Then when I was fourteen everything changed.
The Cultural Revolution began, you know the cultural revolution? When Mao terrorized the upper class, white collar workers were tormented, eight year old students had complete control over their teachers? That was the Cultural Revolution.
A group of children, maybe a little older than me at the time, they came to our house. They took everything in the name of Mao and when they were done they killed two of my father's wives, and burned the house down.
Then it was just me, my father, and fourth wife, out in the streets.
Back then you could not get welfare. Too many people were suffering. You did not have insurance. If bad things happened, wah, what bad luck, too bad for you.
I remember those times, they were bad. We had no money, we had no way to get money. The only thing they had left was me.
Bah! You hear Chinese people saying things like girl babies are useless, no one wants a girl. That is a lie, girl babies are very good to have, if you have the right girl baby. If your girl has hair as black as mine, small feet, and good manners, you might as well have all the gold in the world. See my father, he knew this was the only way to keep us from starving. So before our reputation could be tarnished, I was married to a man named Dou Jiaguo, and within a day my name went from Chou Ying-Gai, worry free, to Dou Ying-Gai, all worry.
Dou Lin, the father of Jiaguo, was a meinlul who had made a fortune that the communists wouldn't touch. He and his family had broad, tanned faces, lots of muscles. You think this is handsome now, but back then it was a sign that he was a peasant, not a drop of Han blood in him. The rumours, and these, Cho, are just rumours, are that Dou Lin joined the communists, made a fortune trading with them, pledged his allegiance to Mao and then got both good sides. Lots of money, and safety for his family. You see how tricky he was? He was not a pleasant man. He burped, and had bad manners. And his son, Jiaguo, who I was to marry was just as bad.
I tried not to think about this. I thought how happy my old father would be to have good food in his belly. How glad fourth wife will be for a new, warm dress all the way from Paris. How I could use Dou Jiaguo's money and buy my family a little home. And I might not be happy, but I could give such happiness to others. And that was enough to make me glad inside.
We were married in a simple, stiff wedding. Not a traditional Chinese wedding with a red candle and fancy red dress. Not a western wedding, so popular ten years ago, with big silly white dresses. A quick, legal, communist wedding.
I did not fear getting married, but I stiffened when Jiaguo approached our bed that night. I hadn't thought of this. I was still a very little girl, I was very scared. But Jiaguo only said, "Move over," in a rough voice, and went to bed almost at once. I was so glad--I was glad to hear his snores, glad to know that Jiaguo didn't like me.
I was so glad, so happy to know that someone else, even a meinlul, shared my misery.
The Cultural Revolution began, you know the cultural revolution? When Mao terrorized the upper class, white collar workers were tormented, eight year old students had complete control over their teachers? That was the Cultural Revolution.
A group of children, maybe a little older than me at the time, they came to our house. They took everything in the name of Mao and when they were done they killed two of my father's wives, and burned the house down.
Then it was just me, my father, and fourth wife, out in the streets.
Back then you could not get welfare. Too many people were suffering. You did not have insurance. If bad things happened, wah, what bad luck, too bad for you.
I remember those times, they were bad. We had no money, we had no way to get money. The only thing they had left was me.
Bah! You hear Chinese people saying things like girl babies are useless, no one wants a girl. That is a lie, girl babies are very good to have, if you have the right girl baby. If your girl has hair as black as mine, small feet, and good manners, you might as well have all the gold in the world. See my father, he knew this was the only way to keep us from starving. So before our reputation could be tarnished, I was married to a man named Dou Jiaguo, and within a day my name went from Chou Ying-Gai, worry free, to Dou Ying-Gai, all worry.
Dou Lin, the father of Jiaguo, was a meinlul who had made a fortune that the communists wouldn't touch. He and his family had broad, tanned faces, lots of muscles. You think this is handsome now, but back then it was a sign that he was a peasant, not a drop of Han blood in him. The rumours, and these, Cho, are just rumours, are that Dou Lin joined the communists, made a fortune trading with them, pledged his allegiance to Mao and then got both good sides. Lots of money, and safety for his family. You see how tricky he was? He was not a pleasant man. He burped, and had bad manners. And his son, Jiaguo, who I was to marry was just as bad.
I tried not to think about this. I thought how happy my old father would be to have good food in his belly. How glad fourth wife will be for a new, warm dress all the way from Paris. How I could use Dou Jiaguo's money and buy my family a little home. And I might not be happy, but I could give such happiness to others. And that was enough to make me glad inside.
We were married in a simple, stiff wedding. Not a traditional Chinese wedding with a red candle and fancy red dress. Not a western wedding, so popular ten years ago, with big silly white dresses. A quick, legal, communist wedding.
I did not fear getting married, but I stiffened when Jiaguo approached our bed that night. I hadn't thought of this. I was still a very little girl, I was very scared. But Jiaguo only said, "Move over," in a rough voice, and went to bed almost at once. I was so glad--I was glad to hear his snores, glad to know that Jiaguo didn't like me.
I was so glad, so happy to know that someone else, even a meinlul, shared my misery.