Forever Bright

Specks of dust danced upon a solitary ray of light penetrating the crack in a thick cinder-block wall.  Alone now, Chang Ming Xiang focused on these specks as he pressed his back into the wall and stretched his legs across the dirt floor.  He knew the light’s natural presence was an oversight by his captors.  Somehow Chang Ming managed to feel privileged for this light’s presence marking time; an hourglass of coarse sand drifting downward since the day of his transfer from the internment camp. 

He attempted to shield his mind from those he left behind.  Fetal-like, Chang Ming pressed his knees deep into his chest; rocking his body back and forth against the wall; the subtle pain of hitting the wall comforting him and reassuring him that he was now only physically alone.  Legions of others existed elsewhere in suppressed whispers.  At once consuming the energy he struggled to conserve, he felt these rocking movements necessary to preserve his state of mind and maintain physical stability. 

Chang Ming’s mind struggled to stifle the moments that led to his current circumstance.      His body tarnished and malnourished, suicide would give him a choice in his death’s protocol.  Yet, he knew that his suicide would be a victory for the enemy.  He was unwilling to relinquish the small gains he and the others had fought for so long. 
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 Trees fell in the woods.  No official documents.  No recorded history. 

A people's forest axed by a government warping reality, twisting their moments into seeming imagination.  The voices of only a few brave souls remained; the others scorched by incomprehensible fear.  Memories permanently etched into souls unwilling to forgive or forget.  

Tremors of a distant yesterday quaked through Chang Ming; shocking his heart into an abnormal rhythm.  Flashes of Robbed Expectations.  Doctors.  Authorities.  Strangers.  

Crimson Red Shots of His Wife.  Laid in a Hospital Bed.  Naked.  

   Sheets Stained.  Once White.  Surgical Instruments.  Bright Lights.  No Windows.  

                    Her Screams Silenced.      Chang Ming Motionless.  

          Anger Surfaced.       Rage Oppressed.         No Recourse.

The Incessant Crying now only heard by Chang Ming and others like him.

Perspiration trickling down the nape of his neck, his heart raced seemingly breaking out of his chest.  He could not reach her now.  The prison walls imploded; efforts to catch his breath seemed futile.  

The back of his head bleeding from crashing into the wall, he tried to navigate his way back to the present moment.  Tightly he clenched his wrist; burrowing his fingernails deep into his own flesh. He spoke the words “It’s Time” out loud then suddenly remembered his whereabouts.  

Paranoia set in as he heard voices and footsteps outside of his cell. 

He inhaled deeply, choking, as if recovering from drowning.  Chang Ming searched for a melody attempting to temporarily divert from the living nightmare occupying his daily existence.  

Quietly within his mind, he sang the poem “It’s Time” by Zhu Yufu,¹ rocking himself to sleep; wishful that, in sleep, he may find peace until tomorrow's dawn.

              It’s Time

                  by Zhu Yufu

It’s time, people of China! It’s time. The Square belongs to everyone. With your own two feet It's time to head to the Square and make your choice.It’s time, people of China! It’s time. A song belongs to everyone. From your own throat It’s time to voice the song in your heart.It’s time, people of China! It’s time. China belongs to everyone. Of your own will It’s time to choose what China shall be.

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His song remained in his heart.  Chang Ming had never traveled to Tiananmen Square, Beijing.  Instead, he awakened this day to the guards bashing batons against cell doors; their voices exploding into the ears of prisoner walls.  His vision fogged, blood rushing to his head, Chang Ming rose and tried to stand at the guard’s attention.  Overcome by dizziness, he sturdied himself against the wall.  He slowly came off the wall , standing upright, smelling the stench of steamed cabbage as the guard rationed this and a cup of water for his daily breakfast.   

The blood had dried on the back of his head.  Chang Ming feared a concussion.  He agonized over the irony in asking the guards for medical attention; that something he desperately needed could incite the guards to further punish him.  He chose to conceal the injury using a portion of his breakfast water to clean the wound.  He would not take the risk of seeking their help unless absolutely necessary. 

Chang Ming pondered how could the karma of such inhumanity be?

The scent of lotus flowers, bought by his father Li Ping for his mother Lien Hua, filled the air as Chang Ming remembered his childhood.  He was the first and only son of Li Ping and Lien Hua Wu.  Most of Chang Ming’s life was spent in the company of his grandparents who oversaw his daily care and provided moral guidance. 

Both of his parents worked long hours and their relationship with Chang Ming was one of expectation.  His father’s presence was made known mostly when Chang Ming did not meet an expectation. 

Despite high marks in school, Chang Ming was somewhat aloof and felt apart from his fellow students.  He preferred being alone and often overlooked the proper payment of respect to his teachers and elders.  Once he forgot to offer a seat to an old man on a crowded train.  Upon arriving home, his father shamed him and lashed him into submission over this offense.  His mother stood by silently as it would not be proper for her to intervene in her husband’s affairs.

Chang Ming did remember an instance when his father was proud of his accomplishment.  Chang Ming’s father paraded him around the local market announcing, to anyone who would listen, that his son scored in the upper five percent on the Chinese National Higher Education Examination.  Such a score would guarantee Chang Ming entrance into one of the top universities in the nation.  

Chang Ming’s mother had higher goals for him.  She wanted him to attend an American university.  Over the years, she and his father had saved most of their earnings toward this goal.  Li Ping and Lien Hua would be honored for their son to attend a prestigious university.  This would signal their success as parents to the rest of the community.  Chang Ming’s imprisonment was not a part of their future plans for him.

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“Held in custody” was Chang Ming’s official status as the sole occupant of cell number 719.  Solitary confinement seemed a harsh punishment.  Perhaps Chang Ming was separated due to the authorities fearing his potential influence on the other prisoners.  This was at once an absurd thought to the usually reserved Chang Ming; that he could influence others or incite a riot was a possibility created by circumstance; not his natural being. 

As yet, Chang Ming had not been granted contact with his family or access to an attorney.  He had heard rumors of prisoners being “held in custody” for over one year before receiving a trial.  He worried endlessly about his family, but he knew better than to approach the guards; fearing another beating may cost him his life.  He bided his time awaiting a pronouncement that would allow him contact with his family; to call or write an attorney.

Days passed without such a pronouncement.  Chang Ming thought back to his time as a prelaw student at the University of Notre Dame in the United States.  After high school, he reluctantly departed China to fulfill his mother’s vision; a vision he did not share.  Chang Ming wanted to be normal.  He wanted to attend university in China with his friends particularly Mei Ling; a beautiful classmate who just realized Chang Ming existed as they graduated high school together.

Like many economically disadvantaged students in China, education was the great equalizer for Mei Ling.  Her path and Chang Ming’s would never have crossed if not for attending the same high school.  Mei Ling’s delicate presence filled Chang Ming’s being from the moment he glimpsed her profile during Freshman year.  She was assigned seating in the next row, one desk in front of him.  Daily, Chang Ming would hurry to be the first to arrive in class.  Sitting at his desk, waiting for her to walk down the aisle toward him, he would then stare at the blackboard, pretending to copy meaningless words, secretly hoping to catch Mei Ling’s eye. 

Mei Ling never spoke to Cheng Ming that year or in the following years until just before New Year’s break during Senior year.  Chang Ming and his friend, Zemin, were walking out of the school, when Mei Ling came up from behind, now walking between them.  “What are you doing for Chinese New Year?” she asked.  Typical discussion of family activities and traditions followed until Mei Ling interjected with another question: “Would you both like to attend the firework festivities with me?”  Chang Ming’s mind froze, before he could stutter a response, Zemin accepted Mei Ling’s invitation and they started discussing plans without his input. 

The summer after high school, Mei Ling, Chang Ming and Zemin were inseparable.  They welcomed the luxury of this break after years of nine hour school days as well as weekend music and language lessons.  Chang Ming sensed that Mei Ling was more interested in Zemin.  He knew that her parents would not allow her to be alone with just Zemin.  So he accepted this threesome arrangement; satisfied to be in her presence for the time being.     

Chang Ming lingered as summer drifted to a close; hanging on to each moment.  His grandmother tried to awaken him, but sleep was a stronger calling in his current depressed state.  His time in China was ending and he did not want to move despite the many things that needed done before his departure for America.  His grandfather forced him out of bed to make sure his student visa and travel documents were in order.  Chang Ming went through the motions, sleepily reviewing the documents, secretly hoping there was an error to delay the inevitable.

Zemin had already said his farewells, one week prior, as he boarded a northbound train.   Chang Ming and Zemin had known each other since age seven when Zemin’s family moved into the district and they were both placed in the same school.  Zemin’s mother only wanted for her son to take a traditional path remaining in China to attend a top university.  Like Chang Ming, Zemin scored in the top percentile on the Chinese National Higher Education Exam.  Such an achievement secured Zemin a place at Renmin People’s University of Beijing; one of the nation’s top three universities.  Chang Ming felt only animosity when he should have felt proud of his friend.  He too could have attended this university.  The honor would be Zemin’s; never Chang Ming’s own accomplishment; never his own mother’s goal for him. 

As Zemin’s train departed, Mei Ling grasped Chang Ming’s hand; her tears streaming. Together, they walked toward the bus station.  Boarding an overcrowded bus, she sat on his lap out of necessity and buried her face in Chang Ming’s shoulder.  Still crying, Mei Ling fell asleep; Cheng Ming now daydreaming of their possibilities together, with only one another: their first kiss; long embraces; visions of the children they would someday make together.  Reality awakened them as, forty minutes later, the bus arrived in Mei Ling’s district.  Before departing, Mei Ling sweetly kissed Chang Ming on the cheek, tapping him gently on the nose, while giggling and telling him she would meet him at the café in the morning.          

Chang Ming eagerly awakened the next morning, dressing in his best casual clothes, borrowing his father’s after shave, preparing to look and smell his best for Mei Ling.  He could not summon an appetite to eat the usual breakfast his grandmother prepared for him.  He shot out the door without explanation. His grandparents shouted after him, miffed by his behavior.  He didn’t have time to pay proper respects this morning and would remedy things with his grandparents later.  Today was his day to finally be alone with Mei Ling and nothing would delay him from meeting with her.       

He boarded the bus to the café, now sitting alone, remembering the feeling of Mei Ling on his lap yesterday.  Against his will, time slowed for Chang Ming as he thought of what he would say to Mei Ling now that he finally would be alone with her.     The bus weaved through an endless stream of stop lights and traffic finally arriving at the cafe.  The cafe was in the central part of the city and a line of people waited on the sidewalk outside.  He proceeded to the end of the line, anxious to see Mei Ling at any moment.

As the line slowly inched forward, he peered inside each window, hoping to see Mei Ling already situated at a table.  Her bus should have arrived 10 minutes earlier than his.  Chang Ming reasoned: perhaps, her bus was delayed in traffic or there was an accident as was common in a city this populous. 

Chang Ming waited for over one hour until the waitress finally suggested that he either order something more or finish by paying his bill.  His eyes moistened as if a tear could form at any moment, but he would not disgrace himself by crying in public.  He quickly paid the bill and exited.     Mei Ling did not arrive for reasons he could only surmise: maybe she forgot about their date or her parents forbid her from seeing Chang Ming alone.   It was easier for him to believe the latter circumstance. 

His heart receding, he let the bus home pass him by.  Chang Ming slowly walked instead, his eyes drawn downward, counting the sidewalk cracks just as he did when he was a small boy.   

Before Chang Ming could fully push his house door open, his Grandfather angrily walked toward him, nearly chest to chest, forcing Chang Ming to take a step back, losing his balance, knocking him down.  This was not his Grandfather’s intention, but once Chang Ming was on the ground, his Grandfather straddled him, pinning his arms, overcome by rage.  Now telling Chang Ming to “keep his eyes open,” he did not dare disobey.  Grandfather loudly summoned mucous from the depths of his throat, and within close range, forcefully spit directly in Chang Ming’s eyes.  “Your Grandmother went through great efforts to make your breakfast this morning and to neatly prepare your clothes.  You treated her as garbage and now I treat you the same.”  Speaking only these words, Chang Ming’s Grandfather quickly got up, returning inside the house. 

Chang Ming’s first instinct was to stay outside, remaining still on the ground, but he knew his Grandfather would not accept this behavior so he too went inside.  His Grandmother greeted him with the silence of her stern expressionless steer; a silence designed to amplify Chang Ming’s own humiliation triggering a delicate dance to restore his honor.  Less than one week remained before his departure to America and he did not want to leave on bad terms with his family.

  

Chang Ming was brought into the present moment as two prison guards stood at his cell door.  The courtesy of formal introductions was bypassed as one guard collected Chang Ming’s breakfast tray, while the other guard shouted orders at Chang Ming.  Chang Ming’s mind was hazy and he only understood that they were going somewhere.  He was not able to discern where they were going. 

In prison, he had no clock, but from the light peering into his cell he surmised that breakfast occurred each day shortly after dawn & then the guards arrived maybe a half hour later.  In the days to come, Chang Ming would learn to take comfort in the consistency of this routine. 

Life before prison, his work schedule was the only semblance of routine in Chang Ming’s life.  He stayed up late nightly and awoke at varying times each morning somehow always arriving at work on time.  Chang Ming preferred the quietness of the night when most people were resting and the streets were finally silent.  His disposition was inclined to all things nocturnal and his wife constantly chided him about the bad spirits roaming during the night.  He would not fear supernatural spirits at the cost of the solace he found in twilight.  

He instead feared the unknown of the day ahead of him as the prison guards escorted him  through a long corridor of identical cells; a small window on each white door.  They arrived at an opening where several more guards were gathered.  Chang Ming was transferred into their custody as his escorts returned down the corridor.  A guard stepped forward and threw Chang Ming to the ground, rolling him on to his stomach, the guard jarring a heel into Chang Ming’s back.  This action was unnecessary.  Chang Ming was not trying to move.  He had no intention of escape especially if such an action would provoke more punishment from the guards. 

There was no rhyme or reason as to why or when the guards would act out of brutality toward Chang Ming.  He had already told them that he would not release the names of the others even under the harshest circumstances. 

In truth, he only knew the names of six others; the one above plus five who were directly under him in the movement’s communication pyramid.  Sure he had seen hundreds of others at gatherings, but these people were anonymous faces who themselves shared in a common experience or were compelled to act because someone they loved was impacted.

Chang Ming grimaced in pain as the guard further twisted Chang Ming’s arm behind his back and pushed his face into the ground.  Remembering his own wife bound to a surgical table, Chang Ming conjured an immunity to pain as strong as the conviction in his heart.  He must take this punishment for his wife and the other women in his village living under the microscope of forced abortions, pelvic exams and continuous government monitoring of their menstrual cycles.  His village was not alone in their anguish.  Millions of women throughout China suffered the same inspection and worse as the government continued to rape their dignity both physically and emotionally in carrying out China’s Family Planning Policy. 

This policy dictates that most families are allowed only one child by law and violators will be fined ⁶.  Rich families affording the penalty could keep their children.  Such is not the case for the less fortunate families.  In practice, these violators are not only fined, but are forced to have abortions by local officials if they cannot afford to pay the fine.  If the child has already been born, many are forced to abandon their child to the care of an orphanage or relative. 

Families destroyed in the wake of this policy united to seek their inalienable rights as human beings.  Chang Ming was moved to act.  Prison was a small sacrifice. Aberrations of babies crying forever haunted all of their souls.  He would protect the others’ names at any cost. 

To Be Continued...

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Footnotes for  nerds at heart and otherwise curious readers:

¹ Written in 2011, Zhu Yufu was sentenced to seven years in prison by the Chinese government for speaking his heart in the 12 lines contained within the poem, "It's Time."  He is presently serving this prison term; accused of subversion of state authority.  

² Chinese prisoners commonly receive cabbage and water for a daily meal.  On a diet primarily consisting of cabbage and water, lawyer Guo Zhisheng lost 50 pounds of his body weight while imprisoned seven years for subversion.  Guo was jailed for his role in advocating Christianity and the Falon Gong movement in China.  He was released in August 2014 and claims to claims to have been denied medical care, experienced severe torture, malnourishment, physical and psychological abuse while imprisoned

³Founding father of the People’s Republic of China (PRC), Mao Zedong once said “women hold up half the sky.”  Mao recognized the importance of woman in a productive work force.  Women constituted 46% of the Chinese workforce as of November 2011 [source: The Economist]; a higher percentage than many Western nations.

⁴ Due to economic success and career advancement, working women in China are independent and oriented toward achievement of goals.  However, tradition holds a high place in the lives of many Chinese women. 

From an early age, many girls are taught the three submissions and four virtues (三从四德 San Cong Si De).  In Confucianism, a prevalent belief system, wives were expected to follow a hierarchy of respect and submission as follows:

未嫁从父: obey her father as a daughter

既嫁从夫 : obey her husband as a wife

夫死从子: obey her sons in widowhood

妇德: morality

妇言: proper speech

妇容: modest manner

妇功: diligent work

⁵ The majority of Chinese high school seniors must sit for the National Higher Education Entrance Exam (the Gaokao 高考).  Scores from this exam are a prerequisite for determining the national university these students will attend.  A poor score may bring shame on the family name and may cause the student to study a vocational career; something looked down on by many parents in China.
6 China’s Family Planning Policy (aka the One Child Policy) was implemented in 1979 and continues in the present day.  Chinese Health Ministry statistics indicate 336 million abortions and 222 million abortions have transpired in China since 1971 (New York Times, May 21, 2013).