“You have worked so hard to help us. We are grateful. I am only sorry I cannot stay on to help.”
“I work to repay the harm that we did to China. I know that there were some among us who turned a blind eye to the forced imports of opium into this country.” She blushed as she recalled the words of a fellow missionary. “The opium wars were part of God’s plan to make China a Christian country,” he had said when she protested against its vileness.
“I am ashamed. I understand full well the Chinese people’s distrust of us.” Elizabeth fell silent, embarrassed by her own outburst. Then with a forced smile she clapped; a sharp gesture to underline that no more should be said.
“Enough about me! The Presbyterian Church of America is thinking of setting up a medical school to train women doctors here. It will be good if that can happen.” She reached out to take Shao Peng’s hand. “And you, what do you intend to do?”
“I don’t know. I can only think of what I need to do now. And now, my task is to help women join their husbands in Malaya. They couldn’t before because it was illegal, so the situation became dire over there. There were many more Chinese men than women. The imbalance has led women to be snatched from China. These poor creatures are smuggled into the country and enslaved by brothel owners.” Her voice broke. “My mother would have been one of those women if she had not taken her own life.”
“What happened?”
“We were both kidnapped. They tried to force her into prostitution, drugging her with opium. She killed herself. I was rescued by the brothel maid and returned to my aunt who brought me up. Later on an Englishman by the name of Edward Grime brought me to Malaya.”
“Your father? Where was he?”
“He was abducted and sent off to Singapore to work. We did not know his whereabouts for years.”
***
The sun broke through the heavy clouds. With it the shadows in the courtyard came alive. The women had been up early. By the time the night watchman sounded his first gong in the morning, the washing had been done and hung out on the clothesline. It billowed in the breeze—sheet after sheet of rough cotton suspended from high, their dye faded to only a previous hint of the colours they were.
“Come,” said Shao Peng tucking the last of the pegs into the cloth bag slung low on her hip, “we have to clean out the dormitories. We will be going after lunch to Canton. We can’t leave Dr Elizabeth with more work; she has enough on her hands.”
“It’s all right. You have cleaned enough,” said Elizabeth coming into the courtyard. She waved the women away. “Breakfast is ready. If you hurry to the kitchen now, you might be able to help serve it to the sick and eat some as well.”
She beckoned Shao Peng to her. “Come with me. A woman is here to see you. She has a young girl with her. They arrived very late at night. I put them up in my little office. I didn’t want to wake you. They were so tired. I am afraid I could only give them some bedding and they had to sleep on the floor.” She threw Shao Peng a puzzled look; her grey eyes were filled with concern. “She said it was a matter of life and death. I thought you said you had no kin remaining in China.”
Who could it be, Shao Peng wondered. She too was mystified.
They arrived together outside the office, stopping only to catch their breath for they had hurried there. The door stood ajar. A woman’s voice, low and urgent, could be heard from within. “Don’t be frightened. This is our only way to save you. Do as they tell you. Don’t answer back and you will be fine. They will look after you,” she said.
A young voice, clear as a bell, answered, “Yes, mama.”
Shao Peng and Dr Elizabeth pushed open the door. Both mother and child turned to face them. The woman, with a face wizened and lined by harsh hours under the sun, was burnt brown. Her hair was roughly coiled into a bun leaving strands of grey to escape and hang in defiance around her face. She stood with her mouth open. Taken by surprise, she was caught mid-sentence instructing her daughter. The child was slim and waif-like, a beauty with eyes like a doe, shy yet bright with curiosity and excitement that were hardly concealed.
“You wished to see me?” said Shao Peng, addressing the woman. “Do I know you?”
“You don’t know me. We have heard of you and come to beg your help.” The woman dropped to her knees, causing Shao Peng to immediately lower herself until her face was level with the woman.
“Please get up. Don’t kneel. I am younger than you and am of no importance. Please aunty, come. Rise,” she said drawing the woman to her feet.
Ah Lan threw an anxious glance at Elizabeth and turned quickly away. She had never seen grey eyes before; they looked soulless, like steel. How could such eyes see, she wondered. She avoided eye contact with Elizabeth. She had heard of the curse that could befall Chinese people if they locked eyes with the gwei loh. Wasn’t that why China had fallen prey to this terrible poverty and despair, because of the curse of such eyes?
Elizabeth, sensing the woman’s fear, retreated. “I will be outside if you need me.” She went out, leaving the door half-opened.
Shao Peng drew Ah Lan to a stool. “Please tell me what brought you here.”
Outside, Dr Elizabeth listened quietly to the story unfolded by the woman, a story that she had become familiar with in the three years she lived in China. The destitution of the poor; desperate families selling their female offsprings to repay debts; the untenable situation these girls found themselves in. Yet, should she be shocked? She reflected on her own experience as a member of the National Society for Woman’s Suffrage in England. We were only better in some respects, she thought. We did not kill off baby girls nor did we sell our daughters to be concubines. However, women were still badly treated.
She leaned against the door. A wry smile appeared on her face as she recalled some of her fellow missionaries and their indignation about the plight of Chinese women. But were we really so much better off, she wondered. The words of the barrister Leone Levi came to her mind. He had insisted that a woman loses her personal identity on marriage. He believed that her person was completely subservient to that of her husband. Through marriage, a husband acquired an absolute mastery over a woman’s person and effects. Why, until a decade or so ago, a married woman in England could not even engage in trade. Even among missionaries the attitude had remained undoubtedly biased. She recalled the words of one male colleague. “Women missionaries in foreign lands must be careful to recognise the headship of men,” he had said. He had then paused and then enunciated slowly, his face patient as though he was explaining to a child, “the head of a woman is the man.”
The sound of sobbing interrupted her thoughts. Elizabeth placed her ear close to the door.
“I do not know if I can help you,” she heard Shao Peng say, distress in her voice. “I am mainly here to bring women to their families in Malaya. I come entrusted by their husbands to fetch them. I do not know if I could take Li Ling with me, seeing she has no kin there.”
“Make her your kin,” said Elizabeth pushing open the door. She spoke in Cantonese to make sure that the woman understood. They turned in surprise at her intervention. “You can say that she is your cousin. I’ll help with the funds. I have some savings and I might be able to put in a good word with the ship’s captain.”
Shao Peng looked at Ah Lan then at Li Ling. The girl was holding on to her mother’s tunic blouse, crushing the hemline into a tight ball, fear in her face. How could she not help them? She was glad of Elizabeth’s intervention. It reminded her of her cause. “Yes, I’ll do it. I’ll take Li Ling with me,” she said. “What about you, good aunty? What would you and your husband do?”
“Our main concern is for our daughter. She is the one in immediate danger. Once she is out of the way they could only threaten and extract money from us. They would beat us up. I don’t think they would drive us out from the land immediately. I suspect we would be forced to work it without return. Who could pay the exorbitant rent and take over from us?” Ah Lan and Kang had di
scussed this at length and that was the conclusion they had reached. In a countryside ravaged by war, they could see only poor peasants like themselves.
Ah Lan turned to Elizabeth and was about to kneel again, when they caught her in time. “Doh chei, doh chei,” she said with both hands clasped in thanks. She was embarrassed and ashamed by her unkind thoughts about the Missionary lady.
“I am so sorry for coming so late last night,” she said looking directly for the first time at Elizabeth. She felt the need to explain. She had to make amends for not looking at or speaking to her. She had not even thanked the lady properly when she let them in and gave them a place to sleep. She had been too terrified. Even now she had to quell her fears and force herself to engage the eyes of the doctor.
“I couldn’t leave the house with my daughter in daylight. I was frightened that someone might see us. That was why we came so late. Forgive me for disturbing your sleep.” She remembered a flustered Elizabeth at the door, holding together her dressing gown when she opened it to let them in.
Shao Peng smiled. “Come,” she said, “Dr Elizabeth is not offended or angry. Those thoughts never crossed her mind, I assure you. Come,” she repeated, “let us have something to eat.”
Chapter 5
THE OPEN CART rolled forward, creaking and bouncing over the rough terrain. Unaccustomed to the motion, the women held onto each other. They wore wide cone shaped straw hats, typical of those worn by local farmers. A kerchief was tied round Li Ling’s head and it protruded like a hood to help obscure her face. Shao Peng thought it best that the girl was less visible.
The plan was that they would be in Canton by nightfall where they would stay in another Missionary house and then leave for Singapore the following day.
Lai Ma was the oldest. She had wept bitterly the night before. In the cramped dormitory she spoke of the four children she had left behind with her in-laws. The youngest was only five. She had wanted to take all of them with her. She could not. Her husband was only able to send her a ticket for just one passage. Moreover, as her mother-in-law pointed out, she would not be able to work if she had the children and she needed to earn. “Any job, Miss Shao Peng,” Lai Ma had pleaded, “so long as it pays and I can put aside enough to send for them. Meantime, I have to send money home for their upkeep. My in-laws are poor farmers eking out a living growing vegetables. They do not have enough to take on four additional mouths to feed.”
Now seated in the open cart, Lai Ma looked resigned. The dark circles round her eyes and the swollen eyelids were all the traces left of last night’s emotions. Sensing that she was being watched, her lips trembled into a semblance of a smile. “I’ll be all right,” she assured Shao Peng. A tear, bright like mercury, however, rolled down one cheek even while she professed she was fine. She brushed it away fiercely and turned her face quickly away.
Shao Peng leaned over and placed an arm around Lai Ma’s shoulders. There was little she could say to console her.
Overhead, the sun that was shining brightly just minutes ago, disappeared behind dark clouds blowing in from the west. Streaks of lightning flashed through the sky and huge drops of rain pelted down fast and furious, drenching everyone in the cart. The women drew their feet up to huddle under their wide brimmed hats. They clutched their belongings close to them. The rain came sweeping down, angling straight into their faces. There was nothing to stop their onslaught for it was all flat land.
“Look,” cried Jing-jing, with a broad grin on her face, “we are all crying.” She was seventeen and the youngest of the three women. She tilted her face up to the sky, letting her hat slip behind her back, uncaring that it caused a stream of water to pour on to the other women. She stood up, swaying with the motion of the carriage. The cart continued to roll forward, its wheels squeaking in protest.
“I don’t mind this. I’ll be joining my husband. I’ll be free from the incessant spiteful berating of my mother-in-law.”
“Sit down!” Shao Peng shouted to make hersel fheard above the storm’s uproar. “You will upset the cart.” With her other arm, she gathered her charge Li Ling closer to her. She turned and whispered to Lai Ma, “Ignore Jing-jing. She is young and has her reasons.
Jing-jing heard. She squatted down and, shivering as the wind bit through her wet cotton top, yelled, “I can’t help it. I am sorry if I upset you. This journey sets me free. For over two years, I suffered in my mother-in-law’s household. She hated me. She said I was barren so she worked me hard. From morning to night I had not a minute to myself. Drawing water from the well, emptying the chamber pots, massaging her feet, those bound smelly feet which she was so proud of while all the time shaming me for what she called my big ugly ones. She made me kneel to serve her tea and it was never right for her taste. It was too hot; then it was too cold; or she would complain that it was weak or excessively strong. I cried myself to sleep every night, all eight hundred and twenty-six days since my husband left China. I want to celebrate this day!”
So saying, she leapt up again, her face glistening with the rain while her eyes shone with feverish fervour. Shao Peng pulled her down. “Stay still! We understand your feelings. Just stop rocking the cart or we’ll crash. Look at the lightning.” She pointed to a flash of silver hurtling through the sky. A roll of thunder followed. The horse wheeled suddenly to the right. It raised its forelegs and scrambled them in the air before landing back on the ground with a thud. The driver muttered a loud curse and the cart lurched to the right and into the ditch.
“Get out! Get out!” he yelled. “Get behind the cart. Push when I tell you.”
The women jumped out of the cart. Their feet, shod in wooden clogs, were swallowed immediately by oozing mud.
“Push,” he ordered.
They pushed shoulder to shoulder, some losing their footwear to the squelching mire. It took them several efforts before the wheels broke free and rolled once more out onto the road. They clambered wet and weary back onto the cart. Shao Peng counted quickly to make sure that everyone was on board and the cart rolled forward, continuing its ungainly journey towards Canton.
“Chun,” Shao Peng said solicitously to the third woman in their group, “are you all right?” She had noticed that Chun was uncommonly quiet. She had barely spoken a word throughout the journey. Indeed, Shao Peng could not recall her saying anything during her entire stay at the Mission. Chun was just a year or two older than Jing-jing and was as serious and quiet as Jing-jing was exuberant and talkative. While the other women exchanged stories, Chun kept to herself. Only when Shao Peng asked her what her name meant so that she could write it correctly, did she venture to explain that it stood for spring. “My mother said that my name is to depict the start of life, when the cherry blossoms bloom.” She had then blushed and relapsed into silence, making no further response to the questions and chatter of the other women.
“If you are not feeling well, perhaps you would like to take my seat. Lean against the side of the cart. It is more tiring seated in the middle with nothing to support your back.” Shao Peng was eager to engage her into a conversation. It was important that the women got along. Jing-jing had grumbled that she found Chun unfriendly. “And look,” she added, “it has almost stopped raining.”
“Thank you. I am fine,” Chun replied looking up to the sky. The dark clouds that had loomed like thick forests of black cotton wool had begun to disperse to reveal patches of clear blue.
Shao Peng searched into her bag and found a boiled sweet potato. She fished it out and broke the root into clumps to share amongst the women. “Can we not find some shelter to eat and rest?” she asked the driver.
He turned to cast her a cutting look. “What!” he said incredulously. “And risk being attacked by bandits? We have to reach Canton before nightfall. Eat and rest if you wish. No one is to get down from the cart until I finish delivering you to the Mission.”
Jing-jing nudged Li Ling seated next to her. “He is cross. So beware!” When Li Ling did not reply, she addresse
d Shao Peng with a toss of her head. “You have another silent one over here.”
Shao Peng’s heart went out to Li Ling sitting in silence with eyes cast down. She remembered her own first journey at seven years old and the wrench she felt when she had to leave all that were dear and familiar to her. “Here, have my share. I am not hungry,” pushing the clump of soft golden tuberous root into Li Ling’s hand. Rummaging in her bag she fished out five lengths of sugar cane. Their green skin gleamed invitingly. “Your mother gave us these for our journey. They would help us quench our thirst.”
Li Ling took the cane and bit down on to the hard fibrous root, tearing the outer skin with her little white teeth. Then closing her eyes she sucked the fibrous stalk and for the first time in the journey, she smiled. “We grow these in our backyard. My mother will squeeze the juice out and boil them in summer to sell in the market. I don’t like it warm though, I much prefer eating it this way.”
“My children like it too,” said Lai Ma. “I give it to them if they have sore throats. It is supposed to be a cooling drink, a yin to balance out the yang in our body. They like it because it is sweet. She too smiled with her fond memories. The atmosphere visibly lightened and the cart settled to a steady roll towards Canton.
***
The Mission in Canton stood in a narrow street. The back of the building overlooked a canal, one of the many that formed a labyrinth connecting various sections of the city. The women got out of the cart and proceeded to the front door of the grey brick building. They knocked. An elderly woman opened the door and invited them in. Her hands were gnarled and their knuckles red and raw. “Let me take you to the waiting room. I am in the middle of helping out in the kitchen and will leave you there for a moment. Come, come, this way.”
She led on. The long corridor was cool and dark. Rooms branched off on either side. From behind their closed doors, the smell of bleach and soap mingled with that of wax candles seeped through. “This is used mainly as a hospital,” she explained. “A few rooms to the rear of the building are kept for fellow missionaries passing through and you will probably be put there for the night. The doctor will tell you more.”
A Flash of Water Page 3
