The A-Going I Never Met, Amy Chantrapanichkul (11

The A-Gong I Never Met

Amy Chantrapanichkul, 11

At the age of eleven, I had lost my father in 1923, but I was determined to stay strong. I had no choice. I was on my way to my maternal grandmother’s home. After losing my father, it had been a difficult two years, but moving to the city from my farm village, Xie-Chun, was a decision I took part in making. A new start and maybe even a job. I was still unsure if I wanted to go to school, or find a job. My mother needed help with finances at home. I had three siblings and she chose to hold onto our land as tight as she could. It was her security blanket. I arrived in Hong Kong and headed to my new home. My grandmother greeted me with open arms, telling me just how much I looked like my older brother. He had stayed with them about a year ago. A couple weeks passed and one day my grandparents seemed to be stepping on glass around me all day. After asking them if anything was wrong, they finally talked. They suggested I change my name to my mother’s surname. Initially, I was taken aback. Then, I was insulted. My father’s name was part of me. It represented who I was. I would never disgrace my late father with such action and shame. I had decided on starting my own business. I figured the faster I start, the quicker I would make money. I was working from a young age, but it would all be worth it. I could help my mother feed my family. To me, that was enough of a reason.

By age nineteen, my business was in full swing. By the time I was thirty, I had a family and I was making more money than I even imagined. My mother was happy and I was glad for that. Her precious farm land was still intact and under her ownership. When famine hit my mother’s village, I even managed to send 10 kilogram bags of rice to my family each month. My mother used most of it to feed the village. Following the footsteps of my mother, I, myself, began to purchase my own plots of land. As my income flowed in, I bought more and more land. Little did I know, impending danger was coming for me. Communists were beginning to take over China. Those who owned large amounts of land, were their targets. I was a threat to their movement. I was unaware at the time. I was happy and rich, what more could I ask for? A couple months later, the news of my friends’ deaths reached me. They too, had owned an abundance of land. I was next. My friends warned me to flee as fast as I could. So I did. I left my home behind and didn’t look back. Leaving my seventeen nephews in charge of the land, I left with one destination in mind. Thailand. As I fled, I knew the amount of courage I had would determine if I lived to see tomorrow or not. I reached the canal and hesitated. Lined up against the other side of the canal were endless

amounts of guns. Guns next to guns, on top of more guns. The communist soldiers held no mercy in their blood.

Not allowing myself anymore time for the fears to override my mind, I jumped into the canal and swam with all my might. I swam until I could not feel my legs or arms anymore. I swam until my mind was blank. I swam until finally, I reached safe land. I looked behind me. In shock, I realized I survived death. I had arrived at the harbor that docked a plentiful of boats. Each one leading to a different destination. The next challenge was finding a boat that would take me to Thailand. My brother had moved to Thailand and back at one point, so it was my only logical choice. Asking around, I finally managed to sneak onto a boat and arrived in Thailand in a few weeks. Once I got there, I wandered around thinking about where I should head to. Fortunately, I ran into another fellow Chinese immigrant who was willing to take me in. We headed to his home. Next thing I know, the community around me was filled with Chinese immigrants. It was convenient, considering I had no knowledge of the Thai language. Several months later I still found myself succeeding at nothing. I had desired to start a new business here, but with what money? I had no connections here. A couple months later, my nephew wired me some money from China. But, by then, it was safer for me to return home, compared to the prior circumstances. I sent him back the money with plans of heading home. The following week, I was noticed by a neighbor. He did not look familiar to me, but somehow he knew who I was. I greeted him, and he explained that he recognized my family name from China. He asked what I was up to and I explained truthfully, that I had no plans for business in Thailand. “Why not? I can help you out,” he stated, “but you need connections and you don’t seem to have any. I know who can help with that.” There was this beautiful girl who had a formidable reputation in the Chinese community. She had been born and grew up in Thailand, but was Chinese through and through. No interest in dating, she worked alongside her mother her whole life. She had her own fill of hardship, having to work in a cigarette factory at the tender age of twelve and falling victim to the addictiveness of nicotine. Everyone knew her. She was who I needed to get word of my business around. Knowing that I had no chance of swaying Heng Lee, I visited her mother one day. I introduced myself and made sure to sound like the perfect fit for her daughter. After many days of pestering and swaying Heng Lee’s mother, she was convinced. However, she made it known that it was up to me to convince her in marrying me. After what seemed like forever, Heng Lee accepted my engagement ring. I was overjoyed. Except, I had a secret. I had a wife. It was not uncommon for men to have several wives, however, would Heng Lee agree? My wife lived in China and I had yet to bring her to Thailand. She was a smart one. She had