Chinese Cinderella

  The conquerors parcelled out the best areas of these treaty ports for themselves, claiming them as their own ‘territories’ or ‘concessions’. Tianjin’s French Concession was like a little piece of Paris transplanted into the centre of this big Chinese city. Our house was built in the French style and looked as if it had been lifted from a tree‐shaded avenue near the Eiffel Tower. Surrounded by a charming garden, it had porches, balconies, bow windows, awnings and a slanting tile roof. Across the street was St Louis Catholic Boys’ School, where the teachers were French missionaries.

  In December 1941, when the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor, the United States became involved in the Second World War. Although Tianjin was occupied by the Japanese, the French Concession was still being governed by French officials. French policemen strutted about looking important and barking out orders in their own language, which they expected everyone to understand and obey.

  At my school, Mother Agnes taught us the alphabet and how to count in French. Many of the streets around our house were named after dead French heroes or Catholic saints. When translated into Chinese, these street names became so complicated that Ye Ye and Nai Nai often had trouble remembering them. Bilingual store signs were common but the most exclusive shops painted their signs only in French. Nai Nai told us this was the foreigners’ way of announcing that no Chinese were allowed there except for maids in charge of white children.

  Chapter Three

  Nai Nai’s Bound Feet

  The dinner‐bell rang at seven. Aunt Baba took my hand and led me into the dining‐room.

  My grandparents were just ahead of us. Aunt Baba told me to run quickly to the head of the big, round dining‐table and pull out Grandmother Nai Nai’s chair for her. Nai Nai walked very slowly because of her bound feet. I watched her as she inched her way towards me, hobbling and swaying as if her toes had been partly cut off. As she sat down with a sigh of relief, I placed my foot next to her embroidered, black‐silk shoe to compare sizes.

  ‘Nai Nai, how come your feet are so tiny?’ I asked.

  ‘When I was three years old, a tight bandage was wound around my feet, bending the toes under the sole and crushing the arch so that my feet would remain small all my life. This has been the custom in China for over one thousand years, ever since the Tang dynasty. In my day, small feet were considered feminine and beautiful. If you had large and unbound feet, no man would marry you. This was the custom.’

  ‘Did it hurt?’

  ‘Of course! It hurt so badly I couldn’t sleep. I screamed with pain and begged my mother to free my feet but she wouldn’t. In fact, the pain has never gone away. My feet have hurt every day since they were bound and continue to hurt today. I had a pair of perfectly normal feet when I was born, but they maimed me on purpose and gave me life‐long arthritis so I would be attractive. Just be thankful this horrible custom was done away with thirty years ago. Otherwise your feet would be crippled and you wouldn’t be able to run or jump either.’

  I went to the foot of the table and sat at my assigned seat between Second Brother and Third Brother as my three brothers ran in, laughing and jostling each other. I cringed as Second Brother sat down on my right. He was always saying mean things to me and grabbing my share of goodies when nobody was looking.

  Second Brother used to sit next to Big Brother but the two of them fought a lot. Father finally separated them when they broke a fruit bowl fighting over a pear.

  Big Brother winked at me as he sat down. He had a twinkle in his eye and was whistling a tune. Yesterday he’d tried to teach me how to whistle but no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t make it work. Was Big Brother up to some new mischief today? Last Sunday afternoon, I came across him crouched by Grandfather Ye Ye’s bed, watching him like a cat while Ye Ye took his nap. A long black hair from Ye Ye’s right nostril was being blown out and drawn in with every snore. Silently but swiftly, Big Brother suddenly approached Ye Ye and carefully pinched the nasal hair between his forefinger and thumb. There was a tantalising pause as Ye Ye exhaled with a long, contented wheeze. Meanwhile I held my breath, mesmerised and not daring to make a sound. Finally, Ye Ye inhaled deeply. Doggedly, Big Brother hung on. The hair was wrenched from its root. Ye Ye woke up with a yell, jumped from his bed, took in the situation with one glance and went after Big Brother with a feather duster. Laughing hysterically, Big Brother rushed out of the room, slid down the banister and made a clean getaway into the garden, all the time holding Ye Ye’s hair aloft like a trophy.

  Third Brother took his seat on my left. His lips were pursed and he was trying to whistle unsuccessfully. Seeing the medal on my uniform, he raised his eyebrow and smiled at me. ‘What’s that?’ he asked.

  ‘It’s an award for topping my class. My teacher says I can wear it for seven days.’

  ‘Congratulations! First week at school and you get a medal! Not bad!’

  While I was basking in Third Brother’s praise, I suddenly felt a hard blow across the back of my head. I turned around to see Second Brother glowering at me.

  ‘What did you do that for?’ I asked angrily. Deliberately, he took my right arm under the table and gave it a quick, hard twist while no one was looking. ‘Because I feel like it, that’s why, you ugly little squirt! This’ll teach you to show off your medal!’

  I turned for help from Third Brother but he was looking straight ahead, obviously not wishing to be involved. At that moment, Father, Niang and Big Sister came in together and Second Brother immediately let go of my arm.

  Niang was speaking to Big Sister in English and Big Sister was nodding assent. She glanced at all of us smugly as she took her seat between Second Brother and Niang, full of her own self‐importance at being so favoured by our stepmother. Because her left arm had been paralysed from a birth injury, her movements were slow and awkward and she liked to order me, or Third Brother, to carry out her chores.

  ‘Wu Mei (Fifth Younger Sister)!’ she now said. ‘Go fetch my English–Chinese dictionary. It’s on my bed in my room. Niang wants me to translate something . . .’

  I was halfway off my chair when Nai Nai said, ‘Do the translation later! Sit down, Wu Mei. Let’s have dinner first before the dishes get cold. Here, let me first pick a selection of soft foods to send up to the nursery so the wet nurse can feed the two youngest . . .’ She turned to Niang with a smile. ‘Another two years and all seven grandchildren will be sitting around this table. Won’t that be wonderful?’

  Niang’s two‐year‐old son, Fourth Brother, and her infant daughter, Little Sister, were still too young to eat with us. However, they were already ‘special’ from the moment of their birth. Though nobody actually said so, it was simply understood that everyone considered Niang’s ‘real’ children to be better‐looking, smarter, and simply superior in every way to Niang’s stepchildren. Besides, who dared disagree?

  For dessert, the maids brought in a huge bowl of my favourite fruit, dragons’ eyes! I was so happy I couldn’t help laughing out loud.

  Nai Nai gave us each a small bowl of fruit and I counted seven dragons’ eyes in mine. I peeled off the leathery brown skin and was savouring the delicate white flesh when Father suddenly pointed to my medal.

  ‘Is this medal for topping your class?’ he asked.

  I nodded eagerly, too excited to speak. A hush fell upon the table. This was the first time anyone could remember Father singling me out or saying anything to me. Everyone looked at my medal.

  ‘Is the left side of your chest heavier?’ Father continued, beaming with pride. ‘Are you tilting?’

  I flushed with pleasure and could barely swallow. My big Dia Dia was actually teasing me! On his way out, he even patted me on my head. Then he said, ‘Continue studying hard and bringing honour to our Yen family name so we can be proud of you.’

  All the grown‐ups beamed at me as they followed Father out of the room. How wonderful! My triumph had become Father’s triumph! I must study harder and keep wearing this medal so I can go on pleasing Father,
I thought to myself.

  But what was this? Big Sister was coming towards me with a scowl. Without a word, she reached over and snatched two dragons’ eyes from my bowl as she left the room. My three brothers followed her example. Then they all ran out, leaving me quite alone with my silver medal, staring at my empty bowl.

  Chapter Four

  Life in Tianjin

  A few months later in early 1942. Winter‐time.

  When I started kindergarten at St Joseph’s French Convent School, Big Sister had been going there for years and years and was already in the fifth grade. She complained so much about having to walk me to and from school that Grandmother Nai Nai finally told Ah Mao, the rickshaw‐puller, to take us there and back.

  Father had bought the black, shiny rickshaw three years earlier as a fiftieth birthday present for Nai Nai to visit her friends and play mah‐jong. It had inflatable rubber tyres, a brass lamp on each side and a bell operable by foot as well as by hand. Every morning, Ah Mao could be seen sweeping the seat, washing the sides, brushing the canopy and polishing the brass. My brothers were forever begging him to let them pull each other back and forth in the garden but Ah Mao was fiercely protective and would scatter them away.

  Outside our garden, an old, blind and crippled beggar‐woman often sat on the pavement. As soon as Ah Mao opened the gate, she would bang her tin plate, tilt back her head and wail in a loud voice, ‘Have pity on me!’ Big Sister (Da Jie ) and I were both a little frightened of her. ‘Run faster!’ Big Sister would urge Ah Mao. ‘Get away from her as fast as you can!’

  I was always happy when our rickshaw approached the imposing red brick building of St Joseph’s. I loved everything about my school: all the other little girls dressed in identical white starched uniforms just like mine; the French Franciscan nuns in black and white habits with big metal crosses dangling from their necks; learning numbers, the catechism and the alphabet; playing hopscotch and skipping at recess. My classmates made me feel like I belonged. Unlike my siblings, nobody looked down on me.

  The school‐bell rang and it was time to go home. I rushed out of the classroom and ran straight towards Ah Mao, who was smoking a cigarette and squatting on his haunches between the handlebars of his rickshaw on the pavement by the school gate. He smiled as I approached and waved me into his cab.

  ‘I wonder how long we’re going to have to wait today,’ he grumbled as he lit a fresh cigarette.

  I said nothing but I knew what he meant. It was annoying. Big Sister was always among the last to leave when school finished. She seemed to enjoy having her friends notice that her rickshaw‐puller and younger sister could be found waiting for her every afternoon while she took her own sweet time.

  Today we waited even longer than usual. It was beastly cold and there was a sharp north‐westerly wind blowing. After a while Ah Mao wandered off to chat with a tea‐pedlar on the corner and warm his hands against the pedlar’s steaming kettle. My face, fingers and toes were numb with cold.

  Finally, I saw Big Sister appear in the playground, laughing and joking with a few big girls from her class until the nuns shooed them out and locked the gate behind them. Big Sister scowled as she climbed in, while I shrank into my corner. She jabbed the bell angrily several times with her foot and called sharply. Ah Mao ran back, stepped between the shafts and off we went.

  ‘What did the nuns teach you today?’ Big Sister suddenly asked imperiously.

  ‘They taught us about God,’ I replied proudly. ‘I’m going to test you. Who made you?’

  I was happy because I knew the answer. ‘God made me.’

  ‘Why did God make you?’

  ‘I don’t know, because Teacher hasn’t told us yet.’

  ‘That’s just an excuse!’ Big Sister screamed. ‘You don’t know because you are stupid! And you don’t deserve to wear this!’ Suddenly, she grabbed my medal and jerked it, becoming enraged because I was pushing her away. ‘Take that! Medal‐winner! Teacher’s pet! Who do you think you are? Showing off week after week!’ Big Sister cried as she slapped me with her strong right hand.

  Ah Mao, who had stopped at a red light, turned around to look when he heard the slap. Big Sister nonchalantly straightened her uniform, ordering him to run faster because she was hungry. She told Ah Mao that Cook was making pot‐stickers and they were her favourite afternoon snack. As soon as we were home, Big Sister jumped down and ran off. Ah Mao helped me alight, pointed to my medal, smiled broadly, and gave me the thumbs‐up sign, shaking his fist up and down to signal his admiration.

  * * *

  I was winning the medal every week and wearing it constantly. I knew this displeased my siblings, especially Big Sister and Second Brother, but it was the only way to make Father take notice and be proud of me. Besides, my teachers and schoolmates seemed to be happy for me. I loved my school more and more.

  Finally, it was the end of term. Our whole school was assembled in the auditorium for prize‐giving. The French Monsignor himself was waiting on stage to present us with awards. Mother Agnes suddenly called my name in front of everyone. She announced that I had won a special award for wearing the weekly medal for more weeks than any other student. My heart beat wildly as I approached the stage, but the steps leading up to the Monsignor were too high and steep for my short little legs. What should I do? Finally, I had no choice but to climb up to the stage on my hands and knees. Everyone was hooting with laughter and clapping wildly. Were they applauding me?

  On my way back to my seat, I couldn’t help noticing that of all the prize‐winners, I was the only one unaccompanied by anyone from my family. Nobody was there to pat my head or congratulate me, not even my Aunt Baba. As for Big Sister, she had refused to go to school that day. She’d said she had a stomach‐ache.

  Aunt Baba told me that Japan was a strong country which had conquered most of China, including the city of Tianjin where we lived. My three brothers were always grumbling about the Japanese classes they were required to take at school. We children were supposed to show our respect and bow whenever we ran past Japanese soldiers. Otherwise they would punish us or even kill us. Once, Big Brother’s best friend was kicked and slapped by a Japanese soldier because he forgot to bow when he ran past him. Another time, Ye Ye stopped Third Brother from kicking a ball made of old newspapers because a photo of the Japanese emperor was visible on its surface. Everyone hated the Japanese, but even the grown‐ups were scared of them. Now there was talk that the Japanese were demanding to become Father’s business partners.

  Father looked terribly worried and his hair started to fall out. Many Japanese men in business suits came to the house looking for Father, even on Sundays. They came with Japanese bodyguards who wore surgical masks on their faces and carried scary‐looking bayonets with big, sharp knives at the tips. It was a great nuisance because we had to bow and show respect to anyone who looked Japanese. After their departure, Father would talk to Ye Ye for hours and hours, in their office.

  One morning, Father left the house to buy stamps at the post office down the road. He never came home.

  Ye Ye reported Father’s disappearance to the police. He put up posters and placed advertisements in the newspapers offering a reward for news of Father’s whereabouts, alive or dead. The Japanese came back a few times looking for Father but soon lost interest. With Father absent, his business ground to a halt. There was no more money to be made and the Japanese dropped their demands.

  A few months later, our stepmother Niang took our younger brother (Fourth Brother) and left the house also. Nobody knew where they had gone. It was all rather frightening and very mysterious.

  Ye Ye told us that Father, Niang and Fourth Brother had left for a while. After the strangeness wore off, we weren’t particularly bothered because Father often travelled on business. Besides, Ye Ye, Nai Nai and Aunt Baba were still home. The Japanese stopped bothering us. Life settled down and became tranquil, even happy.

  Ye Ye employed seven maids, a cook, a chauffeur and Ah Mao,
the rickshaw‐puller. The grown‐ups held frequent mah‐jong parties. We children could invite our friends home to play. On Sundays, Ye Ye took everyone out for drives in Father’s big black motorcar. We lunched at different restaurants in the foreign Concessions – French, Russian, German, Italian and Japanese. Sometimes, we even saw movies suitable for children! Life seemed better than ever.

  Father, Niang and Fourth Brother had been gone for well over a year and I had almost forgotten them. There was a heatwave on and we were all in the parlour discussing the next day’s dinner menu. Aunt Baba suggested to Cook that we should have dumplings instead of rice for a change. Those yummy dumplings were stuffed with pork, chives and spring onions and were absolutely delicious! Big Brother shouted that he could eat fifty of them at one sitting. Second Brother immediately claimed sixty and Third Brother wanted sixty also. Big Sister ordered seventy. Big Brother told her she was already too fat. She screamed at him to shut up and they started to argue.

  Nai Nai said, ‘What a racket! I’m getting a headache from all this commotion. It’s getting late. I’m going to my room to soak my aching feet.’ She turned to me. ‘Wu Mei! Run down to the kitchen and tell them to bring me a pan of hot water.’

  I watched the maid pour the steaming hot water from a thermos flask into an enamel basin and followed her into Nai Nai’s bedroom. Nai Nai was sitting on the edge of her bed, slowly unwinding the filmy silk bindings from her feet. ‘Are you sure you want to stay here?’ she asked me. ‘Your Nai Nai’s feet are going to stink up this room as soon as I take these bindings off.’

  ‘Please let me stay!’ I begged as I squatted beside her on the floor. The truth was that I was fascinated by her tiny feet. It was like watching a horror movie: you want to see it and not see it at the same time.

  I stared at Nai Nai’s toes, all deformed and twisted grotesquely beneath her soles. Slowly she immersed them in the pan of hot water, sighing with relief and contentment. She then rubbed them gently with a bar of sweet‐smelling soap until the whole basin was covered with lather. Aunt Baba came in and helped Nai Nai trim her thick toe‐nails and cut off pieces of dead skin. ‘See how lucky you are?’ Nai Nai said to me. ‘By being born at the right time, both you and your Aunt Baba didn’t have to go through the torture I suffered in having my feet bound. How I wish I could have just one day when my feet didn’t hurt!’