I pictured a firm leader in control, barking out orders. Naturally he would be someone who looked and sounded just like Big Uncle.
Both Father and Big Uncle talked a lot about the dangers of our country’s being carved up by foreign powers. ‘‘Japan, Germany, and Russia are already establishing their spheres in the north,’’ growled Big Uncle, his face turning purple, as usual when foreigners were mentioned.
Father admitted that foreigners were arriving in greater and greater numbers. ‘‘But I believe our country can also benefit from the presence of these people. There is a lot we can learn from them.’’
One evening, when I was nine years old, Father made an announcement. ‘‘I’m going to enroll Ailin in a public school.’’
Four years earlier I would have jumped up and down with excitement. I was older now and could stay put on my stool, but I couldn’t prevent myself from breaking out into a big smile. Memories of what Hanwei had told me about public schools came rushing back. What had he studied? Something about eclipses, and water melting, and English, that strange language spoken by the Big Noses.
My parents, Second Sister, and I were eating supper with Grandmother. Grandfather was sick and had his usual bowl of gruel in bed. But Grandmother liked the sight of young faces around the table. Besides, having people over was an excuse to have the cook serve something fancy.
Grandmother frowned on hearing Father’s announcement. ‘‘You must have taken leave of your senses! Ailin will study for another year at the family school, and that’s all the education she will need. Too much studying is unhealthy for a girl!’’
There was a silence. Second Sister and I exchanged glances, and I knew we were both thinking of the same thing. She had told me that Father had had an elder sister, who came between him and Big Uncle in age. She had been unusually intelligent and was an accomplished poet. Grandfather, a dedicated scholar, had personally taught her brush writing because she had shown an early talent for it. But she had died of the dreaded lung disease when she was only fifteen, even before her marriage could be arranged. Grandmother was convinced that too much studying had caused her early death.
According to Grandmother, I looked a lot like this aunt whom I had never seen. Second Sister had told me that Father was very fond of his lost sister, and maybe he wanted to give me the chance at education that his sister had not had. He refused to believe that studying was unhealthy.
Grandmother was still unconvinced. ‘‘What sort of public school would accept girls, anyway?’’
‘‘It’s called the MacIntosh, and it’s a public girls’ school run by missionaries,’’ said Father. ‘‘A colleague in the customs office told me he was sending his daughter there.’’
‘‘A school run by missionaries? What are missionaries?’’
‘‘They preach their religion to people of other countries,’’ explained Father. ‘‘The ones operating this school are American Protestants. They belong to a branch of the Christian religion.’’
‘‘You’re thinking of sending Ailin to a school where they preach the Jesu religion?’’ cried Grandmother. ‘‘What are you wasting money on that for?’’
‘‘The school doesn’t teach the children just religion,’’ explained Father. ‘‘The students will also study the history of the world, geography, mathematics, English, and other useful things.’’
Grandmother’s eyes widened. ‘‘Useful things? I can’t imagine how a well-bred girl like Ailin could possibly find the history of the world useful!’’
‘‘Our country has been isolated too long,’’ said Father. ‘‘It’s because of our ignorance that we were humiliated by the foreign powers in the disastrous Boxer Rebellion.’’
I remembered hearing Father and Big Uncle talk about the Boxer Rebellion, which had taken place fifteen years earlier. A band of outlaws calling themselves Boxers attacked some foreigners in Beijing, the capital city. Before the Boxers were put down, a number of foreigners had been killed.
‘‘The Boxers were just some crazy lunatics,’’ snapped Grandmother. ‘‘They deserved to be wiped out!’’
‘‘But in reparation our government was forced to pay enormous sums of money to those foreign countries,’’ said Father. ‘‘Even worse, we had to give up land to the foreigners, and now there are parts of our country controlled by foreign troops. In sections of Shanghai, foreign policemen enforce their laws over our people!’’
‘‘Those foreign devils defeated us with their magic,’’ said Grandmother. ‘‘Our brave men were no match for their big guns.’’
‘‘Precisely,’’ said Father. ‘‘So among other things, we have to learn how those big guns were developed. When the Boxers laid siege to the foreign legations in Beijing, they thought they could overwhelm the foreigners by sheer numbers. They were mowed down by those guns.’’
Grandmother laughed. ‘‘And you think girls like Ailin should go to a public school and learn how to make guns? Defeat foreign soldiers?’’
I giggled, and even Father had to smile. ‘‘Of course not!’’ he said. ‘‘But we can’t think of ourselves forever as the center of the universe. Ailin and young people like her have to find out about the rest of the world.’’
‘‘I’m not going to argue with you about world affairs,’’ Grandmother said, sighing. ‘‘But just think of the practical difficulties: How is Ailin going to travel to school, for instance? Of course, with her big feet she can simply walk. But that would ruin her reputation.’’
‘‘Her reputation is already ruined because of her big feet,’’ muttered Mother.
Grandmother glared at Mother, who quickly became silent. Father had the answer. ‘‘I can have the chauffeur take her in the family rickshaw.’’
I was delighted. I always enjoyed a ride in the rickshaw with Mother. Speed was its best feature, plus the smooth ride on its two big wheels. But I didn’t often get a chance to ride the rickshaw, since Grandfather, Father, and Big Uncle—the men in the family—had first call on the vehicle for their errands.
Grandmother continued to grumble. ‘‘I never liked the rickshaw. Confounded Japanese invention! I prefer an old-fashioned sedan chair, which takes you around at a reasonable, dignified pace.’’
For myself, I didn’t like the sedan chair because it tossed me up and down, especially when the carriers decided to give me a bouncy ride.
‘‘What about meals?’’ demanded Grandmother. ‘‘Ailin would be eating with strangers. She can’t digest turnips. What if the school kitchen serves great big heaps of turnips? You never know what those foreigners take it into their heads to eat!’’
‘‘I can have lunch brought to me,’’ I said quickly. ‘‘One of the servants can carry over a stack of hot dishes and rice. All the students have their meals brought.’’
The grown-ups turned and stared at me. ‘‘How in heaven did you know that?’’ asked Mother.
‘‘Hanwei told me,’’ I said. ‘‘He goes to a public school, too, and he said his lunch was brought over, things he likes to eat.’’
There was another long silence. Whenever Hanwei’s name was mentioned, Father would look grave, Mother sad, and Grandmother furious.
Finally Grandmother threw down her chopsticks with a clatter. ‘‘Having Ailin attend school is not going to help the matchmaker. It’s hard enough when the girl has big feet, but an educated girl with big feet will be quite impossible to marry off!’’
To be accepted into the MacIntosh School, I first had to pass an entrance examination. In preparation I reviewed what I had been studying in our family school. When I was five, I had studied the Three Word Classic. Later I had gone on to other texts, some of them taken from the teachings of the masters such as Confucius and Mencius. All of these teachings we memorized. In fact, my schooling at home consisted of memorizing texts written in ancient Chinese.
On examination day we arrived at the school building, which was very different from the houses in our family compound. At home our compound
consisted of small one- or two-room buildings grouped around courtyards. The school occupied just one huge building but had dozens of rooms. I couldn’t imagine how people could walk around inside without getting lost.
But Father didn’t seem surprised by the size of the building and had no trouble finding his way to the room where I was to take the examination. A young woman invited us to sit at a table and served us tea.
A mild-looking man came in and introduced himself as an assistant headmaster. He reminded me a little of Father, and I relaxed.
Mr. Li, the examiner, started by asking me about the things I had learned in our home school. Thankful that I had done my review, I quickly recited a number of passages I had memorized.
We went on to the next part of the examination, which consisted of writing some Chinese characters. A stone slab and ink stick were brought in. I poured a few drops of water onto the slab and rubbed the stick in the water until I got a nice thick pool of black ink. Then I carefully dipped my brush and wrote the characters for family, country, and book. When the examiner smiled, I knew he liked my work, so I decided to write the hardest character I knew, which was the one for virtue. It took fifteen strokes.
Mr. Li nodded. For the first time I was grateful to our teacher in the family school, who had worked us so hard. Mr. Li then chatted with me and asked me what I hoped to learn. No adult had ever talked to me like this before.
‘‘I want to learn about the rest of the world, not just about China,’’ I declared. This was just repeating what Father had said earlier, but I realized that I really was very curious about other countries.
Suddenly I noticed that Mr. Li was looking at something behind me. A woman had quietly come into the room, and the sight of her made me catch my breath. This was my first close look at a foreigner.
Once, in the streets, I had caught a brief glimpse of a foreigner riding by in a rickshaw. My amah had whispered, ‘‘There goes one of the Big Noses!’’ By the time I’d turned around to get a better look, the rickshaw had whizzed by.
Now I stared at this foreign woman. True, her nose stuck out a bit more than normal, but it was not monstrously big. I couldn’t see whether her arms were hairy or not, since she wore long sleeves. What I could see was the hair on her head, which was the light brown of dried pine needles. Her eyes were gray, and since they bulged a little, they looked like round pebbles in pools of clear water.
I quickly peeked at the foreign woman’s feet. They were unbound. Later I would learn that no foreign women had bound feet. In the whole wide world, only Chinese women bound their feet.
Mr. Li greeted the newcomer in a language I didn’t understand, and the foreign woman responded. They must have spoken in English. Then she turned to my parents and smiled. Her smile was big and white and friendly. ‘‘How do you do?’’ she said in Chinese. ‘‘I am Miss Gilbertson. I shall be your daughter’s English teacher.’’
As I heard my parents returning greetings to the teacher, I realized that I had been accepted into the school.
With my entrance into the MacIntosh School, I began one of the happiest periods of my life. My studies included Chinese writing and literature but with less emphasis on simply memorizing and more on discussing the material. We also studied what Grandmother called ‘‘useless subjects.’’ In the class called geography, I learned about other countries and other peoples, just as Father had hoped. I was fascinated to hear about people who had skins as dark as charcoal and others who lived in houses made of ice.
Although the school was run by American missionaries, most of the teachers were Chinese men, and only one class a day was spent on religion. Still, I rather enjoyed these religion classes in which we heard what the teacher called Bible stories. They were fascinating tales about ancient peoples, and my favorite was the one about a young boy who killed a ferocious giant with a weapon called a slingshot. I loved stories in which someone small triumphed over a big bully.
As we were leaving the religion class I heard one of my classmates say, ‘‘I’d like to make a slingshot and try it out.’’
This was exactly what I was thinking myself. I turned to look and saw that the speaker was a plump girl, a little shorter than I was.
‘‘I’m Zhang Xueyan,’’ she said, introducing herself. ‘‘I hear you’re a new girl this year.’’
‘‘Yes,’’ I said. ‘‘My name is Tao Ailin. I’m nine years old.’’
‘‘Hey, we’re the same age!’’ said Xueyan. There was a brightness in her voice and a boldness in her eye that immediately appealed to me. That was how Zhang Xueyan became my closest friend in school.
Since the fees of the MacIntosh School were high, my classmates were all girls from well-to-do families. Most of the girls had bound feet, but three did not. The families of these three girls believed, as Father did, that times were changing in China and that foot binding was cruel and should be abolished. Xueyan was one of the three girls with unbound feet, and what I liked best about her was the fact that she was not ashamed of her big feet. She was proud of them.
‘‘My fiancé’s family broke our engagement because of my feet,’’ I confessed to Xueyan. ‘‘My mother is afraid nobody will marry me now.’’
Xueyan laughed. Her laughter was so loud that several of the girls walking ahead of us in the hallway turned and stared. ‘‘What’s so bad about that?’’ demanded Xueyan. ‘‘I don’t intend to get married at all. After finishing this school I’m going to study medicine and become a doctor. Then I won’t need a husband to support me.’’
I admired Xueyan. I copied the way she walked with big, confident steps, and I even tried to talk like her.
In our English-language class, however, I was the leader. I could repeat almost perfectly the sounds made by Miss Gilbertson. For years I had infuriated my relatives by the accurate way I imitated the way they talked. Now it turned out that my gift for mimicry was considered a talent.
‘‘Excellent!’’ said Miss Gilbertson when it was my turn to recite. ‘‘You have a superb ear. You can even go to a college and study to become a teacher of English!’’
I was thrilled at the idea, and I began to feel that there was hope for me after all. I didn’t have to become a nun, for I could go on to a more advanced school and study to become a teacher. ‘‘Can women become teachers, too?’’
Miss Gilbertson laughed, and I blushed. She was a teacher, and a woman. But of course she was a foreigner, so she was different. ‘‘What I mean is, can a Chinese woman become a teacher?’’ I asked.
Miss Gilbertson’s face became serious. ‘‘I don’t personally know of any Chinese women teaching, but I hear there are a few in one of the schools in Shanghai. Things are changing in China. Who knows? By the time you grow up, there may be a lot of Chinese women teachers.’’
Miss Gilbertson’s approval meant a lot to me. I could tell she loved her job, and having a student do well seemed to please her more than anything else in the world. It would be wonderful to become a teacher like Miss Gilbertson.
For three years school life occupied most of my days and most of my thoughts. At home things had changed. Father spent less time with us, for his work was very demanding. He was thinner and seemed tired. Grandmother looked anxiously at him and kept coaxing him to eat more. Often he was too tired to join us when we went to eat dinner with Grandmother. She would complain that everyone was deserting her.
It was true that there were fewer people at her table those days, since both Eldest Sister and Second Sister had gotten married and left home.
Before Second Sister left, we had a long private talk. Second Sister began to talk about silkworms, of all things. ‘‘Remember the time when I showed you a cocoon that was pale green?’’ she asked.
I remembered the occasion clearly because it was on the same day that I saw Second Sister washing her feet. ‘‘Yes,’’ I said, ‘‘you liked the colored ones and wished you had more of them.’’
‘‘I personally like the colored cocoons,’
’ said Second Sister, ‘‘but silk weavers hate them because they spoil the white uniformity. Whenever they see a colored one, they immediately take it out and burn it. Remember this.’’
I didn’t know what she meant by this reference to silkworms. Nor did I understand why she often looked sad in the days just before her wedding.
I asked Grandmother why Second Sister should be unhappy about getting married. She didn’t want to tell me at first but eventually confessed that she had the impression Mrs. Chen, Second Sister’s future mother-in-law, was cold and harsh.
Only after Second Sister had left for her husband’s home did I finally understand the significance of her remarks about silkworms. Second Sister was warning me about the danger of being different from everyone else. I wasn’t sure whether she was talking about my danger or her own in the Chen family, where her mother-in-law would come down severely on anyone who dared to show spirit.
I had been close to Second Sister and missed her company, but Little Brother was growing bigger, and I loved playing with him. He made the funniest gurgles when I chased him around our courtyard. The two of us would talk in a mixture of Chinese and English, until his amah stepped in and stopped it.
My brother had a different amah from my old one, who had been sent away when I started school. Maybe she was too dainty and frail to look after a robust little boy. She probably got a new job looking after a nice, quiet little girl with bound feet.
The troubling thing at home was Grandmother’s declining health. Grandfather had died when I was in my second year at the school, but he had been in ill health for years, and even when robust he spent most of his time secluded in his study. His death had caused little change in our lives.
Grandmother’s illness, however, was different. I still visited her as much as possible, but she was no longer her usual crusty self after a stroke had left her paralyzed on one side of her body. It wrenched my heart to see her becoming less active and growing steadily weaker.
Ties That Bind, Ties That Break Page 4
