漫步人生

[转帖]

42楼 蕭振于 2020-03-07 10:29:41

编辑文：
Sometimes we can see broken chariots, amphibious vehicles abandoned on the street. The department store is a three story building, more solemn than the coastal defense, but few consumer goods and rare customers. On the second floor, I took the opportunity to buy imported medicine. In an almost empty counter, I found two boxes of "Liushen Pill" (a traditional Chinese medicine formula), but the saleswoman said it was "only for display" and not for sale. Most of the buildings on the street are one or two floors, and the former shops have now been changed to residential areas. Hanoi is the capital city with a dense population but limited business and lack of cultural activities. The capital shows no sign of prosperity. We came across a beer cart while wandering in the street. Money is happy, but everyone can only buy one. Fortunately, Qian, I didn't drink. Dong only drank a little. So the three of us lined up to buy three glasses of beer. Almost all the beer was drunk by money. Happily wiping his mouth, Qian said he hadn't drunk beer for many years. Qian and Dong go to a leather store to buy leather belts. I found people queuing up to buy popsicles nearby, so I joined them. Each customer can buy two. When the salesman gave me only one, I asked the other in Vietnamese, using my book. The woman didn't understand. She kept me repeating. My clumsy speech almost got me in trouble. If someone recognized me as a cross-border Chinese, it could be a big problem. Fortunately, a woman behind me is a local overseas Chinese, and she immediately provided me with the correct phrase. There are many overseas Chinese in Hanoi

原文：
Sometimes we could see broken chariots, amphibious vehicles abandoned on the streets. The
department store was a three-story building, more stately than those in Haiphong, but with few
consumer goods and rare customers. On the second floor I took the opportunity to buy imported
medicines. In an almost empty counter I found two boxes of "Liushen pills" (A Chinese herb formula),
but the saleswoman said it was "display only" and not for sale.
The buildings on smaller streets were mostly one or two floors, previously shops now converted
to residential houses. Hanoi being the capital, there was a dense population but limited commerce and a
lack of cultural activities. This capital city showed no signs of prosperity.
Wandering the streets we encountered a beer cart. Qian was happy, but each person could only
buy one cup. Fortunately for Qian, I didn't drink and Adong drank only a little. So the three of us lined
up to buy three cups and almost all the beer was drunk by Qian. Wiping his mouth with enjoyment,
Qian said he had not drunk beer for many years.
Qian and Adong stopped by a leather goods store to buy a belt. I found people standing in line
nearby to buy ice lollies (popsicles), so I joined them. Each customer could buy two. When the
saleswoman gave me just one, I asked in Vietnamese for another, using a phrase I had learned from a
book. The woman did not understand and kept asking me to repeat. My awkward speech almost got me
in trouble. If someone had recognized me as a border-crossed Chinese, it might be a big problem.
Luckily, a woman behind me was a local overseas Chinese who immediately supplied the correct
phrase for me. There were many overseas Chinese in Hanoi so it was not unusual to hear someone
speaking Cantonese.
We visited several places of interest, such as the Ba Dinh Square: a place for public assembly or a
festival parade, built during French rule; the Single Pillar Pavilion: a stout pillar erected in a pond and
supporting a pavilion; Hoan Kiem Lake: a lake endowed with myths and legends, a famous scenic spot;
Confucian Temple, etc. These pavilions or temples were similar to those in China, the horizontal
inscribed board and the antithetic couplets were all written in Chinese. Occasionally they were different
characters because Vietnam had modified a few Chinese characters to suit its own culture.
We made a tour around the Hanoi University of Poly-technology. There were a few bare
buildings, no scenery or landscaping, and just a few trees. During the years of war, that was the best
they could do. The famous Red River Bridge (Pont Long Bien) was the main bridge in and out of
Hanoi. When the French ruled, the vehicles traveled to the left; after the new regime took over, they
went to the right in order to link with the national highways. This change in traffic pattern caused a jam
that kept policemen busy and drivers confused. Newspapers reported that during U.S. aircraft bombing,
antiaircraft guns and Soviet-made missiles defended the bridge fiercely, preventing its destruction.
To Visit an Old Classmate
I also took the opportunity to visit Nguyen Tai Thu, who was my classmate at the Beijing Medical
College
Earlier, I had read an article on the development of acupuncture in Vietnam in the "New Vietnam-
China Daily". The author was Nguyen Tai Thu, now the president of Vietnam Acupuncture Society. It
was said that he had been a member of the People's Assembly and later a member of the Committee.
When we were studying at Beijing Medical College, Thu was the deputy head of the Vietnamese
student group in our class. I remembered him as being enthusiastic and approachable, so decided I
would try contacting him in Hanoi. When I consulted Qian, Adong and other friends, they all agreed
that I should go.
In Vietnam, people placed more emphasis on kinship and friendship, unlike in China where the
rule was "class struggle”, "draw a line from the enemy”, and even “refusing to acknowledge family
members”. The local mantra in Vietnam: "First kin, second power, third regulation" meant that family
or kin was more important than official power or law and regulations. Later it added "hook"
(cooperation), and became "First hook, second kin, third power, fourth regulation”, with cooperation
given first priority.
From my experience over the years, I believed that interpersonal relationships remained strong in
Vietnam, encompassing clan, compatriots and schoolmates, as well as nostalgia and friendship. So I
decided to visit Thu.
To be prudent I asked Qian and Adong to see Thu first. Nguyen Tai Thu was a celebrity in Hanoi,
so they had little difficulty finding his address. Thu immediately expressed welcome. The next evening
all three of us went to visit him.
Thu greeted us happily, as warm and enthusiastic as ever.
I smiled and asked, "Do you remember me?"
He kept repeating, "Yes, I remember, I remember." and firmly shook hands.
Thu led us into his large living room. I did not see other family members and forgot to ask about
them. There were a table and two or three chairs by the wall but no other furniture. It seemed a bit bare.
On the walls were several awards issued by Prime Minister Pham Van Dong, most of them just pieces
of paper, only a few framed.
I talked frankly about my present situation. Thu remembered that I was a typical "more
professional than red" student when we were in the Medical College. He also knew, of course, about
the current Cultural Revolution in China. He offered to help me, saying he was friendly with the
Director of the Public Security Bureau of Quang Ninh Province (where Tien Yen County was located).
As we talked, another visitor arrived and Thu introduced me to him. He was from the Prime
Minister's office and shook hands with us politely. He spoke briefly with Thu and then left.
We talked for a while longer before saying goodbye. Thu saw us to the door, expressing hope that
we would visit him again later.
After we had been back in Tien Yen for more than a month, one evening Adong asked me to visit
Dr. Mei of the County Hospital to consult about his father’s diabetes. Dr. Mei greeted us warmly.
During our conversation, I was surprised when she said, "I went to Hanoi for a meeting two weeks ago.
Dr. Thu (Nguyen Tai Thu) came over and said, 'Please take care of my old classmate.’ I did not
understand at first but then realized that his old classmate is you; although I hadn't seen you before, I
had heard about you already." She continued, "Dr. Thu was in charge of the meeting but I didn't know
him previously. Perhaps he heard that I had come from Tien Yen and that is why he spoke to me of
you."
Hearing what Dr. Mei said, I knew that Thu was sincere in helping me. Although his effort was
ultimately unsuccessful, I was still grateful to him.
When I was repatriated to China many years later, one of my classmates told me that Nguyen Tai
Thu on behalf of the Ministry of Health of Vietnam had invited our former classmates of Beijing
Medical College as a delegation to Vietnam for an academic exchange. Thu asked them about me (my
classmates didn't then know I had wandered in Vietnam), expressing his warm regard. I requested my
classmate to forward my best wishes to Nguyen Tai Thu whenever he had the chance.

43楼 蕭振于 2020-03-10 08:41:30

编辑文：
Deng Wan put it in the palm of his hand and said, "fried is delicious." The worm was white and shaped like an oval meatball; one side was scratched by a saw; a pair of small, black fangs protruded from the front; the only black hard part of the worm. Deng Wan said that the wood insect was bitten by two front teeth and lived in the woods all his life. I think it's interesting that woodworms spend their whole lives in holes in wood and know nothing about the outside world. What could be the meaning of such a life? Soon, some villagers began to ask me to treat their diseases. One reason is that I have recovered my cousin Tian's wife's stomachache; the other is that I have cured a patient of postpartum hemorrhage. She was pale and frail, and many thought she would die. I gave her an iron dose of vitamin C, which she's increasing every day, and she'll be able to do housework soon. Soon, the family held a party for the baby on his one month birthday. The Deng family and I were invited. I gave them 10 Duns of red packets, more than the total cost of my three people 8 Duns, including drug visits. I was asked to treat a child who fell from a tree and broke his right thumb bone. The child's aunt is a famous "goddess" in the local area. Many villagers around asked her to make divination. She is blind, but every time she divines, she can catch mosquitoes, flies or other insects, saying it is because of evil. It's amazing! The caller relayed her words and asked me to help her nephew as much as I could, and she would pay. She is known to have money. I went to the sick boy's house and found a man

原文：
Family Letters Conveyed Sorrow and Joy

I had fled to Vietnam alone, my wife had narrowly escaped to Hong Kong, and my parents,
siblings and little daughter all were in Guangzhou. What was their current situation? Although they
were in difficulty, they were more concerned about me who had fled to an “uncivilized place” with no
kin or relatives and a language barrier. Thus separated, all of us lived with worry and anxiety.
Therefore, whenever I got a chance, I would request someone to help send a letter from Dongxing to
Guangzhou to inform the family of my "peace”, although it was not a real peace.
I dared not send a letter directly to my home address. Even when I asked someone to mail my
letter from Dongxing, it was sent to a different address arranged by my sisters. For a long time I could
only mail letters to friends in Guangzhou, but could not receive letters until I had moved to Tien Yen.
I remained friendly with Uncle Ching who still lived in his evacuation hut at the west side of
Dong Hoa. Learning that Uncle Ching had relatives in China, I asked if he would accept letters for me
from Guangzhou. He promised readily, and gave me his postal address in Tien Yen Town. In this way, I
could receive family letters directly from Guangzhou. Later my sister found a returned overseas
Chinese from Vietnam who lived Guangzhou and begged him to receive my letters. The old man
agreed, so then I could mail letters from Vietnam to Guangzhou directly. However, the address was
used only three times and then closed when the old man was questioned by police.
I used Uncle Ching’s address for several years. After I was detained by the police, Uncle Ching
still received two or three letters from my family. But he could not risk handing them to me nor could
he reply. I realized my parents and family were in great anxiety, not knowing if I were dead or alive.
Since I could mail letters directly from Tien Yen or Haiphong to Hong Kong, I was trying to find
someone to receive letters to me from Hong Kong. At first Feng Gang of Haiphong was willing to help
and received and forwarded a few letters to me. This arrangement had to be terminated after the fiasco
involving the sea captain. Later I found an old gentleman in Tien Yen who had friend in Hong Kong
willing to help. This allowed me to resume communicating with my wife Yu Ou and my sister and,
hopefully, end years of mutual anxiety.
But one day I received a letter from Yu Ou, saying, "Day after day, a couple of years passed
quickly, my situation has become more and more difficult. I felt helpless as a woman. Do you
remember what we joked before? As the old saying goes: 'A man without wife is no lord at home; a
woman without husband is no lord for herself.’ Though it acts against my will, I have to think to marry
another. I'm really unfair to you, can you forgive me?"
I felt a sting in my heart, seeing the inevitable finally happening. Scenes from the past reappeared
one after another in my brain. I recalled the year at the Beijing Medical College when I wholeheartedly
concentrated on studying. More than half my schoolmates were girls, some expressing affection for me.
But I remained indifferent to focus on my studies. The Suburban District of the Medical College was in
the Eight College Zone, and the eight colleges were neighboring. Tsinghua University and Peking
University (previously Beijing Medical College was one of the colleges of Peking University) were
also not far away. Every weekend there were movies, drama performances or a dance party in Medical
School, and hordes of male students from other colleges came. We laughed and said, "There are hordes
of toads coming who want to eat swan meat!" However, I myself remained stoic. As the saying goes:
“Sitting in a waterfront pavilion gets the moonlight first”, but I had no desire even to look at the moon.
The only female face occasionally appearing in my mind at that time was Yu Ou. Whenever I
thought of her innocence and her being persecuted and aggrieved because of religious belief, I could
feel the pain of that injustice. After her release, rejecting all dissuasion and warnings, I was determined
to marry her. We wished to let the past be past, and begin our lives anew.
Together we imagined our future: I would apply for a job back in Guangzhou and become a
doctor in a community clinic. As I worked earnestly to heal patients they, in turn, would be good to me.
Yu Ou would continue to bring plastic dolls home from the street service station to paint, providing a
modest but flexible income. If she could get another suitable job, that would be even better. Hopefully,
through our hard work, we would build a better life together. Anyway, our goals were simple and
seemed realistic.
We soon encountered cold reality. In order not to be separated for a long time, so called "until
reaching the age of white hair" (the popular saying at that time), we had asked friends to help find a job
opportunity for me in or near Guangzhou. But my application was rejected again and again because my
wife was a "released counter revolutionary”. Yu Ou was under “masses control” and the incantation of
Golden Hoop (government control) was getting more and more frequent. Then disaster hit like a bolt
from the blue, the ruthless bar of the Cultural Revolution forcing us to fly like mandarin ducks in
separate directions.
I realized now that her desire to remarry was out of desperation. Alone in Hong Kong (by local
custom she was still called "Mrs. Zeng"), how could she continue to cope with daily life and social
pressure? Missing and hunting her caged husband and daughter, her various attempts to rescue me had
ended in failure. My exile seemed nowhere near an end and more danger could lie ahead. What reason
could I give to demand that my beloved one spend her youthful years waiting hopelessly?
With a heavy heart I replied, "I understand very well and entirely agree with you. Wish you
happiness forever."
Respectful of Catholic marriage laws, she contacted Father O'Mara (former parish priest in
Guangzhou deported to Hong Kong by Chinese Communists) who consulted with the bishop’s office.
It was determined this was a special case of exceptional circumstances and Yu Ou was permitted to
remarry. A few years later Yu Ou and her family immigrated to Canada where they enjoyed a happy
life. After my family and I immigrated to the United States, Yu Ou and I got in touch and gave thanks
to God for his mercy.
One Sunday after I had just finished treating a patient in Uncle Daan’s hut, my friend came from
the town bringing me a letter from Hong Kong. Glancing at the envelope, I was pleasantly surprised to
see my third brother’s handwriting!
I could not wait to open it. Brother Third wrote of his arrival in Hong Kong by “waterway”! I
certainly knew that meant he fled by swimming. The letter was very simple. However, it was enough!
Years later I learned that he and a zhiqing classmate, after a seven-day journey of hiding by day and
walking by night in the mountains (my own experience, so I was fully aware of its hardship and
dangers). They had entered the sea somewhere in Bao-an County and swam for a few hours,
successfully arriving in Hong Kong.
I could mentally picture my strong and tall third brother (he is 1.88 meters tall) and his classmate
proceeding bravely together to the sea and resolutely swimming to a future of freedom. I closed my
eyes and lifted my head up to heaven: Another family member escaped successfully. Thank God for His
Providence again.
I recalled many years later that during the 10-year calamity of the Cultural Revolution, I
experienced a world of suffering and hardship, but there were three events that made me happy - very
happy: the first was Yu Ou successfully fleeing to Hong Kong; the second was receiving this letter from
my third brother; but the third was yet to come.
Seeking Refuge with ‘Cousins’ in Bac Giang
Dong Hoa villagers were kind and friendly. But there were always several border-crossed Chinese
drawing attention from the Vietnamese police. After escaping several raids, Deng Er, Deng Wan and I
wanted to find an alternate place to stay. Deng Er had a distant aunt in Bac Giang Province. He and
Deng Wan had visited her several times and recently someone there requested them to do carpentry. I
asked to go with them.
Deng Er was reluctant at first, worried that my practice of medicine might attract attention of the
police. I proposed to go and see, saying that if the situation was suitable, I could apply for a moving
permit to officially settle down. Deng Er talked with Deng Wan and they agreed that I could try. They
also realized that if they themselves fell ill, being undocumented, it would be difficult to get medical
care. So my presence would benefit them as well. They agreed that I could accompany them.
We were going to Coffee Village of X Commune, X County, Bac Giang Province, more than a
hundred kilometers away from Tien Yen. It took about two days on our bicycles. The two Dengs
brought their carpentry tools; I brought two packets of medicine. We prepared dry food and water and
simple baggage; we also bought dried squid or dry sand worm for gifts, because this kind of seafood
was rather rare inland. Deng Wan had just learned to ride a bike recently and his bike chain became
loose several times. Fortunately, I brought a simple kit of tools and helped him adjust the chain. We
rarely encountered another person along the way and knew not where to find a bicycle repair shop.
It was hot and we were sweating. Suddenly a heavy rain came. We put on plastic raincoats and
bamboo hats, but the water still flowed over our heads and necks. The wind blew, pulling at our
raincoats and hats, making us look somewhat ridiculous. Finally, seeing they were doing no good, we
took them off and continued to ride on.
That evening, we arrived at a small market and lodged with a relative of Deng Er. The family
treated us warmly. When we left the next day, we thanked and gave the host a packet of dry squid. At
two or three o’clock in the afternoon we arrived at Coffee Village. We boarded and lodged with two
sons of Deng Er's aunt. I followed the two Dengs to meet Cousin Da and Cousin Nee. Deng Er's aunt
lived with her youngest son.
Coffee Village included both ethnic Chinese and Vietnamese but the majority was Chinese. The
houses were scattered on hilly land and were mostly built with compacted earthen walls or muddy
bamboo mats. Residents had three meals a day, with rice porridge or yam for breakfast and lunch, and
rice for dinner. In addition to the collective labor of the production team, every family cultivated slopes
for sesame. It was said that they planted coffee trees in the past, thus the name Coffee Village. Now it
was easier just to plant sesame, which required only sowing the seeds by season and then harvesting.
No weeding was necessary because, it was said, "sesame grows faster than weed”.
The two Dengs began work at the home where they had a prior appointment. I watched them saw
wood for a while and noticed a wood worm about two centimeters long fall from a hole in the wood.

44楼 蕭振于 2020-03-10 08:42:59

45楼 蕭振于 2020-03-14 01:51:16

编辑文：
offee village household registration

In the afternoon, I went back to coffee village and asked cousin Ni to show my moving permit and send it to the commune and then to the county police station. Now that I have my Hukou as a formal identity, I can walk around in public and sleep at night. Happily nibbling away a part of his front room with a bamboo mat provided me with a single bamboo bed.
I told nee I was almost killed by a red cap bomb. Perhaps accustomed to hearing things like this, he said without surprise, "lucky, lucky." Beijiang province was bombed several times before. Once, Ni took me to visit the former chairman of the commune who helped me to get a permit to move. The chairman's house is also a shabby hut with a compacted earth wall and thatched roof. When discussing the American plane explosion, he walked into the room and carefully took out a small barrel shaped warhead to show us, saying that he and other villagers had taken the bomb and dismantled it. He's going to ask someone to open it later because the dynamite is worth some money. I was shocked to learn that he hid the warhead under the bed. Didn't he worry about the accidental explosion smashing him on the spot? Watching him carry the bullet back to his bedroom, I still shiver! Despite my new "official" status, the villagers still think that I am a cross-border Chinese who privately wants to know how I got the move permit. But they're happy that I have status. Now there is a doctor in the village, which is convenient to see a doctor. Soon, the commune held An'an

原文：
Registered Residence at Coffee Village

I returned to Coffee Village in the afternoon and asked Cousin Nee to present my moving permit
to the commune and then forward it to the County Police Station. Now that I had a registered residence
and an official identity, I could move around openly and sleep peacefully at night. Nee happily
partitioned a portion of his front room with bamboo mats and provided a single bamboo bed for me.
I told Nee that I was almost killed by the bombing in Hong Gai. Perhaps used to hearing such
things, he showed no surprise and just said, "Lucky, lucky.” Bac Giang Province also had been bombed
several times before. Once Nee took me to visit the ex-chairman of the commune who had helped me
receive the moving permit.
The chairman's house was also a shabby hut with compacted earth walls and thatched roof.
Discussing the U.S. aircraft bombing, he entered the room inside and brought out with great care a
small bucket-like warhead to show us, saying that it was obtained when he and other villagers
dismantled an unexploded bomb. He planned to ask someone to open it later because the dynamite was
worth some money. I was flabbergasted to learn that he kept the warhead under his bed. Did he not
worry about an accidental detonation smashing him to pieces on the spot? Watching him carry the
warhead back to his bedroom, I still quivered!
Despite my new "official" identity, the villagers still regarded me as a border-crossed Chinese and
privately wondered how I obtained the moving permit. But they were happy that I had an identity. After
all, now there was a doctor in the village, making it more convenient to get medical attention.
Soon the commune held its annual election. I also was eligible to vote. Many days before the
election, banners with "Go to vote!" were seen everywhere, and the radio broadcast also called people
to vote. On Election Day voters stood in line to circle candidates on their ballots, place them in the
ballot box, and wait for the authority to announce the winners.
The ethnic Chinese chairman then appeared, greeting everyone and trying to appear cheerful, and
announced: "This is my last day as chairman."
The new chairman was a Vietnamese.
Radio
On our way back, cousin Da had taken me to the home of one of his relatives. The host was more
than 40 years old, of medium height with short hair and a small round face, and very clever eyes. He
had heard of me before and welcomed us warmly. He told his wife, "Go to cook the rice porridge to
treat the guests," then asked their children to pick and bring back ears of tender corn. We helped strip
off the grains for cooking.
The couple’s two children were adopted, a boy twelve and another seven. However, the younger
boy was higher in order of clan seniority than the older one, so the twelve-year-old was required to
serve the tea and rice to all including his seven-year-old “uncle”. This demonstrated that the family still
observed seriously Chinese traditional Confucianism regarding order of seniority.
At lunch we had fried peanuts and corn. I had never eaten such delicious tender corn, probably
because it was freshly picked. To my surprise we also were served white dry rice rather than "rice
porridge". I recognized this as a form of modesty that had been popular among Chinese folks in the
past, such as saying "simple dinner" for banquet, and referring one’s own child as a "puppy", and so on.
The overseas Chinese still retained this courteous and modest custom. However, after many years of
“class struggle” in China, all these niceties were thrown away beyond the highest heavens.
During lunch our host said he was going to Dongxing to buy a "station" - a transistor radio. The
Vietnamese called the radio a "station" because radio programs came from the broadcasting station. He
also said he knew someone in the County Police Station who would register it for him. In Vietnam it
was required that a radio purchase be registered with the police.
Radio was one of the advanced goods in Vietnam. Together with a bicycle and a wristwatch, the
three were regarded as a symbol of wealth and status. There was a popular tune, saying:
I don't love the first-class soldier,
I don't love the second-class soldier,
(because) he has only five dong a month,
a month only five bucks.
…... …...
Looking, looking, I found a lieutenant,
The lieutenant is old,
but he has a lot of money.
See, a “station” hung on the shoulder,
and a watch worn on the left hand.
Therefore, a "station" hung on the shoulder was very chic. A lot of people liked to sing this song
with great affection.
So our host went to Dongxing and bought a "station". a Panda transistor radio. He was so happy
that he carried it around day and night, showing it to everyone. For some reason, it never was registered
with the police, but I didn’t know why.
Coffee Village Stories
It was very hot for a couple of days following a broadcasted warning that a heat wave was passing
over. The head of the Coffee Village production team was a loud-mouthed ethnic Chinese. He declared,
spraying saliva: “Humph! They said that the U.S. aircraft found the heat wave, and chased and drove it
to Hanoi. No wonder Hanoi was so hot in these two days that people called for help.” He further
complained: "The Yankee has advanced science, even the weather is subject to his command!"
I found that although the political atmosphere of the whole country was anti-American, the mood
of admiring America was sometimes evidenced among the folks.
The former head of Coffee Village was a man known throughout the area for reading many
"Tang" or classic Chinese books. Three years previously, he suffered an epileptic seizure. After that he
resigned and began working in finance. He was gentle and was very friendly to me.
During a chat with him, I learned that the locals had a habit of eating raw pork and beef. I
immediately thought that his epilepsy might be due to brain cysticercosis caused by pig tapeworm.
After further questioning, he said that someone had expelled a sort of "long tape" in his stool during a
bowel movement. I explained it was tapeworm, and urged no further consumption of raw pork or beef,
especially "rice pork" (pork with something like grains of white rice embedding on it). I also told him
that the seeds of pumpkin produced locally could be taken to expel the tapeworm. He was very
interested and said that if he had had known it before, he might not have gotten sick.
Someone from a neighboring commune came to see me for his stomachache. He was tall and thin,
with two prominent canine teeth and flickering eyes. He claimed to be the head of the production team,
and described his ailment: "I don't know why, but almost everyone on the leadership has this disease."
It seemed that he was very proud of being "the leader".
I gave him medication and made an appointment for him to return after two days. Before leaving,
he said he would pay later. But after four visits, he thought he was healed, no longer came, and ignored
the debt. Two weeks later, he came back saying that it hurt again. So I gave him medication again and
asked him to pay, but he said he forgot to bring money with him. I told him that he had to complete a
course of six treatments. However, after five visits he again stopped coming.
Later a Coffee villager passing by his house reported that he had said: "Humph! That Chinese
guy, I didn't call police to catch him is good enough, how could he dare to ask me to pay?" I dismissed
it with a laugh. However, the villagers saw this was unfair and urged me to ignore him afterwards. I
remembered in the past I had encountered a similar situation in Dong Hoa. "The same rice feeds
hundreds of different people". Anyway, such cases were rare.
A person from a commune visited Cousin Nee. I noticed that the man had no earlobes. After he
left, when I asked Nee why, he laughed and said, "He is the former Party secretary of a commune. They
have an unwritten rule: Anyone who is caught in adultery should have his ears cut off. Would the Feng
Shui be unfavorable? Three consecutive Party secretaries have had ears cut off. This man tried to rape a
female high school student. The girl pretended to submit, but suddenly grabbed his ‘spring bag’
(scrotum) before proceeding, pinching and pulling. The man cried in pain and was totally immobilized.
People came and caught him. Instead of cutting off his ears, the student’s father showed mercy and
only cut off his ear lobes with trembling hands."
I had never heard such an intriguing tale and could not help but laugh. I thought this was an
effective means of resisting rape. I also could see that in Vietnam the traditional moral code was still so
powerful that even Party officials who violated the rules had to obediently accept punishment. In
China, that would only be a fantasy.
Thanh was the work-point recorder of the production team. He was a Vietnamese, the son of a
tailor. When the villagers asked the tailor to make clothes, he would measure, cut right away, and return
any extra cloth to the customer immediately, so he had a good reputation. Despite this craft, his family
was still poor.
Thanh’s family was friendly to the two Dengs and asked them to make some furniture. The Dengs
spoke only limited Vietnamese, and Thanh's family spoke a combination of Chinese and Vietnamese.
Soon Thanh's youngest sister fell in love with Deng Wan, and they talked about marriage. I was happy
but also worried for them: Deng Wan didn’t have a legal identity, so what would happen in the future? I
didn't know how the Thanh family felt about it. Anyway, they were married.
Six months after I left Coffee Village, the problem I feared actually happened: Deng Wan was
deported back to China. But after some time he returned. This back-and-forth was repeated over and
over again for several years, including during the era of worsening Sino-Vietnamese relations. The
difficulty for this couple could only be imagined. But finally Deng Wan was able to obtain his Vietnam
ID and the lovers formed a family.
Residence Registration Revoked
My good times didn't last long. I was a person with ID for only two months before the County
Police Station notified the commune that I must obtain a "formal" moving permit. My blood suddenly
chilled: My residence registration was broken! They did not directly arrest me and gave me a way out,
probably because I had healed some patients and had a good reputation. Anyway, the Vietnamese
authorities were more humane; this was my experience from wandering in North Vietnam for many
years.
I packed up my things and headed back to Tien Yen. Before leaving, I wanted to express my
gratitude to Cousin Nee. His wife was weak and could not do heavy work, so I gave him money to buy
a used sewing machine she could use to help support the family. I also gave a little money and a set of
used clothes to Aunt and Cousin Da. In this way, I changed from being a person with ID not needing to
be alert day and night for two months, to one who had again lost everything!
Back to Dong Hoa, I found Uncle Daan happy and asking why I had been away so long. The
villagers also were concerned and asked. I told them I was in Bac Giang but didn't mention Coffee
Village. Soon there were patients to visit me.
Seeking a New Foothold
The situation in Northern Vietnam was always up and down, depending on the war in the South.
Adong was public security agent of the town community. One day he came to Dong Hoa, warned me
that police recently had been checking strangers more often, and advised that I go to town less
frequently. He also said that if I wished, he might take me inland to visit one of his relatives. There I
might find a place to settle. There were few border-crossed Chinese inland, unlike Dong Hoa where
they were objects of unwanted attention.
Of course I was willing and very grateful for his sincerity for trying once again to help me. This
time he would take me to Nam Dinh, the third metro city in North Vietnam. Riding our bikes, we
passed through Hong Gai, Haiphong, and on the third day afternoon arrived at Adong’s relative’s home
in the suburbs of Nam Dinh. This commune was mainly Vietnamese with only a dozen Chinese
households. Adong talked with his relatives about finding a foothold for me. The host said there had
never been "Chinese" there and he was not in power in the commune, so he was unable to help.
After dinner, he chatted with us about the terrible bombing at a military uniform factory nearby
last year: "Everyone in the village had to go to shoulder the corpses to bury. What was a corpse? Only a
head or a leg or just a piece of flesh with blood. You carried it on the shoulder and were stained with
the blood on your head and face and body; it was just like a vampire and really scary!"
Then he said: "It is said that there will be bombing again. Alas! I am worrying about where to
evacuate the two kids."
"Why not come to Tien Yen?" Adong suggested.
"Oh, that is difficult too!" He sighed.
We had to return without any result. On our way back through Haiphong and Hong Gai, friends
told us that they received an evacuation notice again. They were cleaning out an abandoned air-raid
shelter in the suburbs of Hon Gai. We stayed one night and hastened back to Tien Yen.
The following day, Adong came to Dong Hoa

46楼 蕭振于 2020-03-14 01:55:11

编辑文：The next day, a Dong came to Donghua and said to me, "yesterday we just left honggai. U and American planes bombed. The place where we drank the iced sugar water was bombed to ruins. Fortunately, we left in time, otherwise. He added, "I don't know if the girls who sell us ice sugar water have been killed. After the explosion, the police stopped all the passers-by and gave everyone a excavator. " Once again, I barely passed by! A Dong said that his wife received an evacuation notice two days ago, so he came to Donghua and wanted to rebuild his cottage in the old place and open a bicycle repair shop, "making a dollar is a dollar." Within a few days, many residents from Tianya Town, Hongji and Haiphong came here to build a simple hut on the road to Donghua. County hospitals and other county units were evacuated to the north slope of Donghua. I have been advised to be more careful during this period, because the police will pay more attention to strangers. Therefore, I take turns to hide in different homes during the day, more often sleeping in sugar at night on sugarcane fields or mountains. I slept well in the cowshed one day. I went to Uncle Qing to see if I had any letters from Guangzhou. I found a cowshed in the south of a lonely mountain. When I asked whose cowshed it was, uncle Qing said it belonged to whose town people sea. Hai is a lumberjack. He keeps two buffalo to pull his woods. He put buffalo in at night. I asked Uncle Qing if Hai would let me sleep there at night. Uncle Qing also thinks this is a good place. The next day, uncle Qingshu reported the case, "Haiwei said for another person, he disagreed. B

47楼 蕭振于 2020-03-17 08:37:34

编辑文：
Apply for temporary residence

The reunification of the north and the south means that there will be no bombing, no evacuation, and no fear of conscription for young people. During the Vietnam War, the situation of the cross-border Chinese was ups and downs. Now
The war is over. We want to know what the Vietnamese government will do to us. Can we stay? Anything else? On the positive side, I have learned from time to time that the situation in China has gradually eased and I have begun to consider whether I should come back. To this end, I made some preparations, such as asking someone to help exchange RMB. I cautiously used vague words to advise my family of intentions. However, I still have to eat here, sleep there and watch out for the police. Other friends of Adong helped me find a legal residence several times. In spite of their failure, I appreciate them. Later, a Dong suggested that he could talk directly with DAC, the head of the county police station, to see if he would give me a legal temporary residence. I agreed. Two months later, Dong conveyed the DAC's request that I submit my application. So I wrote to say that I met difficulties in China and crossed the border to Vietnam. I have been a patient for almost seven years. I hope the Vietnamese government will give me a temporary resident so that I can continue to serve the patients with peace of mind. The application was translated from Adong to Vietnamese, and it was also original in China. DAC told me to wait and don't worry. It seems reassuring; at least I don't have an emergency. Although I'm still eating and sleeping, it's not necessary

原文：
Applying for Temporary Residence

South and North reunited meant no more bombing, no evacuation, and young men no longer
worried about conscription.
The situation of the border-crossed Chinese had been up and down during the Vietnam War. Now
that the war was over, we wondered what the Vietnamese government would do with us. Could we stay
there any longer?
On the positive side, I learned from time to time that the situation in China had eased gradually,
and began considering if I should return. To this end, I made some preparation, such as asking someone
to help with Chinese currency exchange. I cautiously advised my family in vague terms of my
intention.
However, I still had to have a meal here and a sleep there, and always beware of the police. Adong
and other friends had helped me several times trying to find a legal place to stay. Although
unsuccessful, I was very grateful to them. Later Adong suggested that he could talk directly with Dac,
head of the County Police Station, to see if he would give me a temporary legal residence. I agreed.
Two months later, Adong conveyed Dac’s request that I submit an application. So I wrote, saying
I had encountered hardship in China and crossed the border to Vietnam. I provided health care to
patients for almost seven years. I hoped that the Vietnamese government gave me temporary resident
status so I could continue to service patients with peace of mind.
The application was translated into Vietnamese by Adong and handed over together with the
Chinese original. Dac told me to wait and not to worry. That seemed reassuring; at least I was in no
immediate danger. Although I still had meals and slept here and there, it was not necessary to sleep in
the wilderness.
My previous medical training class was expanded and was semi-public at this time.
After a period of time, Adong conveyed Dac’s word to me. He wanted me to apply for
"naturalization in Vietnam" (joining the Vietnamese nationality) instead of "temporary residence". I
was reluctant and made no change.
Some time later, Dac asked to see me personally. Adong accompanied me to the Police Station
where Dac greeted me courteously. Our conversation was translated by Adong but sometimes Dac
spoke directly in Cantonese. His main point was still “naturalization in Vietnam”. It seemed he attached
great importance to this issue.
I said in a mild and roundabout way, "As my family is in China, I hope that the Vietnamese
government will give me a temporary residence. I guarantee that as long as I stay in Vietnam, I will do
my best to service patients. Later returning to China, I will remember you, continue our contacts and
keep the friendship."
I could see that Dac was not very happy, but he did not say anything, just telling me to wait for
the news. In the days following I heard vague rumors that my resistance to naturalization might put me
at risk.
A former patient of mine sent a message to me that he had something important to tell me. The
man was a veteran and a member of commune public security. I was alarmed and went to his single
hut, but the door was locked. He was a bachelor and not always at home. As it was far to his hut, I did
not return. I naively believed that because I had turned in the application I would necessarily receive a
reply, either positive or negative. If they notified me that my application was not approved, I would go
back to China myself.
After a few more weeks, on some day in October 1975, Adong told me that someone from the
Provincial Public Security Bureau wanted to see me.
I expressed doubts: "Would that not mean there is a problem?" Adong did not know. However, I
still thought very innocently, “Since I had applied, I must have a response.”
Preparing for whatever might be ahead, I packed a few clothes, a winter coat, and a towel and
toothbrush, and then went with Adong to the police station. It was not Dac but a man from the
Provincial Public Security Bureau who met with us. He was very polite, asking me in Cantonese to
accompany him to the bureau.
The Public Security Bureau was in Hong Gai, so I said goodbye to Adong and followed the
policeman to the bus station. Before arriving at the bus station my escort took me to a house at the end
of the street and directed me to take a rest first. It was Qian’s Vietnamese cousin’s home! Being so
close to the police station, I didn't understand why I should rest here instead of at the station. As we sat
for a while with Qian’s cousin, I considered excusing myself to use the toilet and then slip away. But I
quickly gave up the idea, still clinging to the belief that since I had applied for temporary residence, I
must receive a response.
We crossed the ferry, took a bus and arrived at Hon Gai near evening. The police were already off
work; my escort said we would stay at his friend’s house that night. I did not question why we were not
going to the Guest House of the Public Security Bureau or another public facility. That should have
been the normal procedure but I did not think of that until later.
I followed my police escort into a small hut with a bamboo bed and a dining table in the front
room. I did not know how many rooms were inside. The host treated us to a simple dinner. They talked
in Vietnamese, so I didn't understand much. After dinner, the host arranged for us to sleep. His family
members and the policeman slept inside, leaving me to sleep alone in the front room. The hut was
small, so how could they accommodate a guest inside? Why not arrange the police to sleep with me in
the front room? But at that time I didn't think about that.
I was tossing and turning and could not sleep well. What would happen tomorrow? I was aware of
possible danger, and again considered the idea of escape. But if I ran out, surely the neighborhood dogs
would bark. Anyway, I still stubbornly clung to the idea that since I had applied, I must receive an
answer. If I was not approved, then I would just go back to China myself.
The next day after the breakfast, the policeman produced a document and officially detained me. I
read the document, really surprised that it was signed by the chief of the Public Security Bureau! I
knew this was unusual, because the repatriation of border-crossed Chinese was a trifling thing, nothing
that needed to be ordered by the chief of the Public Security Bureau, nor requiring that an officer be
sent specially to Tien Yen to bring me here. Just notifying the local police to arrest me would have been
quite enough.
Detained
No matter, I was detained. Perhaps my mind was somewhat prepared for this or maybe I had
simply become numb after many years in and out of detention. Anyway, I felt no great shock.
The policeman directed me forward and followed quietly, handing me over to another officer in
the reception room and then left. There was only prison in Vietnam but no “detention center” like in
China.
A policeman sitting behind a table, and a short man about 40 years old (later known as a "jail
aide") approached me with a stern face. He motioned me to take off all clothes except my underpants.
He kneaded the seams of them but found nothing, and then checked the other clothes one by one. In
addition to cash totaling a dozen dong, he found only a straightened gold ring hidden in my waistband.
After the jail aide left, the policeman began asking in Cantonese about my name, age and address.
As I did not have address in Vietnam, he asked me to report the place I stayed most frequently in Dong
Hoa village, Tien Yen County; then my address in China. I had reported it when I applied for temporary
residence, so I did so again.
After this inquiry, I was sent to Cell No. 125.
There were already four prisoners in the cell: two Vietnamese and two Chinese. All four got up to
greet me in Vietnamese and Chinese respectively; I identified myself to them as "Chinese" in both
Vietnamese and Chinese.
The two Vietnamese seemed displeased and sank back on their boards on the ground, but the two
Chinese expressed a weary welcome. Later I understood that the Vietnamese resented my coming in
and making the Chinese in the cell dominant.
By now my mood was basically calm. I didn't wonder how the Vietnamese government would
handle me, because I knew all border-crossed Chinese were repatriated, and nothing else. Of course, I
was worried that back in China I would be subject to investigation and denouncement, and might
encounter all sorts of suffering and humiliation. Would I be charged with "treason" and be sentenced to
prison, or even be beaten and slain in a completely lawless way?
But I also had learned that the abuses of the Cultural Revolution had eased, and there was less and
less news about fighting and killing between the two factions. In fact, I had not seen or heard of any
Chinese who fled to Vietnam for a long time. As long as I did not encounter lawless fighting and
slaying, I was not afraid of investigation, because I had never done anything criminal. In addition, I
also knew that China and Vietnam were friendly countries and were "comrades plus brothers"; crossing
the border into Vietnam was not regard as against the law. Just like fleeing to Hong Kong, it simply was
a "violation of border regulations". Wasn't it true that some border-crossed Chinese even returned to
Vietnam not long after being repatriated to Dongxing? At least that was the case for those in
Guangdong and Guangxi. But what would happen to me in Kunming? I did not know. But I thought the
same rule would be followed.
On the other hand, for several years, I had intermittently read the “New Vietnam-China Daily” (in
Chinese) and the "People Daily" (in Vietnamese), and learned of several major events in China: China
and the Soviet fought for Zhenbao Island; Mao's "close comrade-in-arms" Lin Biao escaped and died;
and, what surprised the Dong Hoa villagers most, was that the number one enemy common of Vietnam
and China - the President of U.S. imperialism shook hands with Mao.
When newspapers published Mao’s picture showing him aged and puffy, many people said "it
looks bad.” Others said even more bluntly, "Old Mao's fate is up.” All in all, I felt that the situation in
China had been improving. The idea of returning had gradually grown in my mind. I also hinted at my
intention when I wrote to my family in Guangzhou. When applying for temporary residence, I naively
thought that if it was not approved, I would automatically go back to China. But I really didn't expect
the application to be denied and me to be forcibly repatriated. That was to bring more suffering and
humiliation.
Regarding such suffering and humiliation, I had experienced quite a lot over the years, but
believed I could survive more in the future if necessary. Be calm facing the sufferings, I reasoned, and
this chaos would pass away. The "Great Leader" wanted people to hail him "live forever", but he could
not live forever.
Be strong, time was on my side!
I calmly recalled my experiences during this period: From applying for temporary residence I was
requested to apply for naturalization instead. In my interview, Police Chief Dac personally requested
this again but I still was unwilling to change; apparently my fate of "cannot stay" already had been
decided. Later during the waiting period, I heard troubling rumors and was privately given a message
of "something important to tell you", but still did not become concerned. In addition, I was not detained
by local police but by an officer specially sent from the Provincial Public Security Bureau to Tien Yen
to take me to Hon Gai; and before going to the bus station we took a rest at Qian cousin’s house; when
arriving at Hon Gai we stayed one night at the policeman’s relative's home instead of an official place;
the policeman let me sleep alone at the front room - all unusual procedures that offered me
opportunities to escape. But I still did not perceive this, clinging to the idea that "since I applied, there
must be a result, if it's not approved, I will automatically go back". So I made no effort to evade or
escape. These events and how I had handled them now told me the way I must go. It was somehow my
destiny to go through more sufferings.
Just do what God wills, and pray that God will support me.
Now, after more than a decade, I realize what might have been my fate if I had been allowed
temporary residence at that time: Three years later, in 1978, China and Vietnam changed from
"comrade plus brother" to mutual hatred. Overseas Chinese were massively expelled by the Vietnam
government. I would definitely have been driven back to China. With my "record" as "cow demon and
snake spirit" in the Cultural Revolution and fleeing to Vietnam, I would not have been allowed to settle
like other Vietnamese overseas Chinese. I might well have been charged with treason. What then would
have been my fate?
Now I see my denial of temporary residence as "A blessing in disguise" – that is indeed a
profound philosophy.
T

　 1 789 12 　

电脑版 Page created in 0.3125 seconds width 4 queries.