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3 Into Free China as a Refugee: Life in Samkong and Kweilin O n 31 July 1942, my brother and I and Leslie Sung, a friend from the university, having joined a group of other refugees, left for China. We had a guide who at an agreed price was to meet us at the other side of the border and would take us, through an area known as 'no man's land', to the first outpost of the Chinese army. We were dressed in simple labourers' clothes and equipped with exit permits issued by the occupation forces. Actually we did not look much like common labourers, least ofall as both my brother and I carried a violin, but the Japanese soldiers at the checking points that we went through did not seem to care. We came to know later that the authorities in fact were by now anxious to get rid of some of the population, as food supplies had become increasingly difficult to acquire. Our group boarded a lorry with our belongings and headed for Shatoukok, on the north-east border ofthe New Territories. Here a fishing boat had been hired for us, and we set sail for the north shore of Mirs Bay, and for freedom. I remember how happy I was to see, I thought, the last of the Japanese soldiers, having lived under them for seven months. They had searched our luggage and had helped themselves to a pair of gun-boots which I brought, and a clinical thermometer, among other lesser things. Never had I felt so good about leaving anybody anywhere, but I was soon to be disappointed. There was a fairly strong wind blowing and our boat 22 A Lifetime in Academia was making some headway, but within an hour or so after we had started, a heavy storm broke, bringing heavy rain, thunder and strong winds. We were completely soaked through and the boatman had no choice but to turn back. As we drew up to the pier again, the sentries watched us with amusement. They searched one of the other boats, occupied by another group of refugees, and now discovered a large catch of watches which someone was trying to smuggle into China. We had no alternative but to spend the night at Shatoukok and put ourselves up in the only little inn available. We were put in a dark, filthy and bug-infested room upstairs, where we turned in for the night. Not long after midnight, there was a loud knock at the door, and sure enough a couple ofJapanese soldiers appeared. They had come to search our luggage again, as they obviously hoped to find more watches or valuable articles like those they found in the other boat. I had a feeling that this visit was quite 'unofficial', but in any case they were disappointed after a careful search and left at daybreak. Somehow they did not appear at all interested in our violins. There was no mishap the next morning and we managed to get to a little village on the opposite shore, where our guide met us. Heavy rain during the next two days prevented us from proceeding any further and we had to shelter ourselves in a farmhouse, eating simply in order to conserve our financial resources. When the weather cleared, we started our walking trip to Darnshui, where the Nationalist army was stationed. We crossed 'no-man's land', territory of the guerillas who were simply bandits before the war broke out not so long ago. They collected 'protection money' from us but let us through without molesting us. The walk to Darnshui took one whole day, but we were able to secure the services ofHakka woman porters to carry our luggage. I had two suitcases for the porter, but kept the violin for myself as I could not trust my porter to take good care of it. My porter, like the rest, was a big, husky amazon, wearing a large circular straw hat which until recently was still a familiar sight on building sites in Hong Kong. She lifted the suitcases one by one and exclaimed 'Hau jung aw!' ('how awfully heavy!'); then she started the bargaining process with me as to how much I should pay her. I gave her the benefit ofevery doubt, but after the price was agreed, the suitcases seemed to have become much lighter as she swung them effortlessly around over the ends of a pole, lifted them over...

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