Gold Mountain Blues by Ling Zhang Page B

had grown a lot this year, Six Fingers was a skinny child with sticklike arms and legs, who looked as if a gust of wind would blow her over. After a good many pushes of encouragement, she finally bowed her head and whispered: “My two elder brothers are off to Gold Mountain. Come back soon and send us lots of money.”
    Those standing around her burst out laughing. “You’re letting that kid Ah-Fat off too lightly. He’s not your elder brother! He may be a big lad, but he’s still your nephew!” Overcome with shyness, Six Fingers fled into the house, refusing to come out again.
    The three men set off.
    The porter was heavily laden but he still set a good pace and left Ah-Fat and Red Hair far behind. The sun gradually rose high into the sky, the dew dried up and fine dust covered the road. Sharp-pointed lotus buds stuck up from the pond surface. At some point, the water wheel had stopped turning and the cicadas had not yet started chirping. Apart from the sound of their footsteps, all was quiet around them.
    â€œUncle Red Hair,” began Ah-Fat, “is there really gold everywhere in Gold Mountain?”

2
    Gold Mountain Perils

    Years five to seven of the reign of Guangxu (1879–1881)
    Province of British Columbia, Canada
    Yesterday afternoon, citizens of Victoria, gathered at the docks, enjoyed an extraordinary spectacle: the steamship Madeley put into port at approximately 3:15 p.m., with three hundred and seventy-eight people from the Empire of the Great Qing on board. The steamship had started her journey in Hong Kong, but because cases of smallpox were suspected, she was run aground in Honolulu for more than a month before finally making her way to Victoria. This is the biggest ever wave of Chinese to arrive on these shores. The provincial legislature has on several occasions proposed levying a head tax on Chinese workers and placing restrictions on the places which employ them, and yet an ever-increasing tide of Yellow labourers continues to pour in. The journey has lasted many months for these coolies (known as “piglets” in their language). In a ship which has been described as a floating hell, they have had to endure the torments of fetid air, appalling food and storms at sea, and appear anaemic, filthy and ragged to a man. There is not a single woman or child to be seen within their ranks. However, although they are uniformly male, they have very long pigtails, some hanging straight down their backs, others worn coiled up on their heads. They all carry a flat shoulder pole made of bamboo with a basket hung from each end, into which are packed all their bundles. They look apathetic, walk unsteadily and have none of the noble bearing of “celestials.” Indeed, their weird garb is in forceful contrast to their surroundings. Amongst the crowds who came to watch the goings on, there were some children who threw stones at them, but law enforcement officers quickly put a stop to that.
    Victoria Colonial News , 5 July 1879
    When Fong Tak Fat emerged from the hold, a dazzling whiteness met his eyes. He had never experienced sunshine like this, sharp as a newly ground knife and stabbing him right in the eyes. Even when he closed them, he could still feel the sun’s keen edge against his eyelids. He and Red Hair had both made do with steerage tickets on the steamship. Steerage was below the water line, and day and night had been the same for a very long time. Now the sun seemed like a bullying stranger to him.
    Ah-Fat guessed it must be summer by now. When he left home, the sun had still been soft and gentle—not nearly as powerful as the sun here. He was not sure how many days he’d spent at sea. Without an almanac, the only way he could mark the days was to make a scratch on his shoulder pole every night before going to sleep. As the ship came in to dock, he carefully counted the scratches. There were ninety-seven altogether. But it had actually been between