Jing who, being slightly older, had already been pulled from school and sent to work in the fields.
As they walked together, Suk Hing tried to discern what she could about what was in store for her.
“What happens when we get to the town square?”
“There’s a chalkboard there with all the different farms and plantations in the area listed on it. Our names are written next to the place we are to work today. Soldiers with huge guns guard the board to ensure it isn’t tampered with, and to make sure we all head in the right direction without complaint.”
As they walked, Jin Jing had to raise her voice to be heard over the speakers, which were concentrated in the town centre. Suk Hing reluctantly listened to the first message of many that day.
“Comrade Mao Zedong is the greatest Marxist-Leninist of our era. He has inherited, defended, and developed Marxism–Leninism with genius, both creatively and comprehensively, and has brought it to a higher and completely new stage.”
On arrival in the town square, Suk Hing was shocked to see the reality of the situation before her, belying everything she had just heard.
The people that gathered in the square beside her were not well fed and cared for by their new administration and supposed employment. Forced to become peasant farmers, everyone appeared thin and sickly, some almost skeletal, bones sticking out from every part of their body, their cheeks sunken and their eyes circled with dark rings.
The propaganda made the state farms and jobs sound like a wonderful idea. They stated that no one should be entitled to hold too much personal wealth while others went without, claiming that their seizure and redistribution programs would benefit everyone. It was clear from what she had seen that morning that those who had been poor before the Communist take over seemed no better off, and those who had been wealthy were struggling with the continual hours of forced hard labor. Away from the isolation of her grandmother’s home, Suk Hing was even more convinced that the government were fools and liars.
It was a pitiful sight, and Suk Hing now had firsthand experience of the flawed ideology that her teachers had tried to drum into her with so much passion in school. The only ones who looked strong and healthy were the soldiers that continually watched the townspeople. It was obvious that whatever had been seized and whatever was being produced was going in that direction first, ensuring that the government and all its employees were getting the lion’s share of everything, while the rest were left to suffer and struggle.
No matter what people had been in their former lives, they were all equal now in the soldiers’ eyes. Equal not as citizens, but as common, peasant “scum,” nothing more than animals to be worked as hard as they could be until they died from exhaustion and starvation. Suk Hing could read it in their mocking and sneering faces and averted gazes, and in the downtrodden manner of the people awaiting their chance to see where they were required to head to that day.
Jin Jing pushed her way to the board. She searched for both their names, and then returned to Suk Hing’s side with a smile on her face, her cheerfulness a great comfort in the midst of such misery.
“Great news, we’re working at the same place today, so I can show you the ropes. Come on, we’d best get a move on. If we’re late by even a minute one whole hour gets deducted from our wages.”
“Where are we working?” Suk Hing panted as her friend grasped her arm and pulled her along at a rapid pace, rushing to their employment for the day along with the rest of the group.
“The paddy fields at the southern outskirts of town. Now come on! There’s no time to dawdle.”
“Look at these people, half of them don’t look fit to do a day’s work,” Suk Hing hissed to her friend as they walked.
“They don’t have a lot of choice, do they?” Jin Jing replied quietly.
“What happens if they get really sick and can’t work?”
“The government has its own way of dealing with them. Suk Hing, we shouldn’t be talking about this.”
“Tell me,” she demanded. She knew that the hardship she had suffered in her earlier life was nothing compared to what she faced now. She needed to fully understand the situation. She had read between the lines and seen through the propaganda she had been forced to swallow at school, but now she wanted facts, the absolute truth underneath the pretty picture the government tried so hard to paint.
“If someone gets really sick, they find an excuse to revoke their food certificate, some invented offence against the government. They soon die.”
Suk Hing’s hand flew to cover her mouth in shock. “That’s horrible!”
Jin Jing shrugged. “It’s the way things are now. It saves them being a drain on resources, a quick and easy way to get rid of them so that the rations can go to people still able to carry out their duties. It also means that they don’t cost the government money in healthcare. Look at us all, do you really think we have a choice in the matter? We’re not exactly strong enough to hold an uprising and fight, are we?”
“I can’t believe this.”
“You will, the first time someone takes ill or dies in the field right beside you. When you see them hauled away and laid in a pile for the wagons to pick up, lying there like nothing more than an empty sack, thrown onto the wagon in heaps like rotten animal carcasses, you’ll believe it all then.”
“Does that happen a lot?”
“All the time. The wagon makes its rounds of all the farms and the town on a daily basis to take away the dead.”
“This is awful; there must be something we can do.”
“I wish there was, but we are just two girls, what can we do? Now please, Suk Hing, stop asking me questions about this. I feel as badly as you do, but we are powerless, and talking about it will only get us into trouble.”
Suk Hing glanced around her. “There aren’t any soldiers close by; they’re at the front and back of the group.”
Jin Jing shook her head. “You have so much to learn, my friend. Thinking that way is going to land you in jail, or publicly beaten as an example. It’s not just the soldiers that are a danger to you. Anyone listening to us could run to the nearest soldier and report our conversation.”
“Why would people do that? Surely we should stick together?”
“You would think so, but that isn’t how it works, at least not anymore. You’ll understand it better once you have been doing this for a while. The work is tremendously hard, the pay is diabolical, and the rations are never enough. Extreme poverty and hunger does strange things to people, Suk Hing; out here it is every man and woman for themselves. People will lie, cheat, bargain, plead, steal, anything they can to survive. It’s as if we have been left only with the basic instinct to stay alive, whatever that takes. If someone thinks they have something or some knowledge that will ingratiate them with the soldiers, even for a little while, they are going to use it to their best advantage.”
“There have to be some good people left,” Suk Hing muttered, trying to take in every terrible fact she had learned on her very first morning as a member of the working population.
“There probably are, but finding them isn’t easy. Remember: you can trust no one, not even your own family or closest friend. These are the times we live in now. You might as well get used to it, put a smile on your face, and deal with it. Whatever you feel inside, keep it there and get on with what you are required to do. Don’t make trouble, Suk Hing; nothing good can ever come from attracting attention to yourself. I’m begging you; let’s change the subject as I don’t want to get beaten to a bloody pulp and spend the night in a jail cell for being an agitator.”
The girls carried out the rest of their journey in silence, Suk Hing in quiet contemplation, and Jin Jing relieved that her friend had stopped raising taboo subjects. It was a long walk but they finally arrived at the rice farm, where they had to stand in line to each be given a field number and the equipment they would need for the work. As farmers were moved around from job to job, never in steady employment, they didn’t own the things they needed to work in the various fields and relied on the overseers of the farms to provide them. This was mostly done in silence, or as few words as possible, but Jin Jing shocked Suk Hing by stepping out of line to approach the farm manager and ask if she could stay close to Suk Hing that day, as she was new and would need instruction. The manager shrugged, swapping Suk Hing’s number with another worker. It saved him the time and effort of assigning someone to show the tiny new girl the ropes.
The girls got back in line together and were each handed a large, heavy sickle and bales of thick twine. The equipment was old and not in the best condition, but the sickles were kept very sharp. Jin Jing warned Suk Hing to be careful as they made their way to their assigned field, where the girls were positioned by another manager at the beginning of a row. Following Jin Jing’s lead, Suk Hing removed her shoes. The deep water needed to grow the rice had been drained, and the muddy soil that remained squelched between Suk Hing’s toes as she took her first step onto the field. Some people were wearing thick-soled sandals held onto their feet by a single piece of fabric across the middle of their foot. Suk Hing stared at the sandals longingly as the cold, wet mud clung to the soles of her feet. The plants, too, were very wet, and Suk Hing soon found herself soaked through as she stooped to work amongst them, cutting the plants low down with the sickle. She struggled with the sweeping motion required to cut a decent amount, finding the knife strange and unwieldy in her small, inexperienced hands. After a few hours’ practice and constant advice from Jin Jing, Suk Hing eventually became accustomed with the awkward motion, and was able to keep up, cutting decent-sized bundles, tying them up with thick string, and laying them down to be collected behind her.
The shift seemed to last forever. By the end, Suk Hing’s back ached from stooping, her arms throbbed from the weight of the sickle, and her hands were cracked and raw from handling the wet plants. All through the day she had been plagued by the giant mosquitos that thrived in the damp environment. Angry red bite marks covered her body, and the sharp plants had left cuts and abrasions over her hands, arms, and legs. She coughed violently as she walked with Jin Jing to hand in her equipment, and was surprised by the pain that shot through in her chest. She had always been healthy, and this sudden struggle to breathe came as a nasty shock.
“That’s the dust mites and mold spores that live in the plants,” her friend explained. “If you can afford sandals and a mask, you’d be much better off.”
Suk Hing shook her head, knowing those were luxuries her family could never afford. Her friend nodded understandingly and dropped the subject, returning to her teaching.
“Our first shift finishes at one p.m. Then we have a break before we need to return to the board and see where we have to work for the rest of the afternoon. I don’t have much lunch to eat so it doesn’t take long. You need to wash those cuts. There are parasites that thrive in the wet fields, and you have to be very careful to avoid infection. They can kill you if you’re not strong enough to fight them off, but we’re young and healthy and have the best chance. It doesn’t hurt to take precautions, though, as you know now what happens if you get too sick to work.”
“How long do we have for our lunch break?” Suk Hing asked, glossing over her friend’s allusion to their earlier conversation. She needed some quiet time to think that over and come to terms with it before she spoke of it again.
“Our next shift begins at two-thirty p.m., so we have to get back to the board by two at the latest, as we don’t know how far we’ll have to walk to the next place. Let’s find a place to wash and eat lunch. Did you bring anything?” Jin Jing asked, looking at Suk Hing’s lack of pockets.
The morning’s labour had made Suk Hing ravenous. Hunger gnawed at her insides, but she had a feeling it was a sensation she was going to have to get used to. “I thought … I thought perhaps our employers would feed us.”
Jin Jing laughed at her friend’s naivety. “As if anyone has food to spare like that! I’ll share today, but make sure you bring your own with you tomorrow.”
After finding a place to wash their wounds, the two girls sat on the ground, resting their aches and pains and drying off their wet clothes. Jin Jing plunged into the deep folds of her ankle-length skirt and victoriously revealed a minuscule sandwich, breaking off half and handing it to Suk Hing. Suk Hing looked at the morsel and instantly felt guilty.
“Are you sure?”
“Go on, eat it. I can’t have you passing out on me this afternoon, can I?”
Suk Hing gratefully accepted and swallowed the food in one small bite. It barely made a dent in the hunger pangs she was experiencing, but she was very grateful to her friend for sharing what she had. It proved that her earlier suspicions had been right; there were some good people left in this world. No matter what circumstances they were forced to endure some would always retain a level of human decency and empathy. Despite everything else she had lost, she desperately wanted to hold on to those.
After their slight lunch, the girls rose stiffly to their feet and headed back to the chalkboard in the town square to receive their next assignment of the day.
“Yes!” Jin Jing shouted gleefully. “We’re picking peaches this afternoon!”
“Why is that so good?” Suk Hing asked, slightly confused. Picking fruit wasn’t exactly the pastime of her dreams.
“You have no idea how good it feels to stretch out your back in the afternoon after stooping all morning. Not to mention the earth is dry and so are the plants. It’s still very hard work, especially carrying the full baskets and climbing for the higher fruit, but at least you don’t get soaked through. Other than falling, insect stings are the worst hazard, so it’s much better than working in the rice fields.”
“In other words, you’re telling me that we have to be grateful for small mercies”
“Exactly!”
The girls laughed as they headed to the next farm. This day was hard on Suk Hing, but having her friend by her side made coping easier.
The girls stayed close for the rest of the afternoon and chattered as they worked, which helped pass the time. They were closely watched, but as long as their hands moved as quickly as their tongues, they wouldn’t be reprimanded.
Suk Hing learned that, she would earn around 75 yuan per year. She wondered how in the world she and her family would survive on this paltry sum, and what else she could possibly do but grin and bear it. The others had to, so she knew she had no choice, but still, the meagre pay shocked her.
At the end of that first day, Suk Hing ached all over. She felt muscles in places she didn’t know muscles existed; and all of them throbbed and burned.
“I’ll be so glad to get home.”
“Oh, you can’t go home yet,” Jin Jing informed her. “We have to attend the meeting.”
Suk Hing groaned. “What meeting?”
“You’re a member of the working population now; government meetings after work are obligatory for all of us. Don’t worry, you don’t have to contribute, just stand and look like you are listening, and cheer and applaud in all the right places.”
Dispirited, Suk Hing followed Jin Jing to the meeting point, where they, along with the rest of town, were forced to endure an hour of speeches either standing or sitting on the ground. The meetings were a more intense variant of the propaganda she had heard in school. Suk Hing considered these little more than brainwashing, an attempt to force communist notions upon the people, thus ensuring they accepted them and didn’t revolt. She had to be careful not to let her expression give away the anger she felt at the by now too familiar rhetoric extolling the virtues of labour that were directed at the poor, miserable people around her, people whose only desire was go home and rest their aching bodies.
Alternately standing and sitting through the hour-long speeches had further stiffened Suk Hing’s own throbbing muscles. Her body screamed as she attempted to get it moving again for the long walk home. Closing her eyes to shut out the pain, she forced herself on, eventually arriving back at the dreary house to carry out the rest of her chores. Only then, could she finally rest.
Over time, Suk Hing learned to endure the gruelling hours of manual labor she was subjected to each and every day. She discovered that picking sugar cane was by far the worst of the jobs available to those in the town forced to be farmers. The plants grew tall, some up to ten-feet-high. Tough and thick, the cane’s integument had to be trimmed with care and precision close to the ground using a machete-style knife. The shoots themselves had edges like saws, which cut her small body all over. The cut stalks then had to be tied into long, heavy, bundles and carefully placed for the collectors. Working so low to the ground for hours at a time was backbreaking. To straighten up for any length of time was to stop working, catching the attention of the unforgiving supervisors that oversaw the harvest. The result was a verbal, or physical, reminder to get back to work.
She also learned to keep a placid expression on her face during the nightly meetings, hiding her contempt for the government. It was the one thing she longed to discuss, but could never take the risk. She had come to know many people in the town, making friends with those who gathered at the chalkboard in the early hours of the morning. The workers passed the time with each other on the jobs where it was permitted or possible, and Suk Hing hadn’t come across anyone with whom she couldn’t get along whilst working alongside them. The people remained friendly and pleasant in the face of adversity, at least on the surface.
There was hardly any time for socializing outside working hours. Initially, she was too exhausted and had too much to do at home. She never heard anyone express as much as slight disillusionment with the people in charge. To be overheard by the wrong person would mean imprisonment, corporeal punishment, perhaps even death. To speak out was to be branded a traitor, which carried the harshest penalties. Nobody would risk it where there might be government sympathizers in their midst. Suk Hing couldn’t talk to her family about it either; they could easily be punished if they were suspected of knowing how she truly felt. With no chance to express her feelings, either at work or at home, they festered inside her and grew more powerful.
Just after Suk Hing turned sixteen, her brother Kin Mou disappeared. She knew from their earlier, secret conversation that he must have made his escape attempt. She awaited news of his whereabouts with both fear and trepidation. She wanted to hear that he had made it, for the idea gave her hope for the future, but she was also afraid to receive word from him under the watchful eye of the soldiers. Correspondence with a traitor was strictly forbidden and carried stiff penalties for all members of a family if any were caught in the act. She was devastated when she finally heard whispers that Kin Mou had been captured en route and was now imprisoned with no visitation rights. She was desperate to talk to him, to learn of his attempt and ensure he was all right. She never had the opportunity, as on his release he was ordered to work on a commune, far from the family home. He had been forced to become just another peasant farmer on a state-run farm like the government had wanted him to be all along, except now he was also branded a traitor.
The harvest was nearly over and farm work was beginning to slow. In an effort to supplement the family income, Suk Hing managed to find a job at a swimming pool. Suk Hing was pleasantly surprised to learn that she was free to use the pool after her shift for free. Swimming at once kept Suk Hing’s body supple and eased the terrible aches and pains caused by the long hours of labouring in awkward positions. She began to feel healthier, though the constant, gnawing hunger remained.
One night, she looked at her small frame in the mirror in her bedroom. Her brother’s words echoed in her mind: “You’re too small, you’d never make it.” Although malnourishment kept Suk Hing small and slender, she had nevertheless developed muscles in her arms and legs, and her body was toned. Under the circumstances she was in the best shape she could possibly hope to achieve. The breath of an idea began to form in her mind. Initially, she pushed it aside, ignoring the small murmur, but it gradually became a voice, then a shout, inside her head.
She began listening to the voice, taking it more seriously, giving it due thought and consideration. She stepped up her swimming regime despite the exhaustion and the constant work and chores.
By the time she was eighteen, Suk Hing had come to a final decision. The country was showing no signs of improvement, the government holding hard and fast to their ideological commitments, and the people too afraid to question or stand against them. She needed to get away. She had to attempt the journey to Hong Kong. She risked capture, or even death in the endeavour, but it had to be worth the risk. There was nothing for her here anymore, except years of labour leading to an early grave from malnutrition and starvation.
That night, Suk Hing dreamt of her brother. In the dream, Kin Mou stood at the edge of her bed and in the darkness he repeated his final admonition: you’d never make it. The words sent a chill through Suk Hing’s entire body.
“I’m not making it here, Kin Mou. No one is.”
“Do you really think you’ll succeed where I failed?”
“I don’t know. I have to try.”
Kin Mou smiled, and repeated something half forgotten from their childhood:
“There is a book called Qi Xie, a record of marvels. We have in it these words. ‘In the Northern Ocean there is a fish, the name of which is Kun. . . It changes into a bird with the name of Peng. When this bird rouses itself and flies, its wings are like clouds all round the sky. When the
sea is moved so as to bear it along, it prepares to remove to
the Southern Ocean. The Southern Ocean is the Pool of
Heaven.’”
By morning, Suk Hing had decided to leave.