Before the Bridge
At a time when life can change in a moment, a reflection of an Asian Staten Island family and their experience back in the day
Chang Ma stared out the second-story window of his new restaurant, Ho-Wah, looking out into the early morning mist settling over Tappen Park, Stapleton, Staten Island, November 21, 1963. Packing down his Pall Malls, easing one out of the pack, and lighting it with his Scripto pocket lighter, he inhaled deeply, smoke escaping his mouth and nose, shrouding his face in a mask of memory, and anticipation. In the main dining room, behind him, one of his waiters, Allan, poured hot tea onto the tables, wiping them down with a white dishcloth.
“Anything yet, Uncle?”
No answer. Chang was already lost in thought.
He had been waiting years for this moment when he and his wife, Renci, would build a new life together in America, along with his three sons, Kuan, Yee, and Tzi, and his two daughters Sue-Yon and Sue-Ying.
An unexpected chill came over him, thrusting him back into a dark past, the night in 1940, when he and Renci dove into the ominous waters of Dapeng Bay, Mainland, China, swimming to freedom in Hong Kong. Fired upon by a police speedboat, narrowly escaping hungry bull sharks, he and his new wife were some of the storied Freedom Swimmers… the ones who survived to be able to see the world again with new eyes; to see light instead of darkness. Never looking back to the political furor and death from which he came, the brutal Japanese invasion of China, Chang and Renci sought the safety and promise of a new chance at life in Hong Kong, but soon faced new threats of terrorism when Mao came into power and wanted to take Hong Kong back from the British. In a large apartment with a communal kitchen, their family grew, the youngest, Tzi, being the only one born in a hospital. Yet, his was, at times, an unsettling childhood as night after night, terrorist explosions would rip apart the family’s sleep, and by morning, British soldiers would have cordoned off the streets with razor wire. Yet again, Chang had to make plans to leave. When they finally were able to immigrate to America, the family was met with new challenges in the form of anti-Asian hate and racism. The resilient sting of the old Chinese Exclusion Act was the invisible net of oppression that once again, ensnarled their hopes and dreams. Some who followed their path to America turned to crime, others to drugs. Chang always maintained his amplitude of self-preservation, drilled into his children at every turn. “Freedom…” he would implore them, “… is the greater opiate.”
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Time Out of Kilter to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.