The List of Things Bought: Volume I

By Ken Varnold

From the time six-year-old Hanh Xiao Lin was stolen from her family in Shanghai, China in 1926, to her death in the United States in 2001, her life, set against the epic changes in Asia and the world in the 20th Century, was anything but ordinary. Armed with only her will power and given a few turns of fate, this extraordinary woman survived to see her children grow and prosper. This is the first of two volumes that chronicles her life. Base on real events.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 26, 2012
• ISBN: 9781477123331

Ken Varnold

Ken is a writer living in the twin cities of Minneapolis/Saint Paul, Minnesota. A native of Galesburg, Illinois, he has lived in Minnesota since 1966. He attended the University of Minnesota, obtaining a BA in Child Development. After a varied career ranging from social services, law enforcement, investigator, actor, playwright, and poet, he proudly adds novelist to the list. Urumqi is his latest work. You can find more at www.kenvarnold.net.

Book preview

The List of

Things Bought

Volume I

Ken Varnold

Copyright © 2012 by Ken Varnold.

Produced by notfar enough productions, llc

Cover art by D. Downing

Library of Congress Control Number:           2012910007

ISBN:                 Hardcover                     978-1-4771-2332-4

ISBN:                 Softcover                      978-1-4771-2331-7

ISBN:                 Ebook                          978-1-4771-2333-1

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

The List of Things Bought is a fictionalized biography based on the life of Hanh Xiao Lin as represented by her family. Apart from actual historical figures, places and events mentioned in the text, all other characters, places and events are products of the author’s imagination.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

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109682

Contents

PROLOGUE

PART I

Chapter One               The Childhood of Hanh Xiao Lin

Chapter Two               Chang

Chapter Three             Dancers

Chapter Four               Vietnam

Chapter Five               Shanghai

Chapter Six                 Vietnam

Chapter Seven             Shanghai

Chapter Eight              Life and death

Chapter Nine              The Port of Shanghai

Chapter Ten                Hai Phong, Viet Nam

PART II

Chapter Eleven            One Evening at the Paris

Chapter Twelve            Hai Phong

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen          September, 1940

Chapter Fifteen             Summer 1941

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen         November 1945

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen            A refugee camp (the human animal)

Part III

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-one

Chapter Twenty-two                  November 1949

Chapter Twenty-three

Chapter Twenty-four                  Da Nang

Chapter Twenty-five

Chapter Twenty-six                  September 1956

Chapter Twenty-seven

Chapter Twenty-eight

Chapter Twenty-nine

Chapter Thirty

NOTES AND ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

For Isla

It is said we shed a tear for each day of life we have on this earth. Perhaps, but some will shed many more.

PROLOGUE

A village near Shanghai, China

1926

Five men sit staring at one another around a table filled with empty tea cups. The smoke of their cigarettes rises and spreads over their heads. Shun Hanh, the village mayor, speaks.

So what, my countrymen, do we do with this? We have talked all afternoon. Can we not agree?

We can agree our time is short, said one.

The tide shifts to Mao! Do not be fools! said another.

He will lead us to chaos! Anarchy! They will kill even us! said another.

A third man speaks. Do you think they believe us to be important? We run a village. What could be more harmless?

Our country is coming apart, said the elderly fourth man. The triad has already raised my protection fee. Our people fight each other on the street without shame. Now a fool wants power and tells the ignorant he will give them what they want.

Mao will keep us in power if we listen!

Mao will kill us!

After several minutes of such talk, Shun Hanh spoke again.

Our lives are about to change my friends. Whether Chiang prevails or Mao prevails, it will be terrible. The triad criminals are parasites slowly taking our life blood. But the saddest thing to me is how divided we have become. We have been friends all our lives, and yet it is as if I only just now know you. In the coming months…

Shun Hanh is interrupted in mid-sentence by a sharp, urgent rap on the door. It opens to a man, his wife’s housekeeper. The man bows to Shun Hanh but there is little grace to it.

Your honor, I am sorry to interrupt! You must come! Your wife needs you! Your daughter is missing!

Shun Hanh steps outside the door and the men hear low but urgent voices. A shout of disbelief comes from Shun Hanh. The men look at each other around the table. They suddenly hear the sound of running feet and out the window they see Shun Hanh in full stride toward his home.

PART I

Chapter One

The Childhood of Hanh Xiao Lin

Somewhere in China

1929

Hanh Xiao Lin did not know it but she turned eight years old two weeks ago, her birthday a forgotten date on a forgotten calendar. She also could not know that her family, fearing she was dead, carried the hope that one day she would be returned to them. All Hanh could do now was live each day hoping it would not be the last. She lay awake with her eyes closed while the images of her family passed through her mind. She could still see them but details were disappearing from their faces. The sound of their voices was fading and the memories were like the dream of another person’s life. Every morning Hanh spoke to her mother, hoping her thoughts would reach out and touch her mother’s mind. She wanted so much for them to come for her.

This small cage was the only home she could rely on now. A thin blanket, old when she got it, is now threadbare. It serves as her mattress and her towel when she has the luxury of enough water to bathe. The wood slats of the makeshift floor pinch her skin if she turns on it. The two-year old urine stains had long since evaporated, leaving parts of it discolored and misshapen. She had been left for days in the cage when she was first taken two years ago and her only recourse then was to try to pee in one corner of it. She could only prevent the puddle from spreading so much. She was smaller then and fit into the cage much easier. But now she had grown and her legs were curled just so she could find room to sleep. At least now she was allowed to sit out on the dirt floor when she ate and she could relieve herself outdoors as she chose.

There seemed to be no worry from Master that she would run away. She had lost any idea where her family was or how to get to them. And Master would know how find her anyway. Perhaps then he would kill her family as he had promised. To spare them she stayed put. She tended to the babies as she was told. At times, squatting in the dirt like a little animal, she could see the city across the river. The city choked with cars, buses, bicycles, and people; a never ending stream of people. She hated going there but Master would take them for days at a time. They would set up a small stage where Master would stand and beckon the passers-by to pay a few pennies to view deformed children and make Hanh dance.

Hanh opened her eyes. Light under the door told her the sun was coming up. The tent flap opened. She closed her eyes quickly but she heard the feet of the mistress shuffle to her cage. Through eyes opened only slightly she could see the slippers. The lock was opened and then the door.

Get up brat!

Hanh opened her eyes immediately. When the mistress was in this mood anything could happen and she feared another beating. Without so much as rubbing her eyes she pulled herself up to a sitting position.

Get busy brat, I’ll be back soon! Or maybe I’ll send the master in! Would you like that? Move!

Mistress left the cage door open, turned and walked out leaving behind a pot of rice soup. The mistress must have had a bad night again. After one such night Hanh remembered seeing blood on the front of mistresses’ dress and she could not walk easily. She had heard the master growling at mistress and commanding her and later blood on her dress. Mistress was very mean that morning. Hanh rubbed her eyes then pulled herself from her cage. When mistress had a bad night all were at risk. Hanh had already seen too many terrible things.

She thought back to the sunlit morning two years ago, her sister and her at home on a sunny afternoon. It seemed so long ago. A tear started to burn her eye but Hanh gritted her teeth. She pinched herself until pain set in. She could not think these things. She could not allow this memory into her head. Hanh slapped herself across the face. Closing her eyes she focused on what she had to get done before mistress came back, or worse, the master himself.

After relieving herself she went to the first urn. There were five standing along one wall. Already she could hear the whimpering. She went to the first one and said Good morning little one and laid it gently on the floor. There she helped the small child inside crawl out slowly, gently laying the tiny girl on the floor. Hanh had become almost immune to the smell of infant urine and feces. She lay the small child down. Its legs were already beginning to change shape and the little girl’s arms were beginning to bow and turn crab-like, conforming to the sides of the urn. Hanh took the jar outside to the small pond and rinsed it out. When she was done she carried it back inside. She pulled the child up and as best she could, carried out to rinse her little body in the water. Back inside, she poured small sips of rice soup into the little mouth. The child drank greedily.

Each child was taken out in turn, washed, fed and returned to the urns. Each one took Hanh at least fifteen minutes to complete and put back in place. In a year or two each child would be ready for the show, if they lived that long of course. Many infants did not survive the ordeal of growing in the urns but those who did could bring tourist prices from the foreigners who would pay to see the deformed freaks of nature that would never have been freaks if they had not been taken by Master for his circus. After several years in the urns, limbs, torsos and sometimes even the heads would deform, making them Natures Freaks. Did the foreign tourists really believe they had been born that way? Those who did not survive were thrown in the river. Hanh would be given the dirty urn to clean and somehow another child would show up as if born into it from another world. She then had a new cycle of cleaning and feeding to do.

Hanh’s other job was to dance for the tourists, dressed in her silk dresses and veils. She would sometimes look at faces in the crowd. She could see the looks on their faces, some of the men leering and the women smiling. When she stopped at the end of the music to bow, they would applaud and whistle and throw money on the stage, only to be picked up after the curtain closed by Mistress. Hanh knew somehow that they enjoyed watching her dance. Once she even caught Master staring at her. Profits had doubled and she knew this was because of her. But she also knew Mistress was jealous of Master’s interest.

Were these foreign adults so stupid they could not see? Children taken, intentionally deformed, cruelly mistreated; did they not know or care? Hanh could not answer these questions and really, what did it matter. There would be no rescue for her or the other children anyway. Hanh only knew she must not weaken and must not falter. All she had learned so far was that one day led to the next.

A cry from the urn in front of her brought her back. She was thinking too much. She must keep busy. This little one was her favorite, a little girl whose eyes made Hanh think of the sister she had not seen for so long. Hanh hated to make her wait but she always took extra time with this child. After laying the tiny girl on the floor she took the urn outside to rinse it and then returned for her. Hanh picked up the child carefully and took her outside where Master or Mistress would not hear. Master hated listening to the children crying and if Hanh could not quiet her Master might throw her in the river alive.

After washing the girl Hanh sat down and rocked her gently in her arms. She kissed the little girl on the forehead. The baby whimpered.

Hush little one. Your life is in danger always. You must not do this, hush…

She whispered and rocked the child until the little girl only whimpered. Hanh picked her up, carried her inside and fed her some rice. The little teeth worked and thankfully the child swallowed it without choking. Hanh gave her some water and the girl drank eagerly. Her big eyes looked up at Hanh and she smiled. Hanh kissed her again on her forehead, then as gently as she could, slid the girl back into the urn, her tiny prison. She whispered to the little one, I will call you Starlight. Hanh turned away, quickly wiped an errant tear, ate the last of the rice and sat waiting for Mistress to return.

That Evening

Hanh was exhausted. The long, hot day had come to an end. She finished folding and storing her costume. The sun had disappeared several hours ago but she again, by the light of a candle, had to clean and feed the children of the urns. She could hear already the whimpering of the children, hungry and dirty again from being in the urn all day. The only one that wasn’t was Starlight. She had been allowed out for the audiences. So Hanh was able to give her extra food so she wouldn’t cry in front of them. That and the small bit of opium Master gave the children on display kept her calm and quiet. Nothing upset an audience like a deformed baby that also cried like the devil.

She stopped, halted by whimpering, but not just whimpering. A cough. A cough! Hanh hurried to the urns. With the candle lit she looked down into each one and looked for eyes that looked back at her. But it was unnecessary. When she was closer she knew immediately. One of the others, not Starlight. Hanh put the candle down and pulled out the urn with the coughing baby. Gently she rolled the small infant out onto the mat. Hanh could see quickly that all was not well. The small child lay limp and unconscious on the mat, its tiny arms and legs already curving to form the shape of the urn. Its small eyes were just slits through which Hanh could only see small slivers of white. She knew what she must do.

Hanh got up and went to Mistresses small tent. She called out.

What! Speak child! came the reply from inside.

One is sick Mistress.

The flap was pulled back suddenly. Hanh looked up into the eyes of the Mistress who just looked down at her. In the candle light Mistress looked angry for being bothered but she abruptly walked over to the small tent where the children were kept. When Hanh entered after her Mistress just stood looking down at the small child dying before her eyes. Hanh waited, hoping Mistress would do something.

Mistress said nothing but turned away.

You know what to do, she muttered to Hanh without further question.

Hanh stood looking at the baby again. It no longer coughed; its breathing was labored and infrequent. Hanh sat down on the edge of the mat at looked at the tiny girl. She could not tell how long she sat but finally the baby did not move again. It did not breathe again. It seemed at peace finally, all it would have in its very short life.

Hanh fetched an old rag, wrapped the tiny baby in it, picked it up and walked outside. She walked toward the river. Once there Hanh walked a few steps into the water where she bent down as close as she dared without making her own clothing wet. She lowered the dead infant into the cool water and after a moment, pushed it out to where the current would catch it.

Sleep well little one, sleep well. Hanh watched the small bundle until it floated away in the darkness of the water and the night.

Later that night

Hanh awoke to the sound of the donkeys braying. No light came through the tent walls, sun was not up yet. So why the noise? They were not supposed to move for days. The front of the tent was pushed open suddenly and the stern voice of Mistress assaulted her.

Wake up! Get the children ready! We leave by noon!

Mistress unlocked her cage and exited. Hanh crawled out. She went outside to pee in the darkness. Overhead the stars were out. Night was her favorite time. She looked to the stars. She wondered what was out there. Most of all she wondered about that last sunny day. She should have gone inside sooner. Mother had called her and her sister but play was so important. She looked down at the earth in the dim light. This could be the earth beneath her own home. But it was not. It is the earth of a place she does not know. If she had only gone back into the house…

She cursed herself for thinking of this. She must keep these thoughts out of her head. She finished peeing and reached for a nearby leaf to wipe herself. She stood. She looked again at the sky full of stars. That is the path she must take. In her child’s eye, she knew she could not focus on the earth; her eyes must always look up. Looking down would kill her. She went back inside the tent to prepare the children.

The sun slowly pushed its way to the sky, but was blurred by a morning fog. The day would be hot and humid. Hanh could only hope for enough water for herself and the children. She held the donkey as it pulled a cart carrying the urns of children and a few other supplies. In front and behind her were the others, all walking and leading a donkey and a cart. And at the front she could see the head of Master. Only he rode a donkey, seemingly unaware of the train of people and carts behind him. But sometimes he would turn to look and his sinister eyes would scan the train to be sure all was well. It seemed each time he would look at Hanh before turning back to face the road before him. She wondered if he could see through to her very heart.

The village of Suzhou fell away behind this little train of performers. Hanh looked to the sun and the sky. She looked back at the cart. Woven fronds of bamboo covered the tops of the urns to keep the damp air and the sun off of the children. They were still in place. Beside her, the donkey walked; its eyes did not betray what it thought, if anything. She held the rope under its chin while the donkey walked. She watched its face. It did not look at her. In fact, it seemed it would not look at her. She discovered something in that moment. She realized the donkey was wiser than her. Donkey did what it should do without question, without expectation, and without thought of the next day. And yet every day it stood ready to do whatever was asked of it. And each day it endured to see the next. Hanh realized she must become more like the donkey. Yes, it was wiser than she. But the question that nagged her was how she could rise to the level of wisdom of the donkey.

She set about to practice. Hanh relaxed her eyes and the muscles of her face. She began to stare straight ahead and think only of the cart in front and the sky above. But Hanh still refuses to look down the way Donkey does. She could not bring herself to look humble, an art so well developed by Donkey. It made her fear she would never be as clever as he. She would continue her practice though, until she became masterful as Donkey.

The day passed. A brief rain had fallen but the sun had reappeared. Soon it would be setting. The group had begun setting up a camp site. The women put up tents, the few men tying the animals together after letting them drink from the small pond they had found. Hanh was busy again with the children. She took each child out of their urn. She washed it gently in the water and took each urn and rinsed it out. The urns had open bottoms but were still fouled by the children. And as usual Hanh saved Starlight for last. She apologized for keeping her waiting. It seemed that Starlight did not protest. Hanh hoped Starlight understood the purpose of her wait when she could hear the others being cared for first. After some fresh water, rice and few crushed beans for each child, night had settled over them. The last of the fires were going out and everyone retreated to their tents. Hanh sat looking at the stars. She was disturbed only by the footsteps of Mistress.

It is time, was all she said.

Hanh walked into the small tent and climbed inside her small cage where Mistress locked it. She sat staring, recalling the empty eyes of Donkey. She did what she could to take all thought off of her face. Mistress’s