They turned a corner and entered a room. “Please wait here,” she said and then she closed the door quietly behind her.
Left to themselves the women wandered around the confines of the room. They soon sat down for there was little to see. The room was clean and spartan. A few wooden chairs, a table and, on the wall, a cross, were all that was there. A beam of fading sunlight shone in through the window. They could hear swallows chirping outside, their little winged bodies swooping and rising to finally settle in a tight row on a wooden beam beneath the roof.
“Do we have to pray to the foreign God?” asked Lai Ma eyeing the cross. Despite her induction to Christianity, she was not sure of how she stood in terms of her belief. A life long practice of ancestor worship did not prepare her for a sudden shift in allegiance. She had observed the prayers, the devotion and kindness of the missionaries. It all seemed good. Yet, did she have to give up her worship of ancestors to become a Christian? How would the kitchen god who reports on each household, view her when he ascends to heaven, she wondered fearfully? Would the missionaries force her to accept a new religion?
“No, only if you wish,” said Shao Peng breaking into her thoughts. “If you wish to learn more about Christ, we can learn together when we are on board the ship. Taking up Christianity is not a condition for my helping you.”
“Sister Mary,” cried Dr Fulton coming into the room, her arms outstretched in welcome.”
Shao Peng blushed. “I am not a Sister, Dr Fulton. I am only at the very start of my journey. The term has been used very loosely here.”
“No matter. Our Mission is set up by the London Missionary Society. We are non-denominational. What is important is here,” she said, placing a fist on her heart, “and we welcome your work.”
She spun round to look at the other women. She beamed at them, “Huan ying, huan ying. Welcome, welcome,” she said before turning once more to Shao Peng. “I’ll show you around our hospital and school later. With the help of our benefactors we are setting up a medical school to train doctors. We have taken in two women into our college. We are so proud; this is a tremendous achievement and would be so useful for our work. Dr Elizabeth must have told you that Chinese women would only allow women doctor to examine them and hence training women doctors is...” Dr Fulton stopped. “What am I saying? Of course, you know, having been born here.” She laughed a fulsome, hearty laugh that rang from her chest. “My apologies. I do get carried away. Come let me show you to your quarters for tonight. We can talk after supper. Tomorrow, as I understand, you will leave us.”
***
The room was quiet. Chun pushed her blanket quietly to one side and swung both feet to the ground. Reaching down under the bed, she found her pair of shoes and her cloth bag of belongings. She rose to her feet and moved towards the door. She took each step slowly. A sudden loud sigh made her stop, feet mid-stride in a balletic trance. Then quiet returned and the soft sounds of sleep once more filled the room. Chun moved quickly towards the door. Her bare feet barely registered on the cold tiles. Gently she eased it open. She slipped out and almost tripped as her bag caught the door handle in her anxiety to make haste. With great care, she disentangled the bag and closed the door behind her. She hastened towards the kitchen. She knew the route. They had had supper last night in the dining room adjacent to the kitchen.
It was still dark; everyone was asleep. In an hour or so, the place would be bustling with activity. In the village she had seen the early hours that people keep in the Mission; they were all up and about before the cock crowed. She had to be quick. She made her way, still with bare feet, to the rear of the kitchen. There was a door opening out to a platform. The cook explained that supplies and groceries were delivered there by passing boat vendors. Once on the platform, she slipped on her shoes. She crouched down rolling her body into a tight ball, arms clasped around her knees, her chin on her knees. She could feel the thudding in her heart. She stayed still, her mouth dry with expectation, looking out to the stretch of water before her. It gleamed like a snake of black oil, rippling gently when the wind blew. Then she saw him, silhouetted against the moonlight, a lone figure standing tall in the narrow dinghy. He rowed towards her, his oar breaking the stillness of the water surface as he eased the boat forward.
Chun glanced quickly around and then stood up. She waved both her arms letting her cloth bag hang carelessly around one shoulder. The boat contacted the jetty with a slight wobble. She jumped in.
***
Bowls of steaming hot rice porridge were laid out on the long wooden trestle for breakfast. In the middle stood three small dishes, no bigger than the palm of one’s hand. They contained different types of salted pickled vegetables. Nearer to where Shao Peng was seated with Li Ling stood a miniscule bowl of fermented tofu; its creamy white texture was speckled with red chillies. At the other end, lay a tiny plate of salted duck eggs. The eggs were peeled and cut into minute segments. “One egg for five people or we will run out of provisions very quickly,” instructed the cook when Shao Peng offered to help peel them. “They are only to pep up your taste buds, and are far too salty to be taken in large quantities. Good job, or my housekeeping money would not extend to the mouths that keep turning up at this Mission.”
Shao Peng looked down the table; several staff at the Mission had joined them. The table was now full but for one seat still empty. “Where is Chun?” she asked. “I looked for her this morning and couldn’t find her.”
Jing-jing shrugged. “I haven’t seen her. She keeps to herself. I can’t draw her into any conversation. So I just leave her be,” she said tucking into her porridge and making quick forays into the dishes before her.
Shao Peng turned to Li Ling and Lai Ma. They too had not seen Chun. Shao Peng got up quickly leaving her food half eaten. “Perhaps she is not well,” she said. She hurried out of the room and went to the kitchen. She was about to walk past the cook, when she hesitated. The cook saw her.
“Would you like a second helping?” the cook asked. She recognised Shao Peng who had helped her earlier in the morning. “I have still some in the pot. It is fast sticking to the base, so come and get it if you want more. Only be quick about it.” She was stirring a pot of porridge as she spoke, her face a study of concentration. She was a small plump lady and the wood-burning stove came up to almost the level of her chest. Her face was flushed from the heat and the effort.
“No thank you but have you seen one of our ladies, Chun? She is the quiet one and is about this tall.” Shao Peng demonstrated with her hand.
“Ahhh! I forgot. She said last night that I was to give you this after breakfast.” Cook rummaged into her pocket and took out a piece of paper. “She specifically said to hold on to it until breakfast was over before giving it to you.”
Shao Peng took the paper. How strange, she thought. “Did she say anything else? Did you see her this morning?”
“No! She said very little. I could see that she was jittery and nervous though. Look, I have to carry this to the breakfast table before it gets cold. Once cold, it congeals and is not nice.” Without waiting for a reply, the cook strode off with the pot.
Shao Peng unfolded the paper. It was very crumpled; someone had folded and refolded it many times, leaving creases upon creases on it. Smoothing it with the palm of her hand she read.
Sister Mary, I thank you for trying to help me leave China to go to my betrothed. I was engaged to him when I was a child. I was only thirteen when my parents made that decision for me. I would probably have been his child bride, if he had not gone to Malaya. But he left and I stayed with my parents. I am in love with another boy in the village. My parents do not know. Please, I do not wish to be found. By the time you read this letter I will have left with him. I thank you for giving us this opportunity to be together. I am ashamed and sorry to be so deceitful. There was no other way. Chun
Shao Peng clutched the piece of paper tightly. Her hand shook. She was shocked by her own naivety. How could she have bee
n so blind? She had thought that Chun was like Jing- jing, eager to leave for Malaya. No wonder she had said so little. Perhaps she should have asked Chun what she wanted and not make assumptions. She would have been party to a forced marriage like the one she herself had fought so hard against.
Somehow, news of this turn of events must have reached Dr Fulton because she was striding purposefully towards her with Lai Ma, Li Ling and Jing-jing in tow.
“You don’t have time to go after your charge,” she cried even before she reached Shao Peng. “The boat leaves in less than two hours. Don’t even think of trying. This is a big city teeming with people. Go! You have to leave now. Let her be.”
Shao Peng agreed. She wanted no part in forcing Chun into a marriage she did not want. But what should she do? She had booked the berth for Chun and the money given by Chun’s betrothed had been spent. Surely it would be too late to attempt to seek a refund. Suddenly a thought struck her and her eyes brightened as the thought took form. She need not retrieve it. She could use the ticket for Li Ling. Surely the ship captain would have no objection to this? Then she would use the money Elizabeth had given towards Li Ling’s passage, add her own savings and recompense Chun’s fiancée. In fact, it might make it easier to get Li Ling on board this way. Dr Fulton had warned her of the difficulties of getting a ticket for Li Ling.
“Yes! We will pack and leave now,” she said. “I won’t look for her; she does not wish to be found. If Chun comes to visit in the future, tell her we pray for her and wish her luck.”
***
The ocean going junk loomed large before them. Shao Peng looked around the quay. It was heaving with people. People pressed in on all sides and the women found themselves swallowed into the mass of humanity surging forward. She was told that the junk would be full to capacity if not exceeding it. “It will not be a problem,” a cynical bystander had remarked. “The boat might start the journey having too many passengers, it will not remain so. By the time it reaches its destination, it will have lost a significant proportion of its passengers. It only makes economical sense to pack the boat to the full. It costs the ship captain virtually nothing to take people on board. Indeed it makes him a lot of profit. Pigs in cages, that’s what they think of the coolies.”
Jing-jing tugged at Shao Peng’s sleeves. She looked frightened for the first time. “What does he mean by that? Does it mean that we too might die?”
Shao Peng smiled and squeezed Jing-jing’s hand reassuringly. “Unlike most of the men who are going out as coolies and owe their passage to the ship captain, we have paid for our tickets. Our travel conditions should be better. I have travelled on such boats twice. I survived. This does not mean that there is no risk at all. There is always the risk of death in any journey. We have talked about it before. Remember? We have to be careful about what we eat and drink, and we have to look out for one another.”
She looked at her fellow passengers. When she left China disguised as a boy, every passenger on the boat was a man. No female passengers were allowed because women were banned from leaving China. Now, judging from her rough headcount, there were quite a few of them. She could see that the women were not from well-off families. They were peasants or from the town’s poor. Their unbound feet were testament to their status. She saw the eagerness in their faces. Like Lai Ma and Jing-jing they were leaving to join their husbands. It would be a true reunion of families and heart when they reach Malaya. And for girls like Li Ling, running from forced marriages, it would be a new beginning, just like it had been for her when she left China those many years ago. She tightened her grip on Li Ling’s hand and, bending down, whispered, “I shall look after you like a sister. You will stay with me, so do not fret. I too have to start my life all over again.” She straightened her back. She recalled her aunt’s last words to her. I must not run. I should take the example of Chun, to have her bravery to fight for what I want.
***
The women were segregated from the men and placed en masse below deck. About eighty of them were placed in a single compartment. They lay almost cheek by jowl in narrow confinement. A weak oil lamp cast a dim yellow light over the occupants. It was airless and stifling. The hot air suffused with the smell of human bodies soon grew rank. There was little to do. They had to resign themselves to the conditions. Nothing was achieved by protesting. Just as their men had survived before them, they too had to try.
At first, the women lay listless, surrendering themselves to the hard journey, their bodies racked with pain and discomfort with each roll of the ship. Sickness was rife. They tried to wash off the stench. Buckets upon buckets of seawater were doused on the floor. It was futile. The air remained suffused with the smell of vomit. They were warned that worse was to come were they to meet with bad weather. To survive they had to think of what could be gained at the end of the journey. “Imagine,” they were told, “a new life with your loved ones and most importantly, the wealth that you could accumulate. For those who are unafraid to work, the streets in Nanyang are paved with gold for the taking.” Thus the women were encouraged and gradually with the passing of the days, most adapted to life on board the junk.
There was little to entertain or occupy them. The days went by monotonously, broken here and there by the squabbles that inevitably broke out in the confined space of the cabin. Food was scarce and unchanging. They ate principally what they brought with them. For the most part the women had only brought rice, which they boiled and shared out amongst themselves. Exchanging stories about their previous lives and their aspirations for the future became their main source of entertainment. They listened to each other enthralled. Gradually a sense of comradeship grew between them.
Shao Peng sat with one arm around Li Ling. “The streets are not paved with gold,” she whispered to her charges. “There is opportunity to earn and do well if you are willing to work hard. It will not be easy. Do not be duped by the ship captain. My father slaved for many years before he did well.”
“I shall work all day and all night to make sure my boys have an education and we can pay for their passage to join us in Malaya,” said Lai Ma. “I do not wish them to come as indentured labourers like my husband did. It took him years before he could repay his debt and to save enough for just one ticket.”
“I’ll see what I can do to find you a job. My father or brother might be able to help. I can’t promise though,” Shao Peng hastened to add. She thought of the circumstances of her departure and her father’s anger at her decision to return to China.
“What would people say?” he had railed at her. “You are already an old maid with little prospects of a good marriage. You threw away your last chance with your infatuation for a gwei loh. Do you wish to add to this? People will inevitably gossip if you were to travel alone. It is not safe for a woman, not even a nun! I forbid it!”
“Don’t you worry about me. I am sure my husband will take care of everything,” said Jing-jing confidently breaking into Shao Peng’s thoughts. “He might not want me to work. Maybe I can be a proper lady, a siew nai, a mistress of the house with maids to attend to me.” She broke into a song, and her voice soared clear and sweet in the cabin.
“Huh!” exclaimed a woman who was sitting close by them. “More likely she would become a songstress, a singer to entertain men.”
Jing-jing did not hear. She was carried away by her own exuberance.
“What about you?” Lai Ma asked Shao Peng. “Are you really going to become a nun?”
Shao Peng didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know herself. She pretended not to hear. She rose and pulled Li Ling with her for the girl had remained quiet and withdrawn. She had heard her sobbing in her sleep. “Let us walk a little; my legs are numb from sitting on my haunches. Lai Ma, Jing-jing, please look after our space. When we come back, perhaps you and Jing-jing might wish to take a turn on the deck. We’ll guard your space for you.”
***
The days merged from one to the next. For the women holed- in belo
w deck in the dark, day and night were little different. Seasickness remained rampant as storms buffeted the boat, sending them rolling from one end of the compartment to the other. Outside on the deck the men slaved under the hot sun and slept in the open air under rough shelters. As predicted, some did not survive the journey. Their bodies, unceremoniously wrapped in sacking, were confined to the sea watched helplessly by those on board. Thus, the junk carrying its human cargo edged its way round the southern coast of China into the turbulent South China Sea towards Singapore and Malaya.
Chapter 6
Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, 1883
EVEN FROM A DISTANCE Shao Peng could see that something was wrong. She held on to Li Ling as the rickshaw came to an abrupt stop. The street was packed with people, all moving towards her father’s house. The gates were thrown open. Hanging from the top left gatepost was a white lantern. Her hand flew to her mouth. Shao Peng scrambled down from the rickshaw pulling Li Ling along with her. “Here, take this!” she said thrusting money into the rough worn hand of the bewildered rickshaw puller. Clutching her bag and Li Ling’s arm, she half ran towards the gate. People parted to let her through. “The daughter,” she could hear some of them say, “the one that went to China, the one who went against her father’s wish and took up the foreign religion.”
A crescendo of shrill cries pierced the air when she neared the house. It came in waves interrupted by sorrowful sobbing. Someone nudged her, digging an elbow into her side. “Professional mourners,” the person explained without looking at her, “hired to express grief for an important man. They need to have such mourners to help them; he has only two children. One, I was told, is not here. How else can they broadcast their respect and sorrow with so few children on the ground? So rich, yet so few descendants! What could he have been thinking when he was alive! If it had been me, I would make sure that I had many children.” He gave Shao Peng a lurid wink.
A Flash of Water Page 4
