Multiple Nations into One: A story of the grandfathers of my life

By Marian Liu

"Here's to the Liu family."

Teacups clanged as my grandfather raised his wineglass to his lips. A smile broke on his face, as memories of old times crept forward. The diluted red wine slid down his throat as he prepared to sing his best rendition of the national anthem, neither Chinese nor American, but in French.

To this day, nearly six years after his death, whenever I hear the French national anthem, I break out in tears.

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The door slammed. Behind, lay his family and everything familiar. His father did not even bother to bring him to the train station. He only grimly said goodbye and sent him off his way. His father wanted him to grow up, and would not spare any niceties on the boy. My young grandfather, then only 16 years old, was off to face the world by himself.

His name was Liu Keh Tsong, and he was the eldest of six siblings, four brothers and one sister. He had attended normal high school to become a teacher, the same school as Mao Tze Dong. Keh Tsong knew of him but they were not friends and their lives would follow almost opposite paths.

Keh Tsong's father was a scholar and county mayor, yet the family was far from rich. Meals consisted of only vegetables. Meat, such as chicken, was spared for Chinese New Year's. For extra money, Keh Tsong used to paint portraits, earning as much as a silver coin, worth 1000 dollars, enough to feed the family for a month. Two portraits of his parents, almost photo quality, still hang in my aunt's home.

At the time, China was far behind in science and engineering, so Chinese students interested in military skills were sent to Germany while students interested in engineering skills were sent to France. Keh Tsong's father saved up to send his oldest son to France. When the door slammed, he carried his lone suitcase and started a long trek from his home in Hunan. He rode the train to Shanghai, the gateway to Europe. From there he traveled to Hong Kong, then Singapore, India, and finally France, taking a total of two months.

When Keh Tsong first stepped on French soil, everything was new. He thought it was strange that they didn't even offer water, only wine. Even the baguettes were new and strange; instead of the familiar round and white rolls he was used to, the bread was pointy and brown. He enrolled in the University of Paris. Future Communist leaders Deng Tsia Ping and Prime Minister Zho Inna enrolled in nearby French universities. But, like Mao, my grandfather knew of them but took an opposite path.

He stayed in France for about eight years. He basically grew up there. Thoughts of home subsided. He only wrote home once a month. Keh Tsong worked and lived at school to pay all of his expenses. Later on, he worked at an automobile factory to make ends meet.

He used to chuckle about how French girls were after him, but he had no money to take them out. He was a very handsome man. Coming from the Hunan province, he almost looked Caucasian, if not half Caucasian. He certainly did not look very Chinese, and during World War II, even got beat up, after being mistaken as Japanese.

Keh Tsong father didn't want him to return to China just yet. He wanted Keh Tsong to be diligent in his studies, not have his head somewhere else. He had big aspirations for the boy, and even when Keh Tsong's mother died back in China, he did not tell Keh Tsong. He did not want him to return and interrupt his studies. So, Keh Tsong did not learn of his mother's death until many years after when he came back to China. Medical treatments were really bad then. Their food was not of good quality either and life expectancy was generally low. Keh Tsong's mother became really sick. The doctor had misdiagnosed her and given her the wrong medicine. She passed away at age forty. My grandfather used to sigh that he did not even know when his own mom passed away. He did not even have the chance to say good bye.

He loved his family fervently. Even before he reached France, Keh Tsong was ingrained with Confuscian thinking that enforced love of family and country. He was trained to love his country and his family with a passion. He read and bled of Nationalism, a form of democracy. Later, when the choice was between staying with his family in Communist China or fleeing to Taiwan with the government, he fled. As a dad, he read history stories every night to put his seven kids to bed, but when his fellow Nationalists came to visit, he made his sons sleep on the tables, and gave the officials their beds. In addition to being a fervent Nationalist, Keh Tsong adamantly hated the Japanese, so when he heard that they were invading China, he hurried back from France to save his country.

His father passed away only a year after Keh Tsong came back, so he regretted not being able to spend time with his father as well. He moved into an apartment in the city and met an attractive young woman in the building. Keh Tsong asked the landlord to introduce him to her. She became my grandmother shortly after.

Years later, this couple shook hands with another couple, with a different past, a couple whose family had been in Taiwan for generations.

"It's nice to finally meet you, Mr. Liu. I've heard a lot about you," said Mr. Ling.

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"Let's hear it for the Lings."

Taiwanese beer cans sloshed together. My cousin, then only 17 joined in. My grandmother objected, but my grandfather said, "It's the holidays, and besides, he's a man now, let him join us." My cousin smiled, one of his biggest goofiest smiles, and took a big swig.

My grandfather, my mother's father, surveyed the room. The Ling family was finally all together. My mother had left for America for graduate school and had met my father, a mainlander there. They had married in America, without both sets of parents. That winter, however, she returned to visit her family for a month.

My grandfather's family had been in Taiwan for four generations. In 1884, the first Ling, my great-great-great grandfather, Wen-Chen Ling, had traveled from the mainland to China in hopes of earning more money. He established a Chinese medicine store and actually became one of the few to be licensed to sell opium during the Opium War. He had three sons. The eldest son studied and passed the entry exams to become a scholar and city governor. The phoenixes stitched on his governor robe now hang on my grandfather's wall in his house.

In 1894 China and Japan went into war to battle for the control of Korea. In 1895 the Sino-Japanese Peace Treaty was signed. As a result, Ching seceded Taiwan and Penghu to Japan. When Taiwan residents heard the news, they all opposed to the secession and intended to fight it to the last. My great-grandfather's uncle, the first son of Wen-Chen Ling, was one of them. He sent all his family back to mainland Chain except one of his son to stay with him to prepare to fight Japan. But it was too late, the worry and angry swallowed him, causing him to grow sick and die at age 41. From them on Taiwan was under Japan's control for 50 years.

Wen-Chen Ling's third son took charge of the medicine shop. His sister never married and became a Buddhist nun. Her father carved a temple for her and she dedicated her life to it. She dedicated her life to take down the history of the family, so it would not get lost.

My great-grandfather took over the family business from there, but by then Japan had taken over Taiwan and they did not let free businesses run. The family business sort of dissolved by then. This Ling was my grandfather's father. He had high hopes for his eldest son. Although he was not strong in academics, he was strong athletically. He had earned a high black belt in judo and his father sent him to Japan to study the art further. Unfortunately, he was so good that in Japan, a group of men ganged up on him and killed him.

Yet, his little brother, my grandfather, never hated the Japanese. He took it as a solitary incident, unrepresentative of the whole race. He was trained in Japanese schools, in their customs and language. In fact, he spoke Japanese better than Chinese. His house was even of Japanese style and he slept on tatami several times.

This little brother was too scared to take up judo. His teachers would ask him, "How come you don't want to try judo, when your brother is so good at it?" He would only shake his head. My grandfather took up fencing instead. Ironically, later, his eldest son became very good at judo, and now, I, his oldest granddaughter, also take up the sport.

My grandfather actually enjoyed academics more. He loved research and was smart enough to enroll in the Taipei Di Guo Da Teu, now, Tai Da. He loved to learn so much that his professor took a special liking to him. This professor eventually introduced his little sister to my grandfather. She became my grandmother shortly after.

So, when I think back and listen to the music of my family's past, in French, Chinese, Japanese and Taiwanese, I am in awe of how many countries were involved in the culmination of me. All these ideologies had to come together to produce the next generation, a kind of mutt whose identity is clouded with three homelands--China, Taiwan, and America.