From Orphan to Physician: The Winding Path

By Chun-Wai Chan

In this book, Dr. Chan describes how, during the civil war that occurred in China after World War II, his family escaped to Hong Kong, how they survived in utter poverty, and how he went from being an orphan to graduating from Harvard Medical School and becoming a cardiologist. The writing is fluent, easy to read and understand. The sequence of eve

• Language: English
• Publisher: Healthy Life Press, LLC
• Release date: Dec 10, 2013
• ISBN: 9781939267191

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

IT ALL BEGAN IN HONG KONG (1951–1959)

BORN IN A REFUGEE FAMILY

My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place, when I was woven together in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be (Psalm 139:15-16).

Ibelieve that God is the Creator of the universe and all that is in it. He created heaven and earth. Of course, He also created me. Not only so, He predestined me to become His vessel for His purpose. Nevertheless, for the longest time I could not fathom why I was born into a poor family such as mine.

Shortly after World War II, civil war broke out in China. The Nationalist and Communist soldiers fought fiercely to gain control of the country. In 1949, the Nationalist Army was defeated and retreated to Taiwan. The People’s Liberation Army took over the control of mainland China. Many landlords, wealthy business owners, and the educated fled to Hong Kong for fear of persecution by the Communists. As a result, Hong Kong was swamped with floods of refugees from China in the 1950s.

My father’s family owned acres and acres of land along the shore of Haikou in Hainan Island. They had a thriving business collecting sea salt for processing into table salt, which was then a valuable commodity in inland China. However, my father was in the military of the nationalist government. Without a doubt, he would be a prime target for persecution by the Communists.

Therefore, my parents, along with my older brother and sister, reluctantly left Hainan Island for Guangzhou in October 1950. As they arrived at the train station, they found that the station was overcrowded with people who were also trying to leave China. When they elbowed their way to the ticket counter, they discovered that all the tickets for the train to Hong Kong were completely sold out. They were panic-stricken and did not know what to do next. Luckily, through some connections, they were able to obtain four tickets through the black market and took the last train from Guangzhou to Hong Kong. They were hoping that when the dust settled and the situation became more stable, they could return home. They never thought that their dream of returning to the homeland would fade so quickly.

Life in Hong Kong at that time was a lot harder than they had expected it to be. The tremendous influx of refugees overwhelmed Hong Kong’s social system. Jobs were scarce. Housing was in short supply. Most of the refugees, including my parents, had left all their possessions in China and did not know anyone in Hong Kong. My parents had only enough money to rent a small room in a wooden shed in the shanty town of Kowloon Zai.

Kowloon Zai in those days was a slum area filled with makeshift wooden huts of varying sizes. The shed my family lived in was a two-storied, U-shaped, wooden frame structure with roof and walls consisting of merely scraps of cardboard and rusty sheets of metal nailed together. Thirty-two refugee families lived in this building. Each family had just one room that measured about six by eight feet. At the end of each hallway of this U-shaped building there was a makeshift kitchen with two wood-burning stoves. Eight families took turns using this cooking facility, which was a constant source of conflict.

There was no bathroom facility, electricity, or running water in the building. Every morning each family carried water from a nearby creek about a hundred feet away. Water was then stored in plastic buckets for use for the rest of the day. But the creek was also used for washing and cleaning. For sanitary reasons, everyone observed the unspoken rule that cleaning of the portable commode had to be done a little farther downstream. Even so, water from the creek was contaminated because the creek flowed very slowly most of the time.

Each family had a small kerosene lamp as the source of lighting at night. Consequently, fire was a constant hazard in this shantytown. Each winter many buildings similar to ours burned to the ground, sometimes leveling the entire area. Therefore, all belongings had to be bundled up at all times so that it would be easy to grab them and run in case of fire.

Seasonal rains and typhoons brought their share of danger and discomfort. As the roof was made out of sheet metal, it was very noisy when it rained, and containers were needed to collect water that leaked through the roof. When typhoons threatened the area every summer, the building had to be evacuated for safety reasons. The owner of the restaurant across the street was nice enough to let us use his facility as shelter whenever typhoons hit the area. Frequently, the cardboard and sheet metal would be ripped by the storm. Everyone had to help scavenge more cardboard and sheet metal discarded by nearby factories to put the roof and walls together again.

My father struggled to find work to feed the family. He did not have an easily marketable skill. Several attempts to start an import/export business venture failed miserably. My mother had been an elementary school teacher in China. Her teaching credentials, however, did not apply in Hong Kong. Therefore, she was unable to find a teaching job. Instead, she did embroidery work at home to supplement the family income.

My family, which consisted of my parents, my older sister, and my brother was at the bottom of the poverty level when I was born. We crowded in the little six-by-eight-foot room, not knowing if we would have enough money to buy food each day. Usually dinner was merely white rice with some salt or soy sauce. When rice was low, they would make it into diluted porridge so that it would go further.

In fact, my parents were so poor that they could not afford to buy milk to feed me. Instead, my mother fed me rice water mixed with a little bit of sugar. After awhile, my whole body was swollen from lack of protein. My mother took me to Kwong Wah Hospital (a government hospital for the poor). After waiting in line all day I was finally seen by the doctor and was diagnosed with kidney failure from severe malnutrition. From that point on, no matter how hard they had to work, my parents always made sure that, by the end of the day, they had money to buy condensed milk for me.

Two years later my younger brother was born, adding to the financial burden of the family. As a result, my parents had to work long hours each day to make ends meet. My father seldom came home before dark. I was usually fast asleep by the time he returned from work. At times I woke up in the middle of the night and would find him still working at the desk. In fact, my best recollection of my father is of the long shadow of his back cast by the flickering light from the kerosene lamp.

ACCEPTANCE BY GOVERNMENT SCHOOL

Although the Lord gives you the bread of adversity and the water of affliction, your teachers will be hidden no more; with your own eyes you will see them (Isaiah 30:20).

There was no compulsory education in Hong Kong in the 1950s. I did not have the luxury of going to school because we were poor. Most of my childhood was spent playing in the dirt and with makeshift toys. I caught ladybugs in the field of a nearby high school, and spiders and cockroaches around the building where we lived. The spiders were the kind that would fight when faced off against each other in a tight compartment. I would build little boxes out of succulent plants for the spiders to live in and for staging fights. The cockroaches were huge, some as big as four inches long. I would tie threads around their bodies and run along with them as they flew.

My favorite time of the day was after supper when all the kids in the neighborhood would show up at the playground of the high school nearby. We usually flew kites, played soccer, jumped ropes, or played hopscotch, almost always well into the evening until it was completely dark outside. Our kites were made of newspaper and bamboo strips glued together using rice paste. Some kids would go so far as to coat their kite lines with ground-up, broken glass, which allowed them to cut another’s line if they should cross.

Watching building construction was by far my favorite pastime. I was fascinated by the heavy machinery that was used to pound steel beams into the ground for foundation support. Equally fascinating was the erection of bamboo scaffolding around the buildings by the skillful workers. The taller the building, the taller the scaffolding became. Some buildings were over ten stories tall, yet the workers climbed up and down and all around the bamboo scaffolding as if they were walking on the ground! Next to my home they were building the refugee resettlement housing funded by the United Nations, and Maryknoll Elementary School, a Catholic school. I actually watched the construction of these two projects from start to finish.

When the school opened, I used to envy the children filing into the school each morning. Every student was dressed in a crisp school uniform. How I wished I could attend school! Each day I would stand for hours outside the school fence watching all that was going on inside. I later found a spot from which I could peek and eavesdrop into the classroom. I tried to take in as much as possible what the teacher was teaching. I would then practice writing on the dirt, since I had no paper or pencil.

Later the Salvation Army opened a library not too far from our neighborhood. I started going to the library every day to read books on my own. Before long, the librarian learned about my family situation, that my parents were too poor to send me to school. Impressed with how eager I was to learn, she was extremely helpful. She guided me in the choice of books I should read and taught me new words whenever she was not busy.

My diligence finally paid off. A new government school was built about two to three miles from my home. Acceptance into the school required an entrance examination since there were too many children for the spaces available. My father took me to the new school for the entrance examination. A few weeks later he came home unusually early with a little package wrapped in beautiful wrapping paper.

This is for you, he said, handing me the package.

What is it? I asked curiously.

Open it and see, he urged.

I carefully unwrapped the package, making sure the shiny wrapping paper was not damaged so that it could be used again. I was overjoyed when I saw that it was a beautiful pencil – the very first pencil I had owned in my life!

He went on to explain, Over three thousand children were competing for a hundred or so first grade places. You scored the third highest! This is your reward for doing so well in the entrance examination.

My mother added, Pretty soon you will be able to go to school. Study hard so that our hope in you is not in vain. One day you will rise above everyone else. I would never forget their affirmation and encouragement.

My mother wanted me to become a doctor. This had little to do with goals of wealth or reputation. She simply wanted to make sure that in case I was ever uprooted and forced to flee to another country, I would have a marketable skill. She believed that medicine was the only profession that would provide protection for me and my family should the need arise.

Indeed, my parents were very proud of me. Even though tuition was only three dollars a month, it was an extra financial burden for them. Nevertheless, they were happy to work harder and longer hours to support my education.

My parents could not afford to buy me a school uniform, so my mother made the uniform herself. The quality and workmanship, understandably, were not as good as those ordered through the school. She also deliberately made my uniform several sizes larger so that it would last longer. It did not bother me. I was just happy to be able to go to school.

I walked to school every day since I had no money to pay for the bus fare. It took about an hour to walk each way. Because of the long journey, I learned to manage my time efficiently early on. While walking, I would review my schoolwork and force myself to recite the lessons. By the time I got to school, I usually would have learned the material by heart.

Unfortunately, the problem with walking such a long distance to school was the unpredictable nature of the weather during rainy seasons. Frequently I would become soaking wet walking to or from school if it rained all of a sudden and I had not brought a raincoat. Once, school had to end early because of a fast-approaching typhoon. I waited for a long time