Modern Chinese didn't invent emigration. Their forefathers started leaving in the late Ching dynasty.
It's just that the arboreal metaphor keeps changing. The Chinese coolies of a century ago "shed leaves abroad and then returned to their roots." The Chinese who went overseas 30 years ago, largely to study, began "falling to the ground and growing new roots." And now emigrants from Hong Kong and Taiwan--leaving for political concerns,for their children's education and for a better living environment--have adopted a strategy of "separating the roots from the branches." The roots (the fathers) stay in the homeland to soak up financial nourishment from the vibrant Southeast Asian economy. The branches (the mothers and children) live abroad, obtaining foreign citizenship or enjoying the educational resources of advanced Western nations.
The Chinese have been busy coining phrases to describe these new emigrants: "better halves in America," "aerialists," "the half-emigrated." While their stories of flying back from a "lonely heaven" abroad to a "happy hell" in their homeland may lack the blood, sweat and tears experienced by the old coolie emigrants, their tales nonetheless speak to the bitterness and frustrations of this generation of Chinese.
This issue's cover story examines this transnational phenomenon. The reports from Hong Kong focus on Hong Kongers who leave because they are scared about the future of the city after it reverts to Chinese rule in 1997, and who then return for various reasons. And it looks at their impact on Hong Kong society. The articles on Taiwan, on the other hand, describe the feelings of these emigrants on returning, and their confusion about where their roots lie and where their branches extend.
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