Escape from Shanghai (4 page)

“After breakfast and without being asked, Sow Ping swept and cleaned the inside of the store, too!

“And that’s how your great grandfather got into the grocery business. The grocer was expecting his first child and Sow Ping took over the chores of a very pregnant woman.

“He worked hard and saved his money. In time, he opened his own store. And since Shanghai was growing constantly, his business grew along with it. Over time, he bought land and built more grocery stores to serve a growing city. Now our family owns
stores all over Shanghai. And it was all because of your great grandfather.”

It was cold when I woke up that morning. I could see my hot breath in the frozen air. The radiator felt like a chunk of ice. We had already used our small monthly allotment of coal. The fuel had been rationed to the civilian population ever since Japan attacked Shanghai. Sometimes, we didn’t get any coal because the Japanese war machine took it all. This was one of those times. Mom used to put my clothing under the quilt to warm them before I put them on, otherwise it’d be like wearing sheets of ice. But today wasn’t going to be like any other day.

Mom sat down on my bed to help warm my clothing. Then she carefully laid out a long canvas belt on my thick, fluffy down quilt. The seemingly weightless belt sank into the soft feathers. Slowly and with a bit of melodramatic hand movements, she unfolded the belt to reveal a series of small secret pockets. (If abracadabra were in the Chinese language, she probably would have used it.) Pretending to be a magician, she revealed a gold coin. Then with a flourish, a second one appeared. One after the other, coins, rings and diamonds glistened on the quilt.

“You are going to wear this money belt just like your great grandfather did,” she said in a matter-of-fact way. Mom slid the canvas money belt under the quilt. It took a while to warm the gold coins.

An undershirt, a wool shirt, a sweater and a quilted down overcoat covered the money belt wrapped around my belly. My Sixth Aunt said that I looked like a ball of quilted down.

For a number of nights thereafter, I asked Mom to tell me great grandfather’s story. I didn’t tire of it. But, just as I had gotten used to wearing the money belt, Mom gave me another important assignment.

She showed me a neat roll of Japanese occupation money. “When we get on the ship, the soldiers are going to look us over. This is just something that they do. When they get to us, I want you to hand this to the soldier, OK? Just hand it to him. He’ll be happy to get it.

“We’re going to outwit the Japanese,” she said confidently.

As a boost to my confidence, not only did she repeatedly tell me my great grandfather’s story, but she told me this one as well:

“Once upon a time,” Mom said sweetly, “there lived a woman who was about to have a child. She lived in terrible times. The land was poor and she was hungry all the time. She lived alone because her husband was away fighting in a war, you see.

“One day, a blind soothsayer stopped her on the street. The soothsayer put her hand on the woman’s pregnant belly and said: ‘You will give birth to a healthy, strong son. As a child, your son will slay a mighty beast. Dip your son in the beast’s blood and he will forever be invincible.’ Then the soothsayer disappeared as magically as she had appeared.

“Well, the woman gave birth to a boy, just as the soothsayer said she would. When he was a week old, he grabbed his mother’s finger with his little hand. His grip hurt her finger! As he grew, she taught him to be gentle so that he would not hurt his own mother.

“A few years later, she and her son were walking near the woods. Suddenly, a giant, fire-breathing dragon stood in their way. But the mother was prepared. She took out a sword that she carried beneath her dress and gave it to her little boy. ‘Here,’ she told him, ‘kill the dragon before he kills us.’

“The boy took the sword and with one mighty stroke, he slew the dragon! The dragon’s blood flowed freely to the ground. Quickly, the mother grabbed her son by his right heel and dipped him into the pool of dragon’s blood.

“After that nothing could hurt him. Not swords or arrows. The only place that he could be hurt was on the heel of his foot.”

My grandfather, Kai Loh “Carlos” Sun, was a slight, studious, bespectacled man with a subtle sense of humor and a quick wit. He was one of the first Chinese students to attend Cornell University, Class of 1909. He had arrived at Cornell in his traditional Mandarin robe and a three-foot-long queue down the middle of his back. He turned heads wherever he went on campus. Many Americans had never seen a Chinese man before. Especially one with long black hair braided down the middle of his back.

He had two roommates, both mid-westerners. There’s a photograph of him flanked by two tall, hefty Americans. Both of them were about six inches taller than he. In his Mandarin robe, he looked almost like a woman standing between two men. Grandpa had the typical, thin-boned Asian build.

Once his roommates realized that grandpa had a sense of humor, they began to needle him about his braided pony tail, or queue.

His long hair was difficult to wash and even more difficult to braid. Back home, there was a servant dedicated to doing the men’s hair. In America, he had to do it himself. And it took a long time to wash, dry and braid a three-foot-long queue. “Carlos, you’re
worse than a girl,” they told him. They didn’t know it, but this comment did not sit well with a man who came from a male-dominated society where women still had bound feet. Nevertheless the proverbial glove had been thrown down.

His roommates had also Anglicized my grandfather’s name from Kai Loh to Carlos. They wanted to Americanize him and make him one of their own. But as much as grandpa wanted to fit in and be one of them, he couldn’t do it.

“Under Chinese law, all Chinese men have to have a queue. You see, China was conquered by the Manchu Dynasty in 1644. The Manchu Emperor could not tell the difference between his Manchu officials and his Chinese officials. So, the Emperor decreed that under the pain of a beheading, all of his Chinese subjects must have a braided queue,” he explained. But Grandpa knew that explanation sounded ancient. 1644 was well over a hundred years before the American Revolution.

Grandpa learned to love America and its Constitution. He had hoped that one day, China would become a democracy and adopt a version of the American Constitution. After all, both Cornell and his roommates had made a huge impact on him.

Here’s what the Cornell Magazine wrote: “…Carlos Sun, of Shanghai, China, has been elected
president of the Cornell Cosmopolitan Club. Mr. Sun is a senior in Sibley College. This is the first time that a Chinaman has been the head of the organization.”

Grandpa had learned how to win a democratically run election.

Then, on November 15, 1908, the Empress Dowager Cixi died. The new Emperor, Puyi, was only two years old when he took the Dragon Throne. Grandpa figured that a corrupt and weak Manchu Dynasty could not survive without strong leadership, especially when the old-line Manchu officials were fighting among themselves for power and control.

More importantly, Dr. Sun Yat-sen, soon to be known as the George Washington of China, began to solicit financial and political support from America and other foreign nations to help him establish a democratic Republic of China.

It was then that grandpa went to the barber to cut off his queue.

His roommates were aghast and shocked by what he had done. They thought that he had risked his life because of their ribbing.

Proudly, grandpa ran his fingers through his short, American-styled hair. Then he told his roommates that it was time for China, and him, to enter the twentieth century.

A year after the Empress Dowager’s death, grandpa graduated with a Mechanical Engineering degree. Here’s what the Cornell Class Book of 1909 wrote about him:

“Kai Loh Carlos Sun, Shanghai, China. Prep school: Cook Academy. Univ. course, M.E. Years in Cornell: 4. ‘Above all nations is humanity,’ so above all the Cosmopolitan is ‘Sun.’ Adventurous, yet not rash, steady, yet not stagnant, fine-apparelled, yet not coquettish, good-mannered, yet not effeminate, he is everywhere Washingtoned by the gentlemen and Romeoed by the weaker sex. The glorious Sun is certainly not to desist from his work until every nook and corner of the globe has felt the light and warmth emanated luxuriantly from him. President of the Cosmopolitan Club.”

By the time he got home, rebellion against the feeble dynastic regime was already happening. He fit right in with the rest of the young foreign-educated rebels. They had cut off their queues, too. They would no longer obey the Manchu Emperor even on pain of death.

The sight of an army of queue-less Chinese men made a stronger impression than slogans and chants. The old-line Manchu officials were shocked and outraged by this sight. But civil disobedience was here to stay. The rebels had made an irreversible stand. And they won.

In 1911, the Republic of China was born. Dr. Sun Yat-sen became the first president. (Though the president and my grandpa had the same surname of Sun, they were not related. But the similarity would play a significant role in our survival.)

Armed with his degree from Cornell, grandpa began work on building a modern China. He built railroads. He thought that the railway system in America was what made the country wealthy and great. And he wanted the same things for China.

My grandfather’s study was almost a holy place that was forbidden to the third generation in his household. For a child to be asked to see him in his study was an awe-inspiring event. You would have had to done something unspeakably naughty to be called in front of him. In grandpa’s house, it was up to the parents to discipline their children. That rule had never been broken. Still, I was shaken by his summons.

I’ve never been in his study before. In fact, none of his grandchildren had ever been summoned to appear before him in that room. I knew because I had asked.

Grandpa opened the door and motioned to the chair that was directly in front of his massive desk. I sat down while he ambled to his ornately carved, high-backed chair. He sat down and proceeded to
talk to me as if I were an adult member of his family. From my position, I could just about see his head and shoulders. His desk was in my line-of-sight. It was both an intimidating and awe-inspiring moment.

“I have decided to send you and your mother to take care of our house in Canton. Shanghai is much too cold this time of year, don’t you think?” he said with a smile. Nobody liked living in our house with no heat. “Taking care of our house is a very important job, you know,” he said in a serious tone of voice. This had been the reason given on our travel applications to go to Canton. Then he leaned closer and whispered: “But what’s more important is taking care of your mother. You take good care of her on your trip. You obey her. And be a good boy,” he reminded me. “Always remember, you are my Number One Grandson, and the youngest soldier in China.” He looked at me for a long time. This was the theme that he had repeatedly drummed into me. And every time he said it, pride swelled in my chest. I knew I was the youngest soldier in China because my grandfather had told me so.