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SHANGHAI — In a high-rise apartment, near a street where Shanghai's young people shop for European fashions while chatting on cell phones, Zheng Jinlian summons memories of a time when an emperor still ruled China. Her
fine silver hair is neatly combed atop a face furrowed by 103 years of
life. Her tiny feet, tucked into custom-made shoes barely 3 inches long,
were bound up to stop them growing, as was the fashion, when she was 8
years old — in 1907. Her life spans a time of dizzying transformation in the world's most populous nation. And she is not alone. Ask
the gray-haired men and women you see in Shanghai or almost anywhere else,
strolling in alleys or playing Xiangqi (pronounced Shiang-chi — Chinese
chess) in a park. They can tell you of convulsive changes and social
turmoil almost unimaginable. History
has been cruel to some of the old ones, robbing them of wealth and status,
leaving them lucky just to be alive. For others, it's a tale of endurance
and pride, of struggle to rid China of gross inequalities and foreign
domination. Down
a narrow gray-brick alley and up a dark flight of stairs, Shao Zucheng,
75, a retired English teacher, welcomes guests with a broad smile and a
cup of steaming tea poured from a thermos. In fluent English, he
apologizes for the lack of sitting space in his room, a former servant's
quarters filled by a bed, wardrobe and desk with a coffee machine. Growing up in the 1930s, he lived in a mansion with 10 bedrooms and 40 servants. His great-grandfather was mayor of Shanghai. His father, Shao Xunmei, was a noted poet and owned the city's largest publishing house. "Ours
was one of the best-known families in old Shanghai," Mr. Shao said. "The beggars crowded as we pulled in front of department stores," he said. "They could see right away: We were Chinese, but we were different." All
that was swept away when the communists captured Shanghai in 1949 and
began political persecutions. English-speaking capitalists like the Shaos
topped the list. History
wasn't through with Mr. Shao. Mr. Shao was ordered to stand in a corner as the Red Guards tossed his possessions into the street — clothes, furniture, books, even mattresses. After the house was ransacked twice more, he was put to work digging air-raid shelters by teen-agers who called him "snake" and "devil." "We
never knew when they would come. We lived in terror every day," said
Mr. Shao. He praises the communists for doing more to improve the lives of average citizens than any other government in China's history. Everyone in Shanghai owns a microwave oven, air conditioner and television, he said. "Even the emperor didn't have a microwave," he laughed. "In the old days, none of us thought China could change this fast." But he also worries. He says Shanghai is reverting to its old self as the city's evolution into a global export center opens widening gaps between rich and poor. "In my day, even the wealthiest families only had one house, and maybe two cars," Mr. Shao said. "Now the rich have several homes and garages full of cars." Worse, lack of political freedom makes Chinese afraid to discuss such problems and possible solutions, unlike in the freewheeling old days, he said. If there's one thing Mr. Shao's experiences have taught him, it's how quickly good times can end and how fast chaos can return. Before 1949, "We were so naive," he said. "We Chinese had no idea of the suffering we were going to inflict on each other." A half-century ago, Ma Feihai risked everything to make China communist. Now, at 86, the former Red Army spy said he's all for capitalism. That
may seem like a contradiction too large for one lifetime, even by the
hectic standards of China's transformations. But Mr. Ma insists that he's
consistent. After all, he said, Marxism was always just a means to a
patriotic end — making China strong. "The
revolution was about freedom from foreign domination and creating a better
life for the Chinese people," said Mr. Ma, who rose to a high post in
Shanghai's Communist Party after the 1949 revolution. "I'd call the
revolution a success — absolutely." But
what angered him most was the lack of resistance by the man who then led
China, Generalissimo Chiang Kai-shek, head of the Kuomintang (Nationalist
Party). But
the math major had no idea how to become a communist. Threats of arrest
had driven the party deep underground. For the next 12 years, Mr. Ma worked as a spy in Shanghai, secretly radioing reports about the city's economy back to Mao's guerrilla headquarters. He also helped train recruits. Detection could have meant execution. Mr.
Ma's idealism did not yield a uniformly happy experience once the
communists won power. Like many Chinese, he saw his fortune swing widely
under communist rule. In the heady years after 1949, he rose through party
ranks, educating farmers and working for a time with military
intelligence. Now,
so many years later, Mr. Ma says the party has chosen the right path in
free-market reform. But prosperity has brought its own risks for China's
communists. Looking back over her 103 years, Zheng Jinlian doesn't hesitate to pronounce life in China today better than ever. Imperial China was miserable, she said — especially for women. She
is still bitter when recalling the landlord who owned her family's farm in
Zhejiang province, near Shanghai. Her parents had to bow before him, and
pay the rent even if it meant going without food. "My feet were so painful and numb," Mrs. Zheng said. "My mother said no man would marry me without bound feet. She thought it was a painful process that every woman had to go through, like giving birth." Mrs.
Zheng was sold at age 10 to become the wife of a neighbor's 12-year-old
son. During the day she had to work in her in-laws' wheat field. At night,
she cleaned and cooked. Once a year, she was allowed to spend an afternoon
with her parents. As warlords prowled the countryside after the abdication of China's last emperor, Pu-yi, in 1912, Mrs. Zheng and her husband fled to Shanghai to "eat foreign food" — that is, work as servants for wealthy Westerners. Mrs. Zheng donned a maid's white apron and worked in a succession of British, French, American and Russian households until World War II. Living among foreigners shielded her family from much of the chaos sweeping China. She remembers the elation she felt when she looked out her window one morning in May 1949 to see the streets filled with communist soldiers in combat fatigues and sandals. Residents shouted, "Shanghai is liberated! Liberated!" The communists quickly set up an employment center, training one of Mrs. Zheng's three sons to be a truck driver and finding her daughter work in a newly nationalized pen factory. "We knew a new era had come," said Mrs. Zheng. "Chairman Mao rescued the poor. I worked for foreigners all my life, but I never got anything in the end." She
says the last two decades of market reforms have given her
great-grandchildren opportunities she could never have imagined: One works
at a bank; another studies computers in high school. But she also worries
that communism's gains are being eroded. "The foreigners are back. They and the wealthy are profiting from Shanghai's development," she said. "I never imagined the poor would be in such big trouble again." Copyright
© 2002 Global Action on Aging |