Uncle sent me to Mr Fung and I returned with a basket of fresh vegetables and even some plants with blossoms. I had not seen these plants in the garden, but I know that Mr Fung is growing another secret garden of seedlings nearby, ‘in case there is emergency and we lose main garden like before’. These blossoms are so beautiful and they have a very strong sweet smell. Uncle is very pleased.
‘Blossoms are very special,’ said Uncle. ‘They are symbols of rebirth and new growth, very important at New Year time. It is good that we have new blossoms from New Gold Mountain for this New Year.’ Uncle has made a beautiful flower decoration to hang at the front of our tent.
Tonight at the evening meal I set an extra place.
‘What is the extra place for?’ questioned Uncle, as the men gathered at the table for our New Year’s Eve feast.
‘For Baba,’ I replied quietly.
‘Good boy,’ said Uncle. ‘You remember the ancestors—they are still here with us. Good boy. Your Baba would be very proud. Soon you will be back with your family in your village.’
We had firecrackers in our village last year. That was heavenly. The whole sky exploded and we danced and clapped and cheered. Who knew then that my Baba and Third Uncle would be dead and that I would be stranded here? We would not have been so joyous had we known this. Tonight also, we let off crackers to welcome in the New Year. I think that the new Chinese miners in our Gully brought the crackers all the way from Sydney Town or even China. They have just arrived at our camp, and just in time to celebrate New Year. It is lucky that it is Saturday night and the Big-Noses are having their usual drinking party—they will not trouble us tonight, I think.
Last year in China the whole family gathered together with our grandparents, Goong Goong and Paw Paw. We had such a feast, with peanuts and bamboo shoots and dried bean curd. And the fish we had, that Mama cooked in her fragrant sauces. Baba offered Goong Goong the fish head, which he sucked completely. We had a whole chicken—good for prosperity and unity. When it was placed on the table and we were so surprised that we were speechless. Where did this delicacy come from and how did we not know? And noodles that we children could suck till our mouths were filled! Goong Goong explained that uncut noodles were symbols of longevity.
The next morning, on New Year’s Day, we children received our red packet envelopes with the gift inside from Baba and Mama. (I wonder if Sister still has mine hidden beneath the floor of our house.) Then we walked around the village to visit our relatives and friends. I won’t receive any red packets tomorrow morning. Uncle says that all the Chinese people will gather for a very special New Year’s Feast, but I don’t think that it will be as filling or as sumptuous as last year in our village. It is now very late. Uncle has allowed me to remain with the men tonight, but now I am too tired to listen. Uncle and the Bosses are sitting together outside. Some of the other men have joined them, telling stories of China and of times before I was born.
Sunday, February 10
Today we celebrated New Year, and Uncle surprised me—he gave me a red packet with a small piece of gold inside! He said that is my start. I can use it for my boat trip back to China, or maybe for something special. I am thinking that something special would be very nice. I am now thinking that I could stay here with Baba. Uncle says that our ancestors are with us wherever we are, and Baba is buried here in New Gold Mountain. Uncle said that maybe, if enough gold is earned and I would like to, we can send Baba’s bones back with me to China—but Baba might like to stay here, and I could stay here with him too. Maybe this is where I belong now. Maybe this is where I will live.
‘Kung Hei Fat Choi. It is the Year of the Rooster,’ Uncle said, ‘and for you this is a very auspicious year.’
Uncle smiled, and then he laughed.
‘What is funny?’ I questioned him. ‘Have I done something wrong?’
‘No, Shu Cheong. You are a good boy. You are learning well. No. I was thinking that the European miners will be confused today, because not only are they not mining, but we are not mining either. They might think that we have all slept in after too much celebration last night. Or maybe they think that we are all going home to China.’
And then the biggest surprise of all happened. Uncle and the Bosses were able to create a sumptuous New Year feast, even though we had been back in our camp only a few days. I do not know where he was able to get all the delicious food from but it is here—well, it was. No-one has left any of the food. It has all been consumed; not even a scrap is left for the ants or the birds. Now I am sure (having eaten three bowls of rice with suckling duck and ginger!) why Uncle did not let me go to town to collect supplies with Boss Chin Yee last week. They wanted to surprise me!
‘The gods have looked favourably upon us, Shu Cheong,’ Uncle said. ‘Remember to offer some food for the ancestors too.’
Tonight was a special night. In groups large and small around this land we call New Gold Mountain, the Chinese miner, the Chinese trader, the Chinese housekeeper, every Chinese person will gather and give thanks to the gods. They will remember their ancestors and then feast on the celebration that is New Year. And here in our Gully, we gathered around the eating tent and we ate, and we ate, and we ate. I think that there is not a man here in our Gully who returned to his tent at the end of the night with a grumbling stomach, who was not filled to the top of his head with the best of Chinese food. All the men offered thanks to Uncle and the Bosses for their efforts in preparing this feast.
The only thing I wish … I wish Baba were here. Kung Hei Fat Choi, Baba. Kung Hei Fat Choi, Mama.
Monday, February 11
Up near the top of the hill in the town there are new buildings. When Boss Chin Yee went into the town to get the supplies, he could see the activity there. He said that this made him nervous—even though he is a powerful boss and a big man, whom no Chinese miner will address with anything but the utmost respect. Big-Nose men who aren’t miners have been spending long hours putting together the buildings. This is where the military men are going to stay. These are nearly the biggest buildings in all of the Flat. The Commissioner is going to live here too. He will be able to see all around the Flat from up on the hill. Uncle says that now, if the gods look favourably on us, some peace for a long time might come to the Chinese miners and we can proceed with what we want to do. But I do not know—even with the Commissioner watching all the lands around the Flat—if he will be able to stop the evil ways of the European miners. If only they would leave us alone to do our mining there would be no trouble.
The presence of the Commissioner’s buildings must have been causing disquiet for the Big-Noses too. Boss Chin Yee said that he could feel tension in the town.
No stones from Jeremy. I placed another one.
Tuesday, February 12
Some Chinese miners are going to other mining areas nearby to the mines that the Big-Noses have abandoned. They are going to rework the claims and see if they can find gold. The European miners do not concentrate as hard as the Chinese miners. Most times we Chinese can find more gold in these mines, or in the dirt that has been abandoned. Sometimes even the washed dirt has gold pieces remaining. Sometimes it takes just a little more digging. Sometimes it takes a clear set of eyes, not eyes frosted over from drink. They do not like it if we find gold in their old claims, so we do not make a noise to let them know that we are successful.
Saturday, February 16
We heard that there have been big meetings of the miners in the last few days. I hope that this is not another sign of trouble for the Chinese. Uncle should go and warn the Commissioner. That is the Commissioner’s job, to protect all miners, including Chinese.
Monday, February 18
One more time I am writing from somewhere far away from our camp in our Gully, the place where we Chinese should be. It all, the land, looks the same to me, with the short stubby trees and the bushes and the dirt—the dirt that stings when it is caught in the blowing wind. I should be writing this diary in my tent, w
ith Uncle pretending not to read over my shoulder, instead of under this tree in the blowing wind, the ‘hot summer winds’, as Uncle calls them. I like it when Uncle is reading over my shoulders even though it is not polite to read over shoulders. I feel safe then.
These miners and their hatred for us are disgusting. I think I am hating them as much as they hate us. Don’t they see that their white skin and their stupid names, their stinking food and lazy ways are just as abhorrent and as ridiculous to us Chinese as ours are to them? These miners are not even as good as the other animals.
Not even one month has passed since the last time we were thrown off the Gully.
This time the attack started about midday in our Gully (not at another camp like last time, so we had no warning of what was coming). One of the Big-Nose miners thought that Kok Keet had jumped his claim. But that is not true. There were no pegs that mark out a claim, simply a hole in the ground. The man had abandoned the old mine for over a week now. I don’t know where he went for a week, but he came back and expected he could continue doing what he was doing before with his mining. Maybe these men were just hoping for a fight. Out of nowhere, where before there was one man yelling at Kok Keet, suddenly there were many men. Kok Keet would have fought one or two men, maybe even five, but when the pack of animals started running at him with their picks and their sticks, he ran away.
But they didn’t stop at Kok Keet’s mine. They ran on and were attacking any Chinaman they could catch. We were being chased from all sides, but we made it into the bush. Once more the gods must have been watching over us, because no Chinaman appears to be severely injured. There are men with bruises and torn clothes—one of the men, fleeing from the attackers, ran into a tree. Uncle and I fled with our satchels. But if the gods were watching over the Chinese miner then why were we attacked in the first place? Why were we not protected? Where was the Commissioner? Where were the troopers? Luckily, most of us now wear our gold in pouches on our bodies. We cannot bury the gold in our tents—these get ransacked too.
Once more time we wait in the bush, miles away from our camp. One more time we will go into the town in a group and we will buy supplies and equipment, again making the storekeepers happy, and one more time we will start mining again. I don’t know how I will survive. When I told Uncle that maybe I could go to Sydney Town and work for one of the Chinese traders he said that it was not the time for this decision to be made.
I do not think that this is what Baba expected. Maybe it is good that he is not here to see this. But he has left me alone.
Tuesday, February 19
It was stupid. It was simply words, but the words are why we are not in our camp anymore. Words are why we are once again hiding in a strange place away from our Gully.
Yesterday, two Big-Nose miners were crossing the gully. They might have been in the wrong area, and they might not be totally at fault, although they did call out abusive words to Kok Keet. But we Chinese should be strong enough to ignore the words of hatred. Instead, many Chinese miners rushed at them—and I would have rushed too if I was there. I am filled with distress at our treatment. This is one of the moments when I want to leave here and go home to my beautiful China, or at least to Sydney Town where there are many more Chinamen.
The European miners were outnumbered and fled when they saw so many Chinese, only to return with many more of their miners. To begin, Kok Keet and some of his men threw grass and anything that was lying around, while others cheered them on, but when the European miners with their sticks and fists started beating the Chinese we fled—especially when we saw those flags, the English, American and Irish flags. I am sure our tents are burnt to the ground by now.
For the first time, the troopers arrested some of the criminal miners. They also requested, not too politely, and as if he had no choice, for Uncle. He had to interpret what Kok Keet and other witnesses said. It is a strange thing. Kok Keet had to break a plate and Ying Ku blow out a candle to affirm that what they were saying was the truth. Uncle, as good as his English is, was having trouble trying to interpret the military man’s questions. He had to listen in English and translate the words into Cantonese for the men, then listen to the men reply in Cantonese and repeat the answer to the military man in English. He is now resting here in our bush camp, away from our Gully. This is so unfair.
Wednesday, February 20
It wasn’t just our Gully that was attacked. Today, we have been joined by more Chinese miners who also have been thrown off their claims. I have not seen these men before, but they have been working at a creek nearby, and some have been selling their goods brought all the way from China. They arrived late into the evening and are suffering just like us. They too have had their possessions destroyed.
I did think that maybe the Big-Noses hate just our small group of miners, but now I think they do not like any person who does not behave like them and who does not look like them.
It is very, very hot here. There is nowhere to cool down except beneath the trees with a wind blowing. Uncle is allowing me to wander where the other Chinamen are, but I am not permitted to be anywhere else. I do not want to wander where I cannot see a Chinaman anyway. Some of the men have been spending a night resting, and then leaving, hoping to find more peace elsewhere. Many men still seem to have their gold—Uncle and I managed that, at least. But there are some whose gold was stolen too.
Thursday, February 21
Uncle has been kept very busy since we were evicted from our Gully. I fear he is going to run out of ink and paper, he is doing so much writing. But he is not writing only letters to China from the fortunate Chinese miner. Now he is writing petitions to the Parliament here in the colony complaining about our treatment and requesting compensation for losses. Uncle told me to watch and copy as much as I could of the words. This is some of what he wrote for them:
That on the 19th day of February, 1861 your petitioners, with several others of their countrymen, were residing at the Lambing Flat Diggings, in this colony, and were peacefully and quietly prosecuting their various avocations as gold miners and storekeepers in accordance with the Government licenses held respectively by them. That on the said 19th day of February an armed band of European and other diggers did riotously and tumultuously assemble together at the said Lambing Flat diggings, to the great disturbance of the public peace, and did then and there with force pull down, demolish and maliciously destroy the tents, stores, fixtures, machinery, tools, goods and other personal property and valuables belonging to the said Chinese; the destruction of which property was part of the same riotous transaction, and done at the same time and place …
There was a lot more but this is all that I could do. My hands were aching and my head was throbbing from the concentration required to write the words, some of which I had never heard before. They have such complicated words to write.
Some of the Bosses have left—but they have not left for good. They are travelling to Sydney, taking petitions and meaning to rally the Chinese merchants there. In Sydney there are some powerful and important Chinese men. The Chinese Society is there too. They want them to know exactly what is happening—from Chinese mouths and not from the politicians. Uncle thinks that this is a good thing, because it might rally support for the Chinese miner and make the politicians take notice. I asked Uncle again if I could go to Sydney with the Bosses. I am still here.
Friday, February 22
More Chinamen left our bush camp today. I think that I should have joined them. They said that they have suffered enough and they are not progressing with their goldmining. Uncle and some of the Bosses tried to convince the men that it would be better to stay with us, to stay with other Chinese on the goldfields, than to try to find work with foreigners. They argued with Boss Chin Yee, saying that they have been robbed and attacked too many times. This is what they said:
‘We work hard for many moons. We are free men and work not for Bosses but for ourselves. Yet the gold we find is not enough. We don’t have to mi
ne for gold; we can cook and clean to earn money and maybe even get paid in gold. Then we can go back to China. At least we won’t be worrying about getting robbed. In America, Chinese do jobs like this. They build, they clean, they operate stores—they do other jobs besides goldmining. Or we can do fruit-picking—anything that will earn money.’
Chun Kang (he is one of the Bosses) replied, ‘But you be better with Chinamen. Together we are stronger than each reed in the rope.’
But they said, ‘We can go to Sydney and work with other Chinese men there. The Society will look after us. It better than living here and worrying about being attacked or killed.’
Again, I asked Uncle if I could go to Sydney and work for the Chinese men, in the markets or in the houses. Again, he looked at me and said that I am his responsibility and not to think about that. Again, he said that my path lies here with him.
Saturday, February 23
There is nothing to do here on the station they call ‘Currawang’ (where we are waiting). It belongs to a man called Mr Roberts, and I think that this might be where we were before. He has supplied us with a few items for protection, some coverings for shelter and some big pots and some vegetables; but there’s not much food, and not the food that I am used to eating. Some of the men have seen the lean-tos that the Big-Noses built near the town, and they have ripped bark from trees and built shelters in this way. We have a big fire around which we do the cooking. I collect the firewood with five other Chinamen so none of us are ever alone.
One of the men even said that a trooper came to see that we were alive and what we were doing. But he did nothing to help us. I don’t think he even saw Uncle. To help us, he would have locked up all those Big-Noses and let us go back to our Gully and mine.
New Gold Mountain Page 7
