From Shanghai to Hong Kong - Fleeing Communism

Children Left Behind in China

Alexander Pope once wrote, “To err is human. To forgive is divine.”

Boy, did he say a mouthful…

I am half-Chinese but grew up in the United States. My dear late Papa, however, spent the first nine years of his life in Shanghai, China. Until 1946, that is, when the Communist Party began gaining momentum through the populous country.

Shortly before 1946, my Papa’s own father, my Grandpa Clifford, was invited by a former business colleague to travel to Hong Kong to work for a Shanghai-owned trading firm. It was quite a common occurrence at that time-Shanghai firms relocating to Hong Kong after the end of World War 2, in order to save their businesses from the Communists’ clutches. Case in point, because he stayed in China, my Papa’s grandfather’s property and businesses were all confiscated by the government.

Hence, before the Communist seized power, Shanghai businessmen were among the first nationalists who saw the writing on the wall; the Communists were spreading their doctrine all over the country, brainwashing whomever they could along the way. They would not be tolerating any private enterprise on Chinese soil.

Convinced the Communists would be China’s downfall, Grandpa Clifford, after settling in then-British-ruled Hong Kong, began making plans to send for his wife and four children: Jennifer, Papa, Josie, and Ching-Shiu. The family would inevitably relocate to Hong Kong throughout the course of approximately two years. Everyone (except for the youngest child) would eventually board a steamer called the Ji-Nan, operated by the British, sailing from Shanghai for about four days, before finally reaching Hong Kong.

Because he was the only son, Papa was the first of the Liu children to make the trek from Shanghai to Hong Kong. He was nine years old at the time. Needless to say, his parents had an ample amount of confidence in young Papa’s ability to fend for himself, and to maneuver the tricky voyage from one bustling city to another, during an especially volatile period in Chinese history. Or it could very well be that my grandparents underestimated the potential dangers of the trip. Or they were desperate. Or both. Who knows at this point?

When one looks at black and white photos of civilians in panic during this post-war period in China, at families scurrying about to escape the Communists by any means, one can only imagine the chaos a huge city like Shanghai went through during the first five-year exodus. One sees countless grainy photos captured by professional and amateur photographers alike, of families in turmoil and upheaval, pulling primitive carts filled with their treasured lifelong belongings; they’re shuffling through the busy streets and following large crowds, on the road to freedom beyond the borders of their homeland.

One hears amazing stories of escape during this particularly frantic time in history. For those unfortunate families too poor to take transportation out of the mainland, the desire for freedom often involved walking and even, at times, swimming. They were met with treacherous roads damaged by civil war, equally mountainous terrain, dangerous waters, corrupt smugglers, and roadside bandits. And that’s the short list.

On May 27, 1949, Shanghai officially came under Communist control. Despite their claims that the city was taken over in a “peaceful” manner, one of the first actions the Communist party took was “doing away with” (euphemism) people they considered counter-Communist revolutionaries. Mass executions soon took place in what were once Shanghai’s grand ballrooms and other big arenas, with “many” (another euphemism) slaughtered for one reason or another.

While the whole Liu family made a fresh new start in Hong Kong, Papa’s youngest sister, Ching Shiu, stayed in Shanghai. She was the only immediate family member left behind, this, in order to live with her paternal grandparents. The plan was for the aging grandparents to take the then two-year old Ching Shiu as a “companion” to take care of them in old age. Can you say, “Sacrificial Lamb”?

Actually, the old couple’s favorite grandchild was my Aunt Josie, Ching Shiu’s older sister. But Aunt Josie was among the three lucky siblings to flee to Hong Kong, and so Ching Shiu was left behind as a consolation prize.

For a while after that, communication between those living in British-governed Hong Kong and Communist-run China paused.

Later on, when communication between the two lands resumed, my Grandma Jenny was riddled with guilt. Leaving behind her little girl saddled with aging grandparents in a Communist state was suddenly appearing a poor and hasty decision. Grandma Jenny would, for the rest of her life, try to “make it up” to Ching Shiu, sending her money and gifts, visiting her as much as possible, and feverishly writing her letters filled with heart-felt regret. One would think that these gestures of goodwill on Grandma Jenny’s part would make up for the earlier desertion of her little girl.

Not too long afterwards, Ching Shiu’s grandmother died somewhat early, at age 60, followed by the grandfather about ten years later. Around this time, the Communists heralded in what would be known as the “Cultural Revolution”. Don’t be fooled. Culture had nothing to do with it. More accurately, the Cultural Revolution ran more along the lines of “punishing” those descended from China’s “Landlord” class (hence the enemy of the “Peasant” class or “the people”). As such, Ching Shiu was not permitted to attend high school, much less university. Instead, she was sent to another town to receive training to become a primary school teacher. Being from the guilty “Landlord” class, Ching Shiu would “pay back” her country by educating children of the “Peasant” class. Two wrongs make a right, it would seem.

Every time I think about my aunt Ching Shiu, I wonder how she must have suffered as a child, knowing full well that her own parents left her behind with grandparents to take on the burden of caring for them.

My Papa once mentioned that Ching Shiu, after having grown up, constantly demanded money from her “more fortunate” Hong-Kong raised siblings, claiming they owed her as much. I believe the word used to describe Ching Shiu at the time was “greedy”.

Well, maybe so.

But I know that while Hong Kong was experiencing an economic boom in the decades following World War 2, many Chinese mainlanders were simply struggling to survive, during a time of famine and poverty, engineered by their own government, no less.

Beyond that, I can imagine the deep-rooted abandon and inadequacy a small child must have felt, upon learning she was the sole family member left behind; not out of necessity, mind you, but as a consolation prize to appease old dying relatives; all this during a lawless and especially repressive period in China’s history.

As I was growing up in the states, I remember that Papa would always send money to his mother, Grandma Jenny, who then turned around and sent that money to Ching Shiu. Back then, my mother would contend, “Why should your Papa give his Chinese relatives money when he already has five kids of his own to take care of?” I recall having sympathized with my mother at the time, thinking she was absolutely right.

Now, I’m not so sure.