Emigrants at a Loss --The Story of Gloria Chan

Her story is told partly through her poems.

Located in the Kowloon Tong area, Baptist University is a typical Hong Kong private university. Within a small, cramped area, huge classroom buildings are wedged together in tight rows. Two stands of bamboo in the central courtyard are the only greenery the campus offers. Every day 3000 students enter here in a jostling throng.

Inside such a stressful and congested campus, there is one rare space which offers some relief. Students suffering immense pressure can come here, relax and browse; they can enjoy newspapers, magazines, music, instant noodles, coffee and candied fruit; they can even take a short nap on the carpeted floor.

Gloria Chan, who oversees this little cosmos of study, has been back from Canada for four years now. Her attire is simple and plain; nowhere on her person can one detect the presence of a fashion accessory. Judging from her ordinary appearance, one would hardly guess that she is an amateur poet.

"I would rather be from Taiwan or mainland China, not from Hong Kong." Although she appears to be quite gentle, the way Chan speaks is surprising, revealing the rebellious side of her nature.

If one day we meet again

Gloria Chan emigrated to Canada in 1987. Her father had once been a general for the Nationalist army during the war against the Japanese; her mother graduated from the Guangzhou Women's Teachers' College. When the mainland fell to the Communists, the whole family moved to Hong Kong.

The parents' backgrounds gave their children a sense of Chinese identity stronger than that of the average person in Hong Kong. Nevertheless, their father exhorted his several children from an early age: when you grow up, you must emigrate; run away before the Communists come.

Just as he had instructed, the eldest daughter married and moved abroad in 1959. One after another, the whole family followed suit, moving abroad and setting down roots elsewhere.

After her brother Raymond Chan moved to Canada, he helped her apply to immigrate several times. In order to increase her chances, he even invested together with her husband in a restaurant. Finally, in 1986 her family of four all successfully applied for immigration.

Before she left, she nonetheless felt some hesitation in her heart. Having started requesting permission to immigrate ten years before and having gone through so many twists and turns, Chan, who is a Christian, could not help questioning whether this was really the road she should be taking. Further-more, her elderly father-in-law contracted cancer. How could she bear to leave him behind? But when she thought of her eight-year-old son who was being held back a year in second grade, and her ten-year-old daughter with ten different homework assignments every day, she felt that she had no choice.

On the point of departure, she wrote the poem "For the Children" for her students at Baptist University:

Parting

If one day we meet again

At West Lake to watch the proud moon,

At Xiang River to gaze at the eastern slopes,

Or stand and look out on an unknown shore,

Children!

When will we not need to roam,

In the midst of returning,

Walking back and forth between affirming and denying?

Immigrant contradictions

After they arrived in Canada, husband and wife first went to work in her brother's restaurant, starting as waiter and waitress. Gloria was relatively lucky; within half a year she found work as a church secretary. Her husband's situation was not so good. He served in the restaurant as both cook and waiter, looking after everything both in the kitchen and out front. Before, he had been the dean of students at a middle school in Hong Kong, with a respectable income and position in society.

But oddly enough, her husband was generally satisfied with this kind of a life. He quickly settled down, and within a year he had withdrawn their reserve savings from Hong Kong and had bought a house in Canada, never thinking again of going back.

But Chan's mind was troubled with many contradictions. "I am a person whose Chineseness is very strong. I hope my children can blend in with the local scene and enjoy Halloween, but I also hope they can understand Mid Autumn Festival." She turned this sentiment into the poem "The Clan of Immigrants":

Walking with the Western wind

Buried my head under the cold moon and maple leaves

Your concern is aired on the Western plum trees from morning to night

Seeing the mottled messenger pigeons, the worries of time

They don't understand my name

Just call me Immigrant

Children and children's children

Rolling around happily on the ground

Singing hymns, speaking English, eating Thanksgiving turkey

Thinking how they can dress the best on

Halloween

In Mid Autumn, the lanterns are not put out yet

Indeed, they are not bright enough

"Why don't you tell me stories about ancient China?"

Asked my daughter

It's the busyness of life pressing down under the pillows

No matter which festival's banners are waving

Can they compare to the glories of the dancing lion?

"Grab the lucky greens!"

My son shouted

Come back quickly, I can see your head against the red wall

Wear the green tile on your body

The deep autumn along the Pearl River --

That's where my name is.

Coming to know Hong Kong anew

Then in the fourth year of her new life, on May 21, an earthshaking event took place in mainland China. In a special Western edition of the Hong Kong newspaper Ming Pao, Gloria Chan read that more than a million citizens had gathered in Beijing in order to block soldiers from rushing into Tiananmen Square and suppressing the students who sat in peaceful protest and engaged in a hunger strike in search of democracy. Some even lay on the ground to block the entry of tanks. And some of the students had already written their farewell notes, prepared to die admonishing their country.

Distraught over the events, Chan pondered what she could do to help China's democracy movement, and she determined to quickly publish a collection of poems and donate the proceeds from her book. As it turned out, before the collection of poems could be printed, the June 4 Tiananmen Massacre took place. Several days later, her daughter was watching TV and suddenly exclaimed, "Mama, come here quick! There are one and a half million people demonstrating in Hong Kong."

"One and a half million? Are you sure you heard correctly?" Not believing, Gloria Chan went over to the television and was tremendously moved by what she saw. On the TV screen, from North Point to Central District, Hong Kong was jammed full of demonstrating people.

Hong Kong people--how could that be? The Hongkongers that Chan remembered were busy and noisy. They were "people without a country" who only knew how to make and enjoy money, who had no spiritual commitment.

But in that moment on the television, looking at the streets of Hong Kong more crowded than Christmas Eve, Gloria Chan discovered that she had been wrong. "In the past I hated the utilitarianism of Hong Kong people. But now I realize that the citizens of Hong Kong have a pitiable fate; they are faced with so many dilemmas. Just like me, they are the victims of circumstances beyond their control. Hong Kong is only a colony. They've been told since they were children never to think about their national identity. What choice do they have but to focus on commerce?"

During that period of time, the children often saw their mother and uncle weeping because of the Tiananmen Incident, upset with China. But the children had no way to comprehend that their elders were truly empathetic with the citizens of China.

"The Tiananmen Massacre caused us to examine ourselves. I discovered that I was really selfish. I had a beautiful family, so I felt that my life's responsibilities had been fulfilled. But without a country, how could I have a home? Suddenly, I felt that we were living during an important period of time."

Turning point

Her heart began to burn with passion, and she also had a concrete goal. After Tiananmen, Gloria Chan's brother Raymond Chan decided to get into politics, to work abroad helping to fight for the rights of Chinese people and thus have an impact upon China. After recent elections, he became Canada's first ethnic Chinese cabinet minister. Gloria Chan, on the other hand, determined to return to Hong Kong and take part in the last leg of the colony's journey toward 1997, just as she would keep her father-in-law company during his final days.

"I had already made preparations to become a Canadian citizen, but in the Republican revolution, hadn't Sun Yat-sen been supported by overseas Chinese? Chinese who live abroad can still find a place; there's no need to belittle your own power."

One day you will see on the ground a little dandelion

That is he

Refusing to accept the clutches of a foreign land's loneliness

And ultimately he will fall headfirst in his hometown

When she shared her thoughts with her husband, his emotions were extremely complex. It was, after all, his own father who was ill. And if he were to return to Hong Kong, he could find work as a teacher. But he was already settled down in his new home abroad, and going back was not a move he felt compelled to make. So he let Gloria go back first and put off his own decision until later.

Much to their surprise, the job market in Hong Kong stretched open its arms to welcome them. After Tiananmen, the people of Hong Kong lost all confidence in the Chinese Communists, and the departure of talented individuals increased dramatically.

Chan quickly returned to Baptist University's Educational Development Center in the role of administrative supervisor. Four months later, after they had been living in Canada for a full three years, she returned to Vancouver and reunited with her family. After they had completed naturalization procedures, the whole family decided to return to Hong Kong together.

"After we had been back three months, my father-in-law passed away. Taking a stand as Chinese people, we had no regrets."

Where exactly is my home?

Gloria Chan also asked herself, if I return for only six or seven years, is this right?

"Don't think that way. Don't think too far in advance," a Hong Kong legislative assemblyman said to her. Hong Kong people don't think about what will happen more than two or three years in advance, because no one knows what events will take place. When you feel that you have something to contribute and Hong Kong needs you, if you have the notion to come, then come back. On the other hand, if your family needs you, then it has a direct impact on society.

After hearing him say this, Chan felt more at ease.

But Hong Kong society doesn't necessarily view emigrant returnees the same way.

One year, she paid a visit to her relatives during Chinese New Year, and she heard them say half jokingly, "Now that you've got a Canadian passport, you can come back to earn money, and be a Hong Kong frogman" (hands grabbing money and feet kicking backward--sneaking away)!

"People see you as coming back to scarf up a bunch of cash and then leave again. I can't tell them what kind of an impact Tiananmen has had on me and the sense of mission it has given me. I can only tell myself to work even harder, and show them that I am not taking their money for nothing."

When she returned in 1990, the rental wasn't as expensive as it is today. In 1991 alone rents rose threefold. Fortunately, her relatives had one floor empty to rent to them at a low price. After their stay in Canada, her two children's Chinese level was behind the local students, and they had no choice but to attend the international school. Yearly tuition came to HK$100,000 (about US$13,000). Fortunately, Baptist University provides assistance for these two formidable problems, and they have not had to suffer.

But Hong Kong is still Hong Kong. The demonstration against Tiananmen is long in the past. When crossing the road, people push and shove. If she were to come to a halt one day, she wonders, would she be knocked to the ground by the crowds? Even in the supermarket, people seem to be scrambling for the produce. She often tells herself, if not for her sense of mission, she would have gone long ago.

Last year, her daughter returned to Vancouver to attend university. Gloria Chan accompanied her back. "Now I have one more question: Where exactly is my home? When I returned to Vancouver, I felt right at home. It was beautiful and peaceful. But the time is not right to live there. I still have so many tasks unfinished."

Quickly sow the seeds

She continues to coordinate Baptist University Educational Development Center's study lounge. She subscribes to many publications for the students, such as the United Daily News from Taiwan and People's Daily from the mainland, to allow the students to develop independent thinking from different publications with different stances. Every year she and other colleagues also take charge of the "Sowing the Seeds of Reading" project, encouraging college students to read more extracurricular books. Every year they hold a language camp, encouraging students to speak English or Mandarin. This year the subject on which they invite people to talk is "how to learn about human rights through role-playing games."

"I can come into more contact with young people here and talk to them about issues like freedom, human rights, democracy and national identity before 1997." Gloria worries that if she doesn't quickly sow the seeds, 1997 will come too soon.

Will she leave after 1997? "I don't know. If they take my free space away from me and I am no longer at liberty to speak what I'm thinking, if the government says, 'You can't influence the students' thinking, just let them finish their studies and serve the sovereign state,' then I won't be able to stay."

A heart such as hers is lonesome. Gloria Chan wrote down her own feelings in a poem called "Twelve Provisions for the Rootless."

If your country suffers from a lot of calamities

If you don't have a country

If you have a home but can not return.....

If you're starting to grow old and you still dare to, dream,

You will understand what it is to be rootless.

[Picture Caption]

p.18

With a sense of mission, Gloria Chan returned Hong Kong to take part in the last leg of the colony's journey toward 1997. (photo by Hsueh Chi-kuang)

p.21

If your country suffers from a lot of calamities

If you don't have a country

If you have a home but can not return.....

If you're starting to grow old and you still dare to dream,

You will understand what it is to be rootless.

p.22

Looking out on the prosperous Hong Kong night scene, Gloria Chan wonders whether she will stay. (photo by Hsueh Chi-kuang)